THE QUARREL.
Deerfoot was by no means free from misgivings when he limped from the
woods, and, crossing the narrow space that lined the stream, advanced to
the camp-fire around which the warriors were lounging.
Their appearance showed they were doughty fighters, and what Hay-uta had
told proved the same thing. But the Shawanoe had no fear that they would
rush upon and overwhelm him, and he had been in too many perilous
situations to hesitate before any duty.
The Indians turned their heads and surveyed him as he walked unevenly
forward, holding his bow in one hand, and making signs of comity with
the other. They showed no surprise, for such was not their custom; but
stoical and guarded as they were, Deerfoot could see they felt
considerable curiosity, and the fact that he carried a bow instead of a
gun must have struck them as singular, for he came from the East, where
the white men had their settlements, and such weapons were easily
obtained. These strange Indians had firearms, though beyond them in the
far West were thousands who had never seen a pale-face.
Deerfoot's friendly salutations were answered in the same spirit, and he
shook hands with each of the eleven warriors, who seemed accustomed to
the civilized fashion. He seated himself a short distance from the fire,
so as to form one of the dozen which encircled it. No food was offered
the visitor, but when one of the strangers handed him his long-stemmed
pipe, Deerfoot accepted and indulged in several whiffs from the red clay
bowl.
The two warriors whom Hay-uta had pointed out as members of the party
that had bought Otto Relstaub from the Sauks, were objects of much
interest to the youth. They could not have observed it, but he scanned
them closely, and when he sat down, managed to place himself between
them--one being on the right, and the other on the left.
Thus far, hosts and guest had spoken only by signs, but a surprise came
to Deerfoot when the warrior on his right addressed him in language
which he understood.
"My brother has journeyed far to visit the hunting grounds of his
brothers, the Pawnees."
The words of the warrior made known the fact that the party belonged to
the Pawnee tribe, but the amazing feature of his remark was that it was
made in Deerfoot's own tongue--the Shawanoe. The youth turned like a
flash the instant the first word fell upon his ear. He knew well enough
that no one around him belonged to that tribe, but well might he wonder
where this savage had gained his knowledge of the language of the
warlike people on the other side of the Mississippi.
"My brother speaks with the Shawanoe tongue," said Deerfoot, with no
effort to hide his astonishment.
"When Lone Bear was a child," said the other, as if willing to clear up
the mystery, "he was taken across the great river into the hunting
grounds of the Shawanoes; he went with a party of Pawnee hunters, but
the Shawanoes killed them and took young Lone Bear to their lodges."
"The Shawanoes are brave," remarked Deerfoot, his eyes kindling with
natural pride.
"Lone Bear staid many moons in the lodges of the Shawanoes, but one
night he rose from his sleep, slew the warrior and his squaw, and made
haste toward the great river; he swam across and hunted for many suns
till he found his people."
If this statement was fact, it told a striking story, but Deerfoot
doubted its truth. The reason was that, judging from the age of the
warrior, the exploit must have taken place when Deerfoot was very young,
if not before he was born. The capture of a Pawnee youth and his escape
in the manner named, formed an episode so interesting that it would have
been spoken of many times during the early boyhood of Deerfoot, who
ought to have heard of it, but he was sure that this was the first time
the story had fallen on his ears. Deerfoot's sagacity told him that Lone
Bear, as he called himself, was the only Pawnee who understood a word of
their conversation; that much was evident to the eye. It might be, too,
that there was a good deal of truth in the words of the warrior. At any
rate, it was easy to test him.
"Did Lone Bear dwell with Allomaug?"
"Allomaug was a brave chief; he was the father of my brother Deerfoot,
who is fleeter of foot than the wild buck."
That settled it. The reader will remember that Allomaug was the parent
of the youth, and that he was a noted sachem among the Shawanoes. Lone
Bear had told such a straight story that Deerfoot was convinced that he
must have dwelt at one time among his people.
All this was supplemented by the fact that Deerfoot himself was
recognized and addressed by the name he had received from the white
people. The young Shawanoe half expected the other to make some
reference to the youth's escape from Waughtauk and his revengeful
warriors, but Lone Bear had no knowledge of that episode, which took
place long after his flight from the tribe. Deerfoot was puzzled to know
by what means the warrior identified him, when he was certain he had
never seen Lone Bear until he surveyed him a short time before from the
tree-top.
Deerfoot noticed that during their conversation, the others seemed to
listen with as much interest as the American Indians ever allow
themselves to show, and Lone Bear, now and then, turned and addressed
them in their own tongue. When he did so, he spoke to the whole group
and every word was strange to Deerfoot. While the latter could
understand a number of dialects used by the tribes west as well as east
of the Mississippi, he knew nothing of that of the Pawnees.
"Why does Deerfoot wander so far from his hunting grounds?" asked Lone
Bear.
"Deerfoot has not wandered as far as the Pawnees," was the truthful
reply of the Shawanoe. "He once lived beyond the great river, but he
lives not there now."
The Pawnee looked as though he suspected Deerfoot was telling him
fiction, but he was too shrewd to express any such thought.
"Where are the companions of my brother?" was the pointed question of
Lone Bear.
"Deerfoot is alone and his companion is the Great Spirit."
The reader will observe that the reply of the Shawanoe partook of the
nature of a falsehood, inasmuch as it was accepted by Lone Bear (and
such was Deerfoot's purpose), as a declaration that he had traveled the
whole distance alone. Enough has been told to show the extreme
conscientiousness of the young Shawanoe, and no danger could lead him to
recoil from duty. He had imperiled himself many a time from that very
motive, but he believed it right to do his best to deceive Lone Bear. In
fact, his visit was of itself a piece of deception.
"Why does Deerfoot come to the camp of the Pawnees?" continued Lone
Bear, as though his guest was on the witness stand.
"Not many suns ago the Sauk warriors made captives of two pale-faced
youths; one of them has come back to his people, but the other has not.
He was a friend of Deerfoot; he went among the Sauks, but his friend was
not there; he was told that he had been bartered for wampum and blankets
and beads to the Pawnees. Can Lone Bear tell Deerfoot of his friend?"
This was coming to the point at once, but it was the wiser course.
Deerfoot saw that any other statement he might make would be doubted, as
most probably was the explanation itself. He looked into the face of
Lone Bear, so as to study his expression, while answering the question.
"The words of my brother sound strange to the ears of Lone Bear; he has
not seen his pale-faced friend."
"Has not _he_ seen him?" immediately asked Deerfoot, pointing to the
Pawnee on the other side.
Lone Bear exchanged words for two or three minutes with the latter, and
then replied to the visitor.
"Eagle-of-the-Rocks has not seen the pale-face friend of my brother; he
and Lone Bear have staid with their Pawnee brothers; they have met no
pale-faces in many moons."
Here was a direct contradiction of what Hay-uta had told. It might seem
that the Sauk had mistaken the identity of Lone Bear and
Eagle-of-the-Rocks, and had there been but one of them in question, it
was possible; but Deerfoot was satisfied that no such error had been
made. Hay-uta was positive respecting both, and he could not have
committed a double error.
Furthermore, the study of the Pawnee's face convinced Deerfoot that Lone
Bear was lying to him, though to ordinary eyes the expression of the
warrior's face was like that of stone.
Why this falsehood should have been used was beyond the power of the
Shawanoe to guess. The band was so far from the settlements that they
could feel no fear from white men. Nevertheless, Deerfoot was sure that,
had Lone Bear chosen, he could have told every thing necessary to know
about Otto Relstaub.
Two answers to the query presented themselves: the poor lad had either
been slain or he had been turned over to the custody of still another
party of Indians. As for escape, _that_ was out of the question.
The probability that the Pawnees had put Otto to death occurred to
Deerfoot more than once, and while seated on the ground, he had looked
for signs that might show what had been done. There were several scalps
dangling at the girdles of the warriors, but the hair of each was long,
black and wiry, showing that it had been torn from the crown of one of
their own race. The yellow tresses of the German lad would have been
noticed at once by Deerfoot.
The latter was angered by the course of Lone Bear, who had told an
untruth, without, so far as Deerfoot could see, any proper motive. So
sure was the youth on this point, that he did not hesitate to tell the
Indian his belief.
"My brother, Lone Bear, has spoken, but with a double tongue. He and
Eagle-of-the-Rocks have seen my pale-faced friend; they gave the beads
and wampum for him; Deerfoot knows it; Deerfoot has spoken."
Lone Bear, like all his race and the most of ours, was one of those who
looked upon the charge of falsehood (especially if true) as a deadly
insult. His dull, broad face seemed to crimson beneath its paint, and
turning partly toward the daring youth, he grasped the handle of his
knife.
"Dog of a Shawanoe! Who bade you come to the camp of the Pawnees? Do you
think we are squaws who are ill, that we will let a dog bark at our
heels without kicking him from our path?"
Lone Bear talked louder and faster with each word, until when the last
passed his lips, he was in a passion. He had faced clear round, so that
he glowered upon the youth. He now rose to his feet and Deerfoot, seeing
that trouble was at hand, did the same. As he came up, he took care to
limp painfully and to stand as though unable to bear any part of his
body's weight on the injured leg.
"Lone Bear is as brave as the fawn that runs to its mother, when it
hears the cry of the hound; he is in the camp of his friends and it
makes him brave; but if he stood alone before Deerfoot, then would his
heart tremble and he would ask Deerfoot to spare him!"
No more exasperating language could be framed than that which was
uttered by the young Shawanoe. He meant that it should fire Lone Bear
and he succeeded.