THE DEFIANCE.
The expression of the face of Deerfoot was terrible. The whole fury of
his nature was at white heat. He knew that the two Winnebagos had set
out to commit a fearful crime, and it was his work to stay their hands.
There was but the single way in which they could be stayed.
The young Shawanoe kept back a couple of paces from the edge of the
ravine, where the shadow of the stunted trees above would hide him from
his foes when they should come in sight. He held his gun pointed and
cocked. Though his passion had the glow of the furnace, he was as calm
as death.
[Illustration: "There was a fierce whizz like the rush of an eagle's
wing."]
He had not long to wait. By and by a low guttural exclamation struck his
ear, and his hearing, strung to a marvelously fine point, caught the
sound of the soft moccasins on the hard earth. Less than a minute later
the form of the Wolf came into the moonlight, as a bather emerges from
the side of a lake. Seeing the open ravine at his feet, he stopped, and
instantly his companion, Wau-ko-mia-tan, appeared at his side.
They quickly saw that the leap was an easy one.
"Wau-ko-mia-tan will leap across," said that warrior, "then the Wolf
will follow; let us lose no time, for the Shawanoe may be gone."
The speaker recoiled a single pace and gathered his muscles for the
leap. He took one quick step and made a terrific bound upward and
outward, straight for the rocky brink whereon Deerfoot the Shawanoe
instantly stepped into the moonlight.
The Winnebago was in mid-air, crouching like a leaper, with his legs
gathered under him and his arms at his side, when there was a fierce
whiz, like the rush of an eagle's wing, something flashed in the
moonlight, and the tomahawk, driven by a lightning-like sweep of the
Shawanoe's arm, was buried in the chest of the Winnebago as it would
have sunk in so much sodden earth.
An ear-splitting screech burst from the throat of the smitten warrior,
who struck the edge of the ravine like a bundle of rags flung thither,
and then tumbled to the bottom as dead as the jagged rock on which he
lay.
The Wolf stood transfixed, unable to understand what had taken place.
Then he saw the figure of the youthful warrior on the other side and
heard his voice.
"Rattlesnake of a Winnebago! Die the death of the rattlesnake!"
The wretch was given no time to protest again, for the words were yet in
the mouth of Deerfoot when the flash of his rifle lit up the partial
gloom, and the crack of the weapon mingled with the death shriek of the
redskin, who slumped end over end down the ravine and lay beside the
body of Wau-ko-mia-tan as dead as he.
"Thus shall die all that seek to follow your footsteps," muttered the
Shawanoe, who, standing where he stood when he slew both, proceeded to
reload his rifle with as much coolness as though he had just fired at a
target on a tree.
This finished, he let himself over the edge of the ravine, holding fast
a moment by one hand, and then letting go, dropped lightly beside the
two bodies that lay below. His face showed no excitement now, and he
moved with his usual care and deliberation. Drawing the hunting-knife
which he had taken from the Wolf, he partly bent over, but straightened
up again, saying to himself:
"Deerfoot is a Christian Indian and can not scalp a foe though as base
as they."
Picking up each rifle (that of Wau-ko-mia-tan being still clutched by
his nerveless fingers while the Wolf's had fallen from his grasp), he
deliberately broke the locks of each by striking them on the stones. He
then recovered his own tomahawk, and carried off the useless weapons
with him.
He passed down the ravine until he reached a point where the sides were
not so high. There he clambered out, still keeping the two broken guns.
He had reached high ground on the side from which had come the
Winnebagos, and he walked grimly forward, until in a brief while he
reached the main trail over which he and the boys had passed a brief
while before.
He turned toward the left, which led him in the direction of the camp of
the Ozarks as well as toward the camp of Black Bear and his Winnebagos.
He took longer steps than usual, but did not trot or run.
When he once more caught the glimmer of the camp-fire among the trees,
he slackened his pace and drew nigh with the caution that had become a
second nature to him. He quickly saw that the Winnebagos had disposed of
themselves for the night. The fire was burning as brightly as ever,
because of the attention it received from the two warriors who were
standing on guard.
The party were in a portion of the country where they knew there was
scarcely a possibility of their being molested by any one; but the
American Indian loves nothing like laziness and war; and, treacherous by
nature himself, he expects treachery at all times in others. And so,
although they knew of no enemies within miles of them (unless it was
Deerfoot, whom they did not fear) they had two vigilant sentinels on
duty. The rest were stretched out on their blankets with their feet
turned toward the blaze, sleeping like so many tired animals.
At the moment of Deerfoot's approach, the Winnebagos on guard were
standing some twenty feet apart, with the fire burning between them.
Each held a loaded gun in hand and cast his keen glance hither and
thither in the gloom, eyes and ears alert for the first suspicious sight
or sound.
The sentinel nearer Deerfoot was Black Bear himself. The chieftain
evidently believed that the best way to instruct his warriors in their
duty was to set the example. His attitude showed that something had
arrested his attention. Deerfoot knew that the sound had been made by
his moccasin, for he purposely rustled the leaves.
Black Bear looked intently off in the gloom, but seeing nothing, turned
his head and told the other guard to fling more wood upon the fire. He
obeyed, and the circle of light quickly extended out among the trees.
It would have been an easy matter for the Shawanoe to slay both, but he
had no thought of doing so. That would have been killing without
justification.
The Winnebago chieftain was gazing intently into the night, when from
behind a tree, no more than a dozen steps distant, softly stepped the
young Shawanoe.
"Listen, Black Bear," said he, "to the words of Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
Twice did he spare the life of the Wolf and the Wolf thanked him, but he
went out a third time to take his life; he was a rattlesnake, but he had
not the courage of the rattlesnake, for he took with him Wau-ko-mia-tan,
whose heart was that of a rattlesnake also; they bent their steps where
none but Deerfoot has the right to go; therefore Deerfoot killed them
and took away their guns. _There they are!_"
In the same minute that Deerfoot began speaking, the second sentinel
stepped forward and took his place beside his chief. That both were
amazed need not be said. Each stood with the muzzle of his gun lowered,
neither dreaming that the youth thought of assailing them.
Deerfoot spoke in the slow but impressive voice natural to his race. But
the last exclamation escaped him like the discharge from a Leyden jar.
So quickly that neither saw a movement, he hurled the broken gun of the
chief straight at him, following it with the second gun driven at his
companion.
Both hit their mark. Black Bear was struck in the chest with such force,
that he was carried off his feet and knocked half fainting to the earth.
The other was hit and compelled to recoil a step, but the weapon struck
him lengthwise, and he was not harmed. He rallied and brought his gun to
his shoulder, but by the time it was leveled, the Shawanoe had vanished.
Such an exploit, as you may well suppose, caused consternation among the
Winnebagos for the space of several minutes. No gun had been fired, but
the American Indian is a light sleeper, and slight as was the
disturbance, it aroused every one. There was a gathering about the
fallen chieftain, who, however, came to his feet without help, though he
gasped and was weak for a few moments. The explanation given by the
other sentinel removed the general fear of an attack, but three of the
warriors scattered through the wood to make sure that no surprise
overtook them, while the others with an agitation rare among red men
talked over the astounding occurrence.
The broken rifles lying on the ground left no doubt that when the
Shawanoe declared he had slain both the Wolf and Wau-ko-mia-tan he spoke
the truth. Else, how could their shattered guns be in his possession?
And this same youth, with an audacity beyond comprehension, had flung
the two guns at the chieftain and his brother warrior and defied them.
It seemed as though he must be more than a human being, to be capable of
such deeds. Legends had reached them of some of the exploits of the
wonderful young Shawanoe, but this surpassed them all.
The Winnebagos, however, were among the bravest tribes in the west, and
when they broke camp at early dawn, Deerfoot, who was on the watch, knew
that it was their determination to slay every one of the three hunters
in the camp at the foot of the Ozarks, as soon as they could reach
them.