SHAWANOE VS. PAWNEE.
Why it was Deerfoot sought a quarrel with the Pawnee can not be made
fully clear. I incline to believe that his quick penetration detected
signs among the warriors that they did not mean to let him withdraw,
when he should seek to do so, and his plan was to use the quarrel as a
shield to thwart their purpose. This may seem a strained explanation but
let us see how it worked.
It is not impossible that the wonderful young warrior brought about the
disturbance in what may be called pure wantonness; that is, his
confidence in his own prowess led him to invite a contest, which
scarcely any other person would dare seek.
His last words were the spark to the magazine. The knife griped by Lone
Bear was snatched from his girdle, and he sprang forward, striking with
lightning-like viciousness at the chest of the Shawanoe, who avoided him
with half an effort.
In dodging the blow, the youth moved backward and to one side, so as to
bring all the warriors in front, and to leave open his line of retreat.
He had been as quick as Lone Bear to draw his weapon, but he did not
counter the blow--that is to an effective extent. He struck his
antagonist in the face, but only with the handle of the weapon. Perhaps
a pugilist would have said that the younger "heeled" the other.
The stroke was a smart one, and delivered as it was on the nose,
intensified, by its indignity, the fury of Lone Bear. He lost all
self-control, as Deerfoot meant he should do.
This flurry, as may be supposed, centred the interest of the others upon
the two. The quarrel started as suddenly as it sometimes does among a
group of fowl, and, before it was understood, the combatants, with drawn
knives were facing each other. Few sights are more entertaining to men
than that of a fight. The Pawnees in an instant were on their feet, with
eyes fixed on the scene.
It must be believed that every one of the eleven Pawnees was sure it was
out of Deerfoot's power to elude the vengeance of Lone Bear. The only
fear of the ten was that he would dispatch the youth so quickly that
much of their enjoyment would be lost. When they saw him strike Lone
Bear in the face, a general shout of derision went up at the elder
antagonist, for permitting such an outrage. This did not add to the good
temper of Lone Bear, who compressed his lips, while his eyes seemed to
shoot lightning, as he bounded at Deerfoot, intending to crush him to
the earth and to stamp life from him.
But even though the youth seemed to be lame, he leaped backward and
again escaped him. Lone Bear dashed forward, to force him down, but
Deerfoot kept limping away just fast enough to continue beyond the reach
of his enemy.
"Lone Bear runs like the fowl that has but one leg," was the odd remark
of Deerfoot, who pointed the finger of his left hand at the other's face
by way of tantalizing him.
But the fierce Pawnee was now pursuing so swiftly that Deerfoot had to
whirl about and run with his face from him. He still limped, though had
any one studied his gait, the trick would have been detected; but the
sight of Lone Bear chasing a lame youth and failing to overtake him, did
not calm his rage.
The warrior, however, was fleet, and marvellous as was the speed of the
young Shawanoe, he was compelled to put forth considerable exertion to
keep beyond his reach. His course took him quite close to the edge of
the wood, along which he ran, so that, should it become necessary, he
could leap among the trees. He watched his pursuer over his shoulder, to
prevent his coming too close. His plan was to keep just beyond his reach
and tempt him to the utmost effort.
Faster and faster went the fugitive, while the pursuer desperately put
forth every effort, maddened beyond expression that the outstretched
hand failed only by a few inches to grasp the flying Deerfoot. The
spectators were amused to the last degree. Expecting quite a chase, they
ran forward, as persons along shore follow a boat race, so as not to
lose a phase of the struggle.
In the depths of his wrath, Lone Bear regained something of his
self-command, and called to mind the stories he had heard of the
fleetness of the young Shawanoe. That, with the fact that there was no
longer the least halt in his gait, told the disadvantage in which the
pursuer was placed.
If he could not reach the Shawanoe with his knife, he could with his
tomahawk or his rifle. Hastily thrusting back the knife, he whipped out
his tomahawk and raising it over his shoulder, hurled it with might and
main at the crown surmounted by the stained eagle feathers and streaming
black hair. At that moment, pursuer and fugitive were scarcely ten feet
apart.
But Deerfoot knew what was coming, and the instant the missile left the
hand of Lone Bear, he dropped flat on his side, as if smitten by a
thunderbolt. The shouting Pawnees, who were some distance behind,
supposed his skull had been cloven by the fiercely-driven tomahawk, but
it was not so.
Lone Bear did not see the trick of Deerfoot in time to escape its
purpose. The fall was so sudden, that before he could check himself, his
moccasin struck the prostrate figure, and he sprawled headlong over him,
heels in the air, and with a momentum almost violent enough to cause him
to overtake the tomahawk that had sped end over end several rods in
advance.
Before the Pawnee could rise, Deerfoot bounded up, sprang forward, and,
placing one foot on the head of Lone Bear, leaped high in the air and
spun around so as to face the party. Brandishing his bow aloft, he
emitted a shout of defiance and called out:
"Why do not the Pawnees run? Is none of their warriors fleet enough to
seize Deerfoot when he is lame?"
The only one of the company who could understand these questions was the
slightly stunned Lone Bear, who just then was climbing to his feet; but
the gestures and manner of the fugitive told the meaning of the
performance.
The young Shawanoe stood still on the edge of the wood, as if to show
his contempt for the Pawnees, who before Lone Bear could recover from
his discomfiture, sped forward in pursuit. One of them emitted several
whoops, which Deerfoot half suspected were meant as a signal, though of
course he could not be sure of their meaning.
It seemed like tempting fate to stand motionless, when only a few
seconds were required to bring his enemies to the spot, but Deerfoot
waited till Lone Bear was erect again, when he called to him,
"The heart of Deerfoot is sad because Lone Bear can not run without
falling; let him go to the lodges of the Pawnees and ask the squaws to
teach him how to run."
Lone Bear made no reply, for it is safe to say he could not "do justice
to his feelings". Few Indian tongues contain words that answer for
expletives, which in one sense was fortunate and in another unfortunate
for Lone Bear.
When several of the pursuers brought their guns to their shoulders,
Deerfoot shot like an arrow among the trees and vanished. It was time to
do so, for his enemies were close upon him.
Though the Pawnees had learned of the swiftness of the young Shawanoe,
they had no thought of abandoning the attempt to capture him. The flying
tresses would make the most tempting of scalps to dangle from the
ridge-pole of the wigwam, and because he could outrun all their warriors
was no proof that he could not be overcome by strategy.
When the fugitive disappeared, the same signal of which I have spoken
was repeated, and the Pawnees scattered--that is to say they plunged
into the wood at different points: they did not try to overhaul him by
direct pursuit.
Two of the Indians declined to join in the chase, but walked toward Lone
Bear, who having assumed the perpendicular again, was looking around, as
if uncertain of the best course to pursue.
The American Indian, as a rule, is melancholy and doesn't enjoy innocent
fun as much as he ought, but, as I have shown, there are few or none in
which the element of humor is altogether wanting. The two of whom I am
just now speaking, shook with laughter, as they saw Lone Bear sprawl
over Deerfoot, his heels flying in air, and their mirth became so great
when the young Shawanoe used his crown as a stepping stone, that they
paused from weakness.
Lone Bear knew nothing of this, and when he saw them approaching, their
faces were as long and grave as if on the way to attend the funeral of
their dearest friend. Perhaps he expected to receive a little sympathy,
but he must have felt some misgiving.
"Lone Bear runs like the wild buck," was the remark of one of the
warriors, though the observation itself did not amount to much, nor
could the one to whom it was addressed see why it should be made at all.
He, therefore, remained silent, feeling as though he would like to rub
some of the bruised portions of his body, but too dignified to do so.
"If the wolf or buffalo crosses the path of Lone Bear, he does not turn
aside."
"No; he runs over him."
"Even though he be a warrior, Lone Bear goes over him, as though he were
not there."
The party of the third part began to see the drift of these comments,
and he glared as though debating which one to slay first.
"Lone Bear has a kind heart; it is like that of the squaw that presses
her pappoose to her heart."
"He is kinder than the squaw, for he lies still and lets the Shawanoe
rest his weary foot on his head."
Lone Bear glowered from one to the other, as they spoke in turn, and
kept his hand on his knife at his girdle, as if to warn them they were
going too far. They seemed to hold him in little fear, however, and
continued their mock sympathy. One walked to where the tomahawk had lain
untouched since it left the hand of the Pawnee, and, picking it up,
examined it with much care.
"There is no blood on it," he remarked, as if talking to himself, but
making sure he spoke loud enough for the other to hear; "we were
mistaken when we thought it went through the body of the Shawanoe; the
hand of Lone Bear trembles like that of an old man, and he can not drive
his tomahawk into the tree which he reaches with his hand."
The black eyes of the Pawnees sparkled, and they seemed on the point
several times of breaking into laughter, but managed to restrain
themselves.
Still resting his hand on his knife, Lone Bear directed his first remark
to the last speaker.
"Let Red Wolf keep his tongue; he talks like the pappoose."
Red Wolf, however, did not seem to be alarmed. He glanced into the face
of his companion and added:
"Though Red Wolf talks like the pappoose, his heart is not so faint that
he lies on the ground, that his enemy may have a _soft place_ where he
may rest his moccasin."
This, beyond question, was a severe remark, and, as the two broke again
into laughter, Lone Bear was almost as angry as when he took a header
over the body of the Shawanoe; but the warriors were as brave as he;
without reply, he turned sullenly away, and walked toward the camp fire
which he had left a short time before.