AN INTERESTING QUESTION.
The faces of the Sauk and Jack Carleton lightened up, when Deerfoot
appeared, and warningly raised his finger for them to remain quiet. That
he did not mean they were in imminent peril was shown when he said, as
he took each hand in turn:
"Deerfoot is glad to look upon his brothers."
"And we needn't tell you how glad we are to see you, old fellow,"
responded Jack, modulating his voice to the same low key as that of the
Shawanoe; "you were gone so long that we began to think we would have to
hunt you up. Here, take these blamed things," he added, passing the bow
and quiver to their owner; "I never was so glad so get rid of any
thing."
The lad had shoved the hat of Otto Relstaub under his coat, where he
meant to keep it from the sight of the Shawanoe until after hearing his
story. The young warrior, convinced that no Indians were near, and that
it would require an hour and probably more for the Pawnees to trace the
little party, conversed freely.
The narrative, as may well be supposed, was one of transcendent interest
to Jack Carleton, for it was the first definite knowledge obtained of
his missing friend. The heart of the listener was filled with pitying
sorrow when he learned how Otto had been left to die alone in the
wilderness. Tears filled his eyes, his voice trembled, and he said:
"We know now that he was living a few days ago, but what hope is there
that he has lasted this long? I am afraid that the most we can do is to
give him burial--and we haven't the means to do even that very well."
The three seated themselves on the fallen tree near which the hat was
found, and talked as freely as though no hostile was within a hundred
leagues of them. The Sauk had little to say, a few words between him and
Deerfoot being sufficient. Then, as if to allow them to talk
unreservedly (though, of course, he could not understand any thing
said), he walked a short distance away. He was just far enough removed
to be visible to the two friends. His purpose was to mount guard while
they conversed, though there was little need, for Deerfoot could never
forget his vigilance.
When the touching story was ended, Jack looked at his friend and asked:
"Do you think he is dead?"
The young Shawanoe nodded his head.
"The Pawnees saw he was very ill; his face was like snow; he was weak;
they laid his gun beside him and covered him with leaves."
"Why didn't they take the gun? It was worth a good deal, and the Indians
hold such things in high value."
"When the Pawnees bury a warrior, they bury his weapons with him; they
were afraid to take the gun; they covered his face with his hat----"
"Are you sure of that?" broke in Jack.
"Such were the words of Lone Bear, who spoke with a single tongue."
"If they left Otto three days' journey away, with his hat lying on his
face, I should like to know how it comes to be _here_."
And Jack drew the article from under his coat, and handed it to
Deerfoot. The latter did not conceal his astonishment, for he identified
Otto's property at once. He asked his friend for the particulars, and
received them.
Deerfoot's theory was overturned by this discovery, and it was beyond
his power to explain the presence of the hat so far away from where the
owner had been abandoned. It would be supposed that the discovery would
throw discredit on the story told by Lone Bear, inasmuch as the two
seemed irreconcilable; but such was not the case. Deerfoot did not doubt
Lone Bear's words, and I make free to say just here, that subsequent
discoveries proved that the vanquished Pawnee had not deviated from the
truth in the first particular.
The active brain of the young Shawanoe grappled with the puzzling
problem, and he was still unable to solve it, when the faint report of a
gun was borne to the ears of himself and friends. It was so faint,
indeed, that Jack Carleton just caught the sound, but it was as distinct
to the warrior as if fired within a hundred yards.
I am aware that it sounds incredible when I state that the single report
of the rifle, far away in the wilderness, as it was softly borne through
the miles of intervening space, told the whole story to Deerfoot the
Shawanoe; it solved the mystery; it made clear that which was hidden; he
no longer saw through a glass darkly; the history of Otto Relstaub was
as plain as if it had fallen from his own lips.
I repeat that it will seem incredible to the reader that such a thing
could be true, but I shall soon make plain how it all came about.
The sound of the gun was from a point due south. Deerfoot having fixed
it clearly in his mind, said something in a low voice to the Sauk, who
had turned his head and was looking as if he expected some summons.
Then, rising to his feet, he addressed Jack:
"The night will soon come; we must make haste."
"Ain't you going to search the ground for Otto's trail?" asked Jack, who
had hoped that the powerful eyes of Deerfoot would reveal to him that
which was hidden from the Sauk.
"There is no trail here," replied the Shawanoe, glancing at the ground,
and walking away with a stride which seemed reckless, when it is
remembered that the Pawnees were not far off. In fact, the course of the
three took them close to the war party who were so clamorous for their
scalps; but the task of flanking a company of hostiles was not difficult
to Deerfoot. He let his friends know when the situation was delicate,
and each used the utmost circumspection; but the young leader deviated
so far to one side that he soon placed them in the rear.
Nearly half the day remained, and there was time to cover a great deal
of ground. Deerfoot did not break into that loping trot which he could
maintain from sunrise to sunset, but his strides were so long and rapid
that Jack was on the point more than once of being forced into a run.
The Shawanoe so shaped his course that he passed the tree near which he
had placed the rifle, tomahawk, and knife of Lone Bear. A glance showed
him they were still there, and he smiled in his shadowy way, but held
his peace. He did not tell his friends the story, knowing the
panic-stricken Pawnee would not reclaim his weapons until the hour
fixed--sunset.
Jack Carleton was well aware, from the manner of Deerfoot, that he was
carrying out some theory of his own, though the boy failed to connect it
with that far-away report of a rifle. He was far from suspecting the
surprising truth. Nothing would have pleased him more than to have had
the Shawanoe explain what line of policy he had adopted, but I have
shown long ago that Deerfoot was inclined to keep such matters to
himself until their truth or falsity was established. Jack knew better
than to seek to draw any thing from him, and, since he was equally
reserved toward Hay-uta, the young Kentuckian could not feel that he had
any ground for impatience.
As they advanced, the ground became broken and rocky. Traveling was
difficult--that is, to Jack Carleton--who bruised himself several times
in his efforts to hold his own. He was on the point of protesting, when
Deerfoot halted.
Hay-uta showed some signs of the severe strain to which he had been
subjected. His chest rose and sank faster than usual, and his dusky
countenance was slightly flushed. Jack's face was aglow; he breathed
hard and fast, and felt as though he would like to sit down and rest a
few hours. But Deerfoot was as unruffled as if he had walked only a mile
or two at a leisurely pace.
And yet a crisis was at hand. There was something in the eyes and face
of the Shawanoe which showed a consciousness that they were near the
end: within the following few hours it would come.
Deerfoot pointed to a ridge a short distance to the south. The top was
rocky and precipitous, and the trees and vegetation were so scarce that
the rugged baldness could be seen a long ways through the woods.
"The Sauk will hunt from _there to there_," said the Shawanoe,
indicating a spot a quarter of a mile to the south, and pointing by the
sweep of his arm to another almost opposite where they stood. "Deerfoot
will hunt from _there to there_," he added, marking out a similar,
though more extensive field, in the other direction.
"And what am _I_ to do?" asked Jack, half amused and just a little
provoked at what he knew was coming.
"My brother's legs are weary; they want rest; let him sit down and wait
till Deerfoot and Hay-uta come back to him."
"The same old dodge!" exclaimed the lad. "I would give a good deal if
some one would explain why in the mischief I was brought along with this
party anyhow."
"My brother is gentle-hearted; his voice is soft as that of the pappoose
when it laughs in its mother's eyes; his face is beautiful; the hearts
of Hay-uta and Deerfoot are sad, but when they look into the face of
their brother their hearts become light and they feel strong."
This was the most extensive joke in the way of a remark that Deerfoot
had ever been known to originate. Jack Carleton saw his slight smile and
the twinkle of his black eyes, and knew he was quizzing him. Assuming a
seriousness which deceived no one, the doughty Kentuckian deliberately
leaned his gun against the nearest tree, pretended to roll up his
sleeves, spat on his hands, rubbed them together and clenched them and
advanced threateningly upon the Shawanoe. The latter feigned alarm, and,
ducking his head, as if to dodge the threatened blow, ran away so
swiftly that before Jack could take more than half a dozen steps in
pursuit, he was out of sight.
Hay-uta could not be considered handsome, but the smile which lighted up
his features made them interesting, to say the least. When he grinned,
he did so to the extent of his ability, which was considerable in that
direction.
But the Sauk had been assigned to an important duty, and the Shawanoe
having departed, he did not linger. He waved a parting salute to Jack
Carleton, who, a few minutes later, found himself alone, much the same
as he had been left when Shawanoe and Sauk crossed the river to
reconnoiter the Pawnee camp.
"There's one thing certain," he said to himself, recalling the
parallelism, "whatever happens, I won't be caught as I was then; I'm not
going to climb a tree, and I mean to hold fast to my gun; but we have
come so far from the river that we must be a long ways from that party
of Pawnees, unless," he reflected, glancing to the rear, "they have
struck our trail and have followed hard after us."
The possibility of such danger was not great, but Jack Carleton changed
his position to one where he could keep a better lookout, with less
danger of discovery. He was sure his friends would not be absent a long
time, and he meant to avoid embarrassing their action.
"It was the sound of that gun which led Deerfoot to come all this way. I
wonder what it can mean."
Jack had got this far in his meditation, when he heard a footfall near
him, and, just as he turned his head, a familiar voice called out:
"_Helloa, Shack, ish dot you?_"