THE PRAYER OF HAY-UTA IS THE PRAYER OF DEERFOOT.
Deerfoot knew the extent of the mishap the instant it took place. There
was no means at command for repairing it, but, in the hope of arousing
Hay-uta and disconcerting the aim of the Pawnee, he bounded from the
tree, giving utterance to the most terrific shout of which he was
capable, and dashed toward the traitor. He had flung aside his useless
bow and held his tomahawk in his left hand.
He failed in both his intentions, though possibly he might have
succeeded had a few seconds more been at his service. The frightful cry
did arouse the Sauk, but it hardly passed the lips of the Shawanoe when
the gun of their enemy was fired, and Hay-uta, leaping half-way to his
feet, fell back mortally wounded.
The Pawnee saw the raging Shawanoe rushing toward him like a flaming
meteor. Knowing what it meant he dropped his gun and grasped his
tomahawk, ready to fight the man who threatened his life only a short
time before. The weapon was drawn but half way from his girdle, when,
without checking his speed, Deerfoot sent his hatchet as though fired
from the mouth of a cannon. The Pawnee could not have seen it coming
when his skull was cloven in twain, and, with a half-suppressed shriek,
he went to the earth, every spark of life driven from his body.
Deerfoot stood for a moment, panting and glaring at the miscreant whom
he had brought low. Then without speaking or seeking to recover his
tomahawk, he turned and walked toward the Sauk, knowing it was too late
to help him.
A long time before when the rifle on which the young warrior relied
flashed in the pan, he flung the weapon into the Ohio, and returned to
his loved bow and arrow; but the failure in the former case could not be
compared with that of the present; the bow had given out in the most
disastrous manner that can be imagined.
Deerfoot never shrank from any duty, no matter how trying to his
feelings. He supposed that Hay-uta was dead, but when he looked at him,
he saw that he was sitting as before with his back against the rock, his
arms folded, while he was gazing at the western sky as if lost in
pleasant meditation; but the deathly pallor visible through his paint,
showed he had but a short time to live.
Deerfoot hastened his steps, and Hay-uta turned his eyes with a smile
and feebly extended his hand. The Shawanoe eagerly took it and kneeled
on one knee.
"Why does my brother the brave Hay-uta smile?" he asked, in a voice as
low as that of a mother.
"Hay-uta was looking at the clouds in the sky and he saw the face of the
Great Spirit that Deerfoot told him about."
"Was the Great Spirit pleased?"
"He smiled and showed he loved Hay-uta,--who sees him again," added the
dying warrior, turning his gaze toward the billowy clouds, tinted with
gold in the rays of the declining sun. "He smiles and is waiting for
me."
A divine joy suffused the heart of the Shawanoe, when he not only heard
these words, but noted the expression which illuminated the countenance
of the Sauk, who had but a few more minutes to live.
And while stirred by such emotions, there were other matters which
Deerfoot could not forget. True, he had slain the only Pawnee near, but
he could not feel sure that all danger from that source was gone. Others
might be drawn to the spot, within a brief period, and he cast a
searching glance on his surroundings, to make certain he was not taken
unawares. Had a half dozen hostiles burst upon the scene, the Shawanoe
would not have deserted Hay-uta, so long as breath remained in his body.
There was hope for a moment on the part of Deerfoot that his friend
might not be mortally hurt, but such hope vanished almost as soon as it
came. The wound was in the breast; it bled slightly, but the eye of the
Shawanoe (aside from the appearance of the Sauk), showed the poor fellow
was beyond the power of human help.
"The heart of Deerfoot is glad," said the Shawanoe, still resting on one
knee, and holding the hand of Hay-uta, while he looked kindly into his
face. "Deerfoot had drawn his bow, and would have driven his arrow
through the heart of the dog of a Pawnee, but the bow broke and the
arrow fell at the feet of Deerfoot."
This statement seemed to recall Hay-uta to his situation; he compressed
his thin lips, as if forcing back a moan, and his free hand groped at
his side in feeble quest of something. Before Deerfoot could divine his
purpose, he grasped his handsome gun, leaning against the rock, and made
as if to pass it to Deerfoot. The latter was obliged to help him, and
resting the stock on the ground, he leaned the muzzle toward the other,
and awaited his words.
"Had that been in the hand of Deerfoot, then Hay-uta had not died."
"My brother speaks with a single tongue, as he always did," replied the
Shawanoe, in a sad voice; "the bow is broken."
"Let my brother use it no more; let him take the rifle which he now
grasps."
"It shall be done as my brother wishes."
"The heart of Hay-uta rejoices; let my brother take the powder-horn and
bullet-pouch of Hay-uta."
With great gentleness, Deerfoot slipped the string of the Sauk's
powder-horn over his neck, unfastened the bullet-pouch, and placed them
and the proffered tomahawk about his own person. Before doing so, he
detached his quiver and flung it from him. The Sauk watched his actions
with more interest than would be supposed, and his pale face showed that
he was pleased with the change.
"My brother was given skill with the bow, but his skill is as great with
the gun, and it will not fail him when he points it at the deer or at
his enemy."
"It is the Great Spirit who guides the arrow and bullet," was the
response of the Shawanoe. "Deerfoot will use the bow no more; he will
keep the rifle and tomahawk his brother Hay-uta gave him. He will think
of Hay-uta and the gun will be better in the hands than the bow."
"Then Deerfoot will be greater than any hunter in the west," was the
remark of his friend, and that he was a true prophet will be shown by
the incidents in which the Shawanoe was soon called to take part.
The young warrior had no wish to hear the deserved compliments at such a
time, for he saw that only a few more words could fall from the lips of
the Sauk. Still holding the hand tenderly in his own, he asked in a
gentler voice:
"Does my brother see the face of the Great Spirit now?"
The eyes that were growing dull, brightened again, and were fixed on the
tinted horizon as though he saw the countenance of his Heavenly Father
(and who dare say he did not?), with as much distinctness as he
discerned that of the Shawanoe kneeling before him.
"I see Him. He stands now with His side toward me; one foot is forward,
and He is leaning over as if He is about to take a step. He reaches His
hand toward me; He is only waiting till I place my hand in His." Then,
fixing with an effort his gaze on the Shawanoe, Hay-uta, whose mind
began to wander, said:
"The Great Spirit looks toward Deerfoot; He waits to hear him speak."
The Sauk became silent, and Deerfoot prayed for a few minutes with the
touching faith of childhood. When he was nearly done, he unconsciously
dropped into his own tongue.
"The prayer of Deerfoot to the Great Spirit is that He will take the
hand of Hay-uta, which reaches upward to Him and lead him into the
hunting grounds, beyond the clouds and sun and stars. The prayer of
Hay-uta is the prayer of Deerfoot."
Having finished, the Shawanoe ceased and looked into the face of the
Sauk, awaiting what further request he might make. The calm, triumphant
expression which lit up the features, led him to expect a movement of
the lips, but it needed only a second glance to discover that Hay-uta
the Sauk was dead.
Deerfoot looked closely at him, and then, rising to his feet, scanned
the surrounding solitude. While Hay-uta had seated himself where he
gained an unobstructed view of the sky, he was not at the top of the
ridge, nor was he liable to be discovered by any enemies at a distance.
It was a fatal mischance which brought the treacherous Pawnee that way.
From where Deerfoot stood, he could see the feet and leggings of the
fallen Pawnee, who lay flat on his back as though looking at the sky;
but no living person was in sight.
The Shawanoe waited a brief while, debating with himself as to his duty
toward his dead friend. While he was without the means of burying him,
he could place the body in some less conspicuous position, yet he took a
different course.
Before the limbs of the dead warrior were given time to stiffen,
Deerfoot adjusted them as they were when he first discovered him sunk in
meditation. The body was made to sit erect, the back supported by the
rock behind it; the feet were extended in a natural position, and the
arms folded across the massive chest. The partly-open eyes seemed still
to rest on the western horizon, behind which the sun had set. Though
Indian superstition would have caused the body to face the other way, to
greet the rising sun, Deerfoot had no wish to change the posture; for
Hay-uta died not as dies the heathen, but as passes away the Christian.
[Illustration: THE DEATH OF HAY-UTA.]
It would have been hard for any one venturing from the woods, and
catching sight of the body for the first time, to believe the spark of
life had fled.
The Shawanoe viewed the striking figure, and felt that he had done the
most fitting thing. Looking up at the darkened sky he asked the Great
Spirit to protect the body from molestation by wild man or beast, and
then, with a faint sigh, he turned away, and passing over the ridge,
hastened toward the rendezvous, where Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub
had been told to await his coming.
Months afterward, a party of trappers penetrating further than usual to
the westward, came upon the skeleton of an Indian warrior, seated on the
ground with his arms folded, and back resting against a rock behind him.
They supposed he had been killed and then placed in that posture, but we
know they were not altogether right in their belief.
Having turned his back for the last time on Hay-uta, the Shawanoe
hurried toward the ridge where he expected to rejoin his friends. It was
too dark to follow any trail, and indeed there was no call to do so. Had
nothing interfered, he knew the neighborhood of the spot where he would
find the boys, and he hastened toward it. Even if he went somewhat
astray, it would be no difficult matter to open communication with them.
The stream in which Jack and Otto had such rare sport scarcely checked
the progress of the Shawanoe, but when a short while after, he caught
the glimpse of a camp-fire on the slope of the ridge, he was displeased;
for it showed a degree of recklessness in them that he could not excuse.
If they chose to encamp there, they ought to have known better than to
turn it into a beacon light to guide the hostiles for miles around.
With an expression of displeasure, Deerfoot hastened his footsteps, and
reached camp sooner than he or his young friends anticipated. It can be
understood that the surprise was great on the part of all.