TWO PAWNEES ARE ASTONISHED.
Among all the chagrined Pawnees, there was none so humiliated as Lone
Bear, who had been thrown headlong by the trick of the young Shawanoe
dropping in front of him. That was bad enough, but it was made a
hundred-fold worse when Deerfoot stepped on the crown of his head before
he could rise, or prevent it. It was Red Wolf who cruelly remarked that
the reason for the youth taking that step was that he might have a _soft
place_ whereon to rest his moccasin.
Instead of replying to the chaffings of his two companions, Lone Bear
sat on a pile of fagots in the deserted camp, and smoked his pipe in
silence.
Red Wolf and the other Pawnee sat near, but neither lighted his pipe.
They had done all they cared to do in the way of tantalizing their
comrade, who had spent a part of his early boyhood among the Shawanoes
on the other side of the Mississippi. They saw he was in an ugly mood,
and would be likely to fight if provoked further. Though they did not
hold him in fear, they did not seek a quarrel. Besides, too, they saw
the serious side to the business: Deerfoot had already proved that he
was a remarkable warrior, for, amid the shooting and firing of guns,
which came from the forest beyond, there was heard no signal which told
that the daring youth had been shot or captured. The moment such a
result should take place, it would be made known by the exultation whoop
from the one fortunate enough to bring it about.
The question which presented itself to Red Wolf and his companion was,
whether it was probable the wonderful Deerfoot was alone. The Pawnees
were returning from a long excursion eastward, which had led them across
and into new hunting grounds, where their presence was sure to arouse
enmity whenever discovered. On that journey toward the Mississippi, the
Pawnees had come in collision with other parties of red men; guns had
been fired and one or two scalps taken, including one lost. In addition,
the invaders had destroyed much game, so that abundant ground for
complaint rested with the strangers. What more probable than that some
of those aggrieved tribes had determined on a retaliatory policy, by
sending a strong party to chastise the Pawnees?
Before Red Wolf could start a discussion on this question, the one at
his side became so interested in what was going on deeper in the woods
that he sprang to his feet and was off like a shot. This left Red Wolf
and Lone Bear alone, and the former felt much less disposition to pick a
quarrel than before.
"Are not the hunting grounds of the Shawanoes beyond the Great River?"
asked Red Wolf.
Lone Bear glared at him, as if doubting the sincerity of the question,
but, satisfied a moment later that the inquirer was in quest of truth,
he shook off his surliness and answered:
"Two suns' travel beyond the Great River lie the hunting grounds of the
Shawanoes and Wyandots."
"The Shawanoes are brave warriors?"
"Only the Pawnees excel them," was the reply of Lone Bear, who in those
words uttered the greatest compliment possible to the warlike tribe
which did more than any other to give Kentucky its baptismal name of the
Dark and Bloody Ground.
"Why is the Shawanoe whom you call Deerfoot journeying toward the
hunting grounds of the Pawnees?"
This was a pertinent question, which Lone Bear would have been glad to
have some one answer for him, but which, as might be expected, he sought
to solve without hesitation.
"He has come to look upon the woods and streams and prairies so favored
by the Great Spirit, where the bravest warriors, the Pawnees, are born,
and from which they drive all strangers."
Had Red Wolf chosen, he might have reminded the speaker of the bad taste
of this remark, when he had been so recently overthrown and disgraced by
one of the tribe which he placed lower in rank than his own; but Red
Wolf was disposed to take a more practical view of matters, and it was
natural he should go to the Pawnee who had once lived among the
Shawanoes.
"We saw only one Shawanoe, but there may be more hiding among the trees,
and waiting to fire at the Pawnees when they have their eyes closed in
slumber."
"Red Wolf has seen no Shawanoe!" exclaimed the other, wrathfully. "There
has been none here."
"Why does Lone Bear speak in riddles? What is the totem of the young
warrior called Deerfoot?"
"He _was_ a Shawanoe; his father was Allomaug the great chief; but
Deerfoot became a pale-face; he listened to the prating of the
missionaries, and turned away from the wigwams of his people; he has not
consorted with the Shawanoes for years; they would give a hundred scalps
if they could tear his from his crown. If the warriors of the Shawanoes
were in the woods," added Lone Bear, with a sweep of his right arm,
"Deerfoot would not be here, for he is a dog that runs when he hears the
call of his masters."
None could be more aware of the falsity of this than Lone Bear, who,
though he left the tribe before Deerfoot did, had heard of his exploits
since then, and knew him to be one of the bravest youths that ever
lived. And, again, he lost sight of his recent experience with him.
But when he reminded Red Wolf that the Shawanoe dwelt beyond the Great
River, whither the Pawnees had not penetrated, and that Deerfoot had
made known that his errand was to look for the captive pale-face, all
fear of his being in the company of a war party was removed.
However, no matter what explanation was given, it brought forward other
questions which could not be explained away. One of these was the
natural one, that, if the Pawnees had happened to have the German lad in
their custody, by what means did he hope to recover him? He brought with
him nothing in the shape of a ransom, so far as could be seen, and it
was hard to imagine what other method he expected to employ.
When Otto was bought of the Sauks, a pretty fair price was paid for him,
and it was not to be expected that his purchasers would discount that
compensation. The conclusion that the daring Shawanoe relied upon other
means, which were not apparent, gave a vague misgiving to Lone Bear and
Red Wolf, as they sat near the camp-fire talking over the stirring
incidents of the last half hour.
Now and then they ceased and listened to the sounds which came from the
forest, wherein the efforts were pushed to make prisoner the young
Shawanoe, who was dodging hither and thither as if running a gauntlet.
The temptation was strong to mingle in the general melee, as it may be
called, but the treatment Lone Bear had received at the hands of the
Shawanoe filled him with a fear that he had never known before, for
there was a tinge of superstition in it, as appeared in the next remark
he made.
"Deerfoot calls himself a Shawanoe; he was born with the people, but
when he left them he became an Evil Spirit."
This was Lone Bear's method of saying that the devil bore an active part
in the exploits of the youth, an opinion which was shared by Red Wolf.
"The Evil One is his friend: if he was not, he would have fallen by the
bullets that were aimed at him. Lone Bear would have slain the greatest
warrior, when he was running before him as Deerfoot ran, but he could
not slay Deerfoot, because the Evil One was his friend."
This was the kind of remark to please Lone Bear, for it implied that the
best possible reason existed for his failure; his enemy was of the
supernatural class, and, therefore, beyond the power of any human being
to overcome.
Lone Bear turned his head toward the woods, while he held his lips
closed over his pipe-stem. The sharp report of a rifle had reached their
ears, and the two Pawnees listened for a minute without moving or
speaking. Deerfoot just then was doing wonders in the way of dodging and
running, and the warriors sitting by the camp-fire could almost read the
narrative, as you have done from these printed pages.
Red Wolf leaned forward and lighted his pipe from the glowing coals, and
then seated himself a little closer than before to his companion. They
were at the end of the fire, as may be said, and so near each other that
when they talked and gesticulated their heads almost touched.
"They will not harm the Shawanoe," was the truthful remark of Lone Bear,
though in his heart he hoped they would bring his reeking scalp into
camp. "The Evil One runs at his side, and when the bullet is aimed by
the brave Pawnees, he catches it in his hand and holds it that it may
not harm the Shawanoe."
This was an ingenious explanation, for it helped to release the warrior
from a questionable situation. Red Wolf, who was sitting cross-legged,
like a tailor, sent an enormous puff of smoke over his shoulder, and
nodded several times with much vigor, to signify that he indorsed the
sentiments of his comrade.
"He can not be harmed until the Good Spirit shall drive the Evil One
away; then the bullet of Lone Bear and the tomahawk of Red Wolf and the
knives of the Pawnees shall reach him. He shall then die as dies the
rattlesnake coiled in our path."
At intervals the two ceased speaking, and, looking toward the wood,
listened, but an interval of silence followed. Both began to hope that
in spite of the armor they had thrown around the Shawanoe, he had been
brought down by some of the Pawnees, who were making such efforts to
destroy him.
It will be remembered that the wood from which Deerfoot had caught sight
of the Pawnee war party came down to the edge of the broad stream over
which he swam in order to reach them. On their side, the growth of the
forest ceased some rods away from the water, so that for a considerable
distance, a broad band of open land lined the river. In this cleared
space the camp-fire of the Pawnees was burning, and they were grouped
around it, with nearly as many warriors at varying distances in the
wilderness beyond. When they looked, it was toward the nearest trees,
from which they expected almost every moment to see some of their
comrades emerge, escorting the prisoner.
Red Wolf seemed to glow with anger, because the Shawanoe persisted in
keeping out of the hands of the Pawnees, who, it may be said, surrounded
him. Removing his long-stemmed pipe from between his teeth, he held it
poised in his left hand, while he gesticulated with his right.
"Who are the bravest warriors that hunt through the wilderness and over
the prairies?" he asked, launching out in that vain-glorious boasting,
so characteristic of his race: "who drove all other red men before them?
Whose war-whoop makes the pale-faces run to their cabins and hold their
doors closed? Whose shouts cause their enemies to tremble and call on
the Great Spirit to protect them? Who is it that sweeps--"
A splintering crash broke in upon this series of questions, and the bowl
of Red Wolf's pipe was shattered into a hundred fragments, the atoms
flying into the faces of the startled Pawnees, who, accustomed to
surprises, leaped to their feet and glanced right and left to learn the
cause of the astounding occurrence.
At that instant something like the flitting of a bird's wing twinkled in
front of their eyes, and the quick "chuck" which followed showed them an
Indian arrow with its head buried in the ground fifty feet beyond, and
the feathered point still a-tremble from the force with which it had
been driven from the bow.
Like a flash they looked toward the opposite point, and that which met
their gaze was perhaps the most alarming sight they had ever seen.
Scarcely a hundred feet away, on the edge of the wood, stood Deerfoot
the Shawanoe. He had already launched two arrows, and, when they caught
sight of him, he was standing with a third drawn to the head, and
apparently in the very act of letting fly at one of the terrified
warriors.
The American Indian as a rule is not powerful, and his muscular
development is moderate; but his life accustoms him to quickness of
movement, and he generally excels in running and leaping. Any one
looking upon Lone Bear and Red Wolf at that moment would have set them
down as the champions of their tribe. When they identified the archer
and saw that he was on the point of discharging another missile, they
made a break for shelter.
Red Wolf headed for the river, possibly because he didn't dare to lose
the time it would take to turn partly on his feet. He ran as if he meant
to make the effort to leap entirely across, or at least to outrun the
arrow which he believed was chasing him.
He hadn't far to go, and it didn't take him long to travel it. A bound,
a splash, and he vanished.
Lone Bear knew he was closer to the wood than to the water, and he was
equally determined to attain shelter. In his tremendous effort, he
seemed to think he could dodge the shafts that were whizzing through the
air in quick succession after him. He bent his head so that he was
crouching half way to the ground, and leaped from side to side, ducked
and dodged and contorted himself in an indescribable fashion. When he
bounded among the trees, he must have felt he had made the escape of his
life.
But the third arrow did not leave the bow. Deerfoot had not sought to
harm either of the Pawnees, but in obedience to that disposition to
humor which he sometimes displayed, he took pains to fire as close as he
could without hitting them. When he saw their dismay, he shook from head
to foot with silent laughter.
But his mirth was brief. A slight noise caused him to turn his head.
There stood two other Indians directly behind him, one with his gun
leveled directly at his heart.