A DEVASTATED HOME
All three immediately dropped on their hands and knees. Rifles in hand
they scurried for the nearest shelter and awaited developments. A puff
of smoke floated upward from the bush whence the shot had come, as the
three fugitives stretched themselves prone behind the trunk of a large
fallen tree. After many moments of waiting Deerfoot cautiously raised
his head.
He dropped back again quickly, however, as a rifle ball splintered the
bark scarcely ten inches from him. Evidently their enemy was keeping a
sharp lookout. Apparently there was only one Indian in the bush, but
neither of the two young pioneers nor their red ally cared to take any
chances with him. For some moments there was absolute silence in that
part of the forest where this little drama was being enacted.
Suddenly Deerfoot stirred. He evidently had some scheme he wished to put
into execution.
“Give Deerfoot hat,” he whispered to Joseph, who lay next to him.
Without hesitation Joseph did as he was told. Deerfoot pulled a strip of
bark from the fallen tree and placed the hat upon one end of it, while
he held to the other. Cautiously and slowly he raised the hat until it
showed above their shelter. Immediately it was fired upon.
Deerfoot turned to his young friends and smiled grimly.
“I do that again,” he whispered. “When he fire, white boys jump to feet
and fire too. We take him by surprise.”
“A fine idea,” exclaimed Joseph eagerly. “Are you all ready, Bob?”
“All ready,” replied Robert quietly. “Just give me the signal.”
The two boys crouched, guns in hand, ready to spring to their feet
instantly. Deerfoot also prepared to do his part. He lay on his back and
slowly raised the hat; it was a nervous moment for the three people
behind the fallen tree trunk. They did not know whether or not their foe
would be deceived by their strategy and they could not be sure that only
one hostile redman lurked in the nearby bush. Day had now come, however,
and it was high time for them to move on. In a short time that portion
of Black Hawk’s band which had pursued them the night before might once
more appear and then their escape would be hopeless.
So gradually did Deerfoot raise the hat that it scarcely seemed to move.
Little by little, however, it was elevated on the stick until it showed
above the fallen log. Joseph and Robert waited with every muscle tense,
ready to spring to their feet the instant their enemy should fire. If
Deerfoot’s strategy succeeded and if there was only one Indian who
barred their way the three fugitives would soon be able to resume their
journey.
After what seemed to the two young pioneers to be a very long time the
hat appeared above the log. Now was the important moment, and of the
three persons hiding behind the fallen tree, two of them at least were
very nervous. The success or failure of their scheme would now be
determined in a very short time.
When at least two inches of the hat was exposed to view, Deerfoot
waited. Nothing happened, however. He raised the hat a bit higher. Still
there was no result. Perhaps their foe suspected a plot and was
determined not to be caught. That such could be the case seemed most
improbable, however. Deerfoot raised the hat still a little higher and
moved it slightly to one side, as if its owner was trying to conceal
himself behind something.
Bang! A shot suddenly struck the hat squarely in the center and
splintered the stick, tearing it from Deerfoot’s hand.
“Now, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph, springing to his feet.
Both boys immediately jumped up and taking quick aim fired into the bush
whence the bullets had come. Then they once more dodged behind the
sheltering log. A shrill cry at that moment startled them, however, and
looking up they saw Deerfoot, knife in hand, charging the spot where
their enemy was located. He uttered the war whoop of the Pottowattomies
and it was this that the boys had heard.
“We mustn’t let him go alone,” cried Robert, and as he spoke the two
young woodsmen dashed forward to lend what assistance they could to
their ally.
There was nothing for them to do, however, when they reached the bush.
Stretched upon the ground lay the Indian who had so nearly succeeded in
shooting and perhaps killing one of the three. Hideous he looked in his
gaudy war paint, smeared as he was with it from head to foot. One glance
was sufficient to convince the two brothers that their foe was dead, and
it was hard for them to repress a shudder, as they looked at the cruel
face on the ground before them, and realized what might have been their
fate had they fallen into the hands of such an enemy.
“Deerfoot, you mustn’t do that!” exclaimed Joseph suddenly.
Knife in hand Deerfoot was busily engaged in scalping his fallen foe. As
Joseph spoke, their Indian ally muttered something, but did not stop the
work in which he was engaged.
“Deerfoot—” began Joseph again, when Robert interrupted him.
“Let him alone, Joe,” he cautioned in a low voice. “It is his custom to
do that and he won’t like it if we stop him.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Joseph. “I can’t look at him, though,”
and he turned his back on the revolting scene being enacted on the
ground at his feet. The two young pioneers withdrew a short distance and
waited for Deerfoot to join them.
“That was a lucky shot that one of us made,” remarked Joseph.
“I should say so,” agreed Robert, who was busily engaged in reloading
his gun. “I wonder which one of us hit him.”
“I know I didn’t see him when I fired,” said Joseph. “I just aimed at
the bush and trusted to luck.”
“The same thing I did,” exclaimed Joseph.
“Well, as long as we were successful it doesn’t make much difference who
it was that hit him, I guess,” said Robert.
At this moment Deerfoot came to the place where the boys were standing.
Joseph could not help noticing the fresh scalp dangling at the belt of
the Indian and he felt a chill run up and down his spine at the sight.
As Robert had said, however, Deerfoot had only done what was customary
with his people and as he knew no better, he was not to be blamed.
“Come,” said Deerfoot. “Black Hawk soon find trail. Maybe he hear shots
too. We better go.”
“Where are we going?” demanded Joseph.
“Follow Deerfoot,” replied the Indian calmly.
“I want to go home,” exclaimed Joseph.
“So do I,” echoed Robert. “I want to know what has happened to our
family.”
“No go home,” protested Deerfoot. “All family dead. You know that.”
“That may be true,” said Joseph, “but I want to see with my own eyes. Do
you think I could just go away now and never know for sure that all my
family were dead? Even if they have been killed, and I’m afraid that’s
what has happened, I want to go back. I want to give them a decent
burial at least.”
“That’s just the way I feel,” exclaimed Robert.
“You may be killed, too,” protested Deerfoot.
“I’ll take that chance,” insisted Joseph. “You don’t have to go with us
if you don’t want to, you know. At any rate I think that would be the
last place they would think of looking for us. They won’t think that
we’ll dare go back there.”
“That’s right, Joe,” exclaimed his brother. “Are you going with us,
Deerfoot?”
“Deerfoot go where you go,” said the Indian shortly.
Without another word they set out. Deerfoot led the way as usual, with
the two brothers following close behind him. Extreme caution was used,
as they did not know when the hostile band of Indians might suddenly
loom up in their path. They had covered not more than a mile when
Deerfoot suddenly held up his hand and the boys instantly came to a full
stop.
“There house,” said Deerfoot, pointing ahead of him as he spoke.
Sure enough. Through the trees the young brothers could see a clearing
which they immediately recognized as theirs. They saw no house, however.
Steadily they crept nearer to the edge of the forest and a heart-rending
scene lay spread before their eyes. What had once been a sturdy little
cabin was now a mass of blackened embers from which a thin spiral of
smoke was still curling.
“Do you suppose it’s safe to go closer?” asked Robert in a
sorrow-stricken voice. “Out into the clearing, I mean.”
“I don’t know whether it is or not,” replied Joseph. “But I do know that
I am going anyway.”
The two brothers stepped out from the shelter of the trees and
approached their ruined home. They held their guns ready for immediate
use, however, and they were alert to any danger which might arise.
Deerfoot walked at their side.
“Me keep guard,” he said. “No stay long though, please.”
“No, not long, Deerfoot,” promised Joseph. The Indian took up his post
in the tiny orchard that the Hall family had nursed so carefully, while
the two boys went forward to examine the ruins.
The devastation had been complete. The smouldering pile of charred ruins
alone bore witness to the fact that a house had once stood on the site.
The two young brothers were too completely overcome to speak for several
moments. All they could do was to stand and look sorrowfully at the
ruins of what had once been their home.
“We can’t do much here, I guess,” said Joseph at length.
“No,” replied Robert, choking back a sob. “It looks as though Black Hawk
and his band have made a good job of it.”
“In those ruins,” went on Joseph bitterly, “undoubtedly lie the bodies
of our father and mother and our two sisters. Just think of it; at this
time yesterday they were alive and happy. Now they are all dead, burned
up by the flames of their own home and no doubt their scalps have been
taken, just as Deerfoot took the scalp of that Indian in the woods this
morning.”
“Well,” exclaimed Robert, “one thing is sure and that is that I shall
never rest until I have avenged their deaths. From now on I swear enmity
to Black Hawk and all his tribe. I’ll have revenge or die in the
attempt. That much I’m certain of.”
“Look there!” said Joseph. “They didn’t even spare Shep.”
A few feet away lay the body of a collie dog, a bullet through his
brain. Shep, the playmate and faithful friend of the Hall family, one
that had shared their fortunes uncomplainingly, whether they were good
or bad, had also fallen a victim to the blood lust of the hostile
redmen.
“We’ll avenge Shep too,” exclaimed Robert earnestly. “Come on, Joe! We
can’t do any good here and we are probably in danger too. Let’s find
Deerfoot and get out of here as fast as we can.”
“Where are we going to go?”
“I haven’t an idea. I haven’t thought that far. All I know is I want to
get away from here. The other settlers ought to be warned too before the
same thing happens to them that has happened to our family.”
“All right,” agreed Joseph. “Let’s find Deerfoot and go somewhere. I
don’t care much where it is either.”
When he saw the two brothers approaching to meet him Deerfoot hastened
toward them.
“Must hurry,” he exclaimed. “I think Black Hawk come soon.”
Not even asking where he intended to go, Joseph and Robert followed
Deerfoot and in a half-dazed condition walked beside him. To be made
orphans as suddenly and as unexpectedly as these two boys had been,
would be a shock to anyone and both young frontiersmen felt their loss
keenly.
They made their way across the clearing and were just about to enter the
woods when from behind them came the sharp bark of a rifle. A bullet
sang above their heads and buried itself in a nearby tree.