WITH THE RIVER BETWEEN.
The spot fixed upon by the Shawanoe was fully a third of a mile from the
camp-fire kindled by the strange Indian. It was in a hollow, through
which ran a small stream of water, and where the undergrowth and
vegetation were so dense that the flames which were started would not
have attracted notice five rods away.
You will remember that it was just such a place as was a favorite with
Deerfoot. It had attracted his notice during the day, while they were
pushing westward, and it was an easy matter for him to lead the others
back to it when the darkness among the trees was almost impenetrable.
Several facts, more or less pleasant, impressed Jack Carleton. One was
that their camp was so secure from discovery that all three could sleep
without misgiving. Their tramp through the wood had been conducted with
such stealth that it was impossible for any one to have seen them, and
of course it was beyond the power of an enemy to trail them except by
the aid of daylight.
A fact less pleasant, was the absence of provisions. It was a goodly
number of hours since they had eaten, and the Kentuckian possessed an
appetite such as young gentlemen of his age, who spend much of their
time out doors, invariably own. It must not be supposed that either the
Sauk or Shawanoe were deficient in that respect, but they were used to
privation, and seemed to feel no discomfort. Jack Carleton was sure that
Deerfoot often went without food when he could have secured it, for no
other purpose than that of retaining mastery over himself.
"I suppose it is a good way," muttered the discontented youth,
stretching himself out for the night, "but it don't agree with my
constitution. They needn't think they're going to make me whine," he
added, with grim resolution. "I'll starve before I'll ask _them_ for any
thing to eat."
He became interested in his companions, however, and, as is the rule,
when the usual hour for eating passed his hunger grew less.
Deerfoot leaned his long bow against the trunk of the nearest tree, his
quiver lying at the base, and assumed an indolent attitude, his face
toward the fire. The upper part of his body was supported on his left
elbow, which held his Bible so that the firelight fell upon the printed
page. The print was small, the light bad, and it came from the wrong
direction, but the strong vision of the young Shawanoe read it as easily
as if under the glare of the noonday sun.
Half way to the opposite side of the fire was stretched the Sauk, his
posture precisely the same as that of Deerfoot, except that he rested on
his right elbow. Their feet, therefore, were turned toward each other.
His eyes were fixed on the face of the Shawanoe, who was reading the
marvelous volume, and shaping its words into the tongue which Hay-uta
could understand. Eliot, the Indian apostle, translated the whole Bible,
and his work was one of the most striking ever done by man, but he put
into the American tongue those truths into which he had been trained and
with which he had been familiar for years--the character of the labor
was immeasurably changed when the interpretation was made by an Indian
to one of his own race.
Deerfoot, as he had done before, would read a verse or two in a low tone
to himself, and then, looking across to his companion, explain as best
he could their meaning. Now and then Hay-uta asked something, and
occasionally Deerfoot faintly smiled as he answered.
The Kentuckian watched the Shawanoe with as much interest as did the
Sauk, and, though his emotions were different, his wonder and admiration
were fully as great.
"He is the most remarkable Indian that ever lived," was the thought
which stirred the heart of Jack Carleton, as it had done many a time
before; "Hay-uta is in the prime of life, larger, stronger, and he has
always been a fighter; he did his best to kill Deerfoot, but he was
vanquished as though he was only a child. A short time ago they were
striking at each other like a couple of wild cats, and now they are
talking about the One who taught men to forgive their enemies; they
would die for each other. It's no use," added Jack, shutting his lips
tight and shaking his head, as was his habit, when doubt was removed,
"there is something in that religion which can tame a little fury like
Deerfoot was, and make savages as gentle as lambs."
By and by the senses of the youth began to dull, and drowsiness crept
over him. The last recollection was the figures of the two Indians
stretched out in front of the camp-fire, one reading and the other
listening with rapt attention. The hum and murmur of voices was in his
ears when slumber gently closed his eyelids.
His awaking was pleasant. The sun was above the horizon, the sky was
clear and the air was balmy. The warm season was at hand, but it had not
fully set in, and, under the shade of the towering trees, the coolness
was delightful. Birds were singing and the brightness and cheerfulness
which pervaded nature every where was like that which makes us fling our
hats in air and shout for joy.
Jack appreciated all this, but there was something else which filled his
being with more eager delight. The air was laden with the odor of
broiling fish, and if there is any thing more fragrant to the senses of
a hungry person, I have never been able to learn what it is.
Leaving the sleeper where he lay on his blanket by the fire, Hay-uta and
Deerfoot had stolen out to the river, from which it required but a few
minutes to coax a number of toothsome fish. These were cleaned, spitted,
and broiled over the coals raked from the camp-fire.
The Shawanoe had traveled with the Kentuckian long enough to gauge his
appetite accurately, and thus it came about that when Jack Carleton
ceased eating, he had all that he wished, and in reply to the question
of Deerfoot, said he was ready to go through the day without any thing
more.
"Deerfoot," said the youth, placing his hand on his shoulder, and
looking him earnestly in the eye, "where is Otto Relstaub?"
The Shawanoe gave him a reproving glance, as he answered:
"Deerfoot does not know; the Great Spirit has not told him."
"I understand well enough that none knows or can know where the poor
fellow is, nor whether he is alive or dead; but you have done a good
deal of hunting, and, though you found out nothing yesterday, yet you
have formed some theory; what I want to know, therefore, is your
belief."
Deerfoot began examining his bow, as if to assure himself it was ready
for some use which he seemed to think was close at hand. He gave no
answer to the question, and acted as though he had not heard it.
Determined that he should not have such an excuse, Jack repeated his
inquiry with more directness than before.
The young Shawanoe could not ignore him. Pausing a moment in his
inspection of his weapon, he looked gravely at his young friend and
shook his head. Whether he meant to imply that he knew nothing, had no
theory, or believed that Otto was beyond the reach of help, was left to
Jack himself to decide. The action of Deerfoot, however, proved that he
had not yet despaired of the missing youth; for, without any hesitancy,
he announced that they would make their way to the river again, and
crossing over, continue their search on the other shore.
"There's some comfort in _that_," was the conclusion of Jack; "so long
as he believes a chance remains, so long shall I not despair."
The fact that Deerfoot meant to take his friend with him, looked as
though he had decided to push the search a long ways beyond the river.
Jack succeeded at last in drawing from him his belief that Otto was not
in the custody of the party with whom they had had the difficulty the
day previous. That, however, was not an important admission, for the
young Kentuckian had come to the same belief long before, and it did not
help clear up the mystery as to the whereabouts of the missing boy.
Deerfoot went somewhat further, and expressed the hope, rather than the
belief, that Otto was alive. When Jack asked him whether it was not
likely he had been transferred to the custody of other parties, the
Shawanoe again shook his head, as he did when the same thing was said
before.
There could be no doubt that he had a theory of his own which he did not
make known even to Hay-uta. Jack could not extract the least hint, nor
could he guess what it was, (and I can not forbear saying, just here,
that, though the Shawanoe was far from knowing the whole truth, he
suspected a part of it, as will appear all in due time).
The spot where the three had encamped was about a furlong from the
river, and to the latter all three made their way without special care
or haste. Jack Carleton felt complimented that Deerfoot meant he should
bear them company in the renewal of the effort to find Otto Relstaub.
But a disappointment was at hand. When they reached the stream, Deerfoot
would not cross until after a careful reconnoissance. He had approached
the river at a point above where the Pawnees held camp the evening
before. He meant that if the passage was effected, it should be without
risk of discovery from their enemies.
It must be admitted that the situation was a peculiar one in more than
one respect. First of all, there was no reason to believe the Pawnees
were aware that the two strange Indians who created such a turmoil had
recrossed the river, nor was it known that the hostiles themselves were
in the neighborhood. Besides, the warrior who made Jack prisoner the
evening previous was playing a singular part in the proceedings. There
was no telling where he was at that moment, nor when he would turn up
again. Added to this, was the absolute ignorance about Otto Relstaub. If
they could have gained some inkling of the disposition made of him (for
there could be no doubt that the warriors identified by the Sauk knew
all about it), the hunt could be forced to a conclusion, one way or the
other, within a few hours.
Directing Hay-uta and Jack Carleton to remain for the present where they
were, the Shawanoe said he would swim over and examine the vicinity,
before allowing his friends to join him in the final search for the lad.
This was such a radical change of purpose that Jack was impatient. He
did not hesitate to ask for an explanation; but he quickly learned that
impatience, anger or dictation availed nothing with the young Shawanoe.
He was afraid of no one, and if he chose to keep his thoughts to
himself, it mattered naught whether it gave pleasure or offense to
others.
Before attempting the passage, Deerfoot ranged up and down the stream
for a considerable distance, scrutinizing the belt of open land on the
other shore, and the woods beyond. Not a vestige of the Pawnees was to
be seen. Then he climbed a tree, and from the top looked off over the
country for a space of many miles. He hoped to detect the faint stains
left in the atmosphere by the camp-fire of the hostiles, but he was
disappointed in that also. Had he not learned the contrary the previous
night, he could have believed that he was the first human being whose
feet had ever pressed that solitude.
The Shawanoe was too subtle a woodman to forget any point of the
compass. It was not impossible that the Pawnees, angered by the
indignities and the disappointments they had suffered at the hands of
the young warrior and his companions, had tried to flank them. They were
not all cowards, and though some of them looked upon the phenomenal
youth as an evil spirit, there were others who must have known him as he
was, and who were eager for the chance to bring him low by means of
their rifles.