ON THE EDGE OF THE PRAIRIE.
The night was far advanced when Fred Linden and Terry Clark reached the
stream, where the former remarked that their progress was stopped. Of
course he meant that they could continue if they chose to make another
raft or they could wade, but they had journeyed so far since dusk, and
the trouble of constructing a float was such that he thought it best to
wait where they were until daylight. They were pretty well fagged out,
and nothing could have been more grateful than to throw themselves on
the ground and sleep for several hours.
Terry was as tired as his companion, but he stood irresolute, inclined
to think it best that they should push on.
"The stream doesn't look very deep," said he, "and if ye agraas wid me
that we can wade, it'll be wiser if we make tother side and then
journey to the nixt straam."
"But that may be a good many miles further on."
"Thin all we have to do is to travel a good many miles," said the plucky
Irish lad, sitting down to take off his shoes.
"I shall never give in to _you_," remarked Fred, also seating himself
and beginning to remove his foot-gear.
Before any thing more could be done, however, both were startled by the
discovery that some one was on the other side of the stream. First they
heard the guttural exclamations which they knew were made by Indians,
and then they saw one of the red men come out into full view in the
moonlight.
Without a word, the boys hastily moved back under the shadow of the
trees, making sure that they also placed several rods between them and
the trail which they had followed to the edge of the water. Secure from
observation, they fastened their eyes on the other bank, where they saw
an interesting sight.
Three Indian warriors stood for fully five minutes in plain sight,
while they discussed the same question that had engaged the lads--that
is, in what manner the stream should be crossed.
It did not take them long to decide. The foremost stepped into the
water, followed by the other two, none removing his moccasins or
leg-gear, and in a brief while they came out upon dry land again, within
fifty feet of where the lads were crouching under shelter.
The boys trembled as they realized how narrow their escape had been. Had
they not paused for a few minutes, they would have been in the middle of
the stream, just as the others came down to the edge of the water. In
the light of their recent experience with the Winnebagos, they had not a
particle of doubt that the three belonged to the same tribe and that
they were fierce enemies. Had they not slain the boys, they would have
made captives of both and conducted them to the main party. Then when it
should have been found that one of the prisoners had the gun that once
belonged to the Wolf, their fate would have been sealed.
The incident drove from the mind of Fred all wish to tarry on the road.
He wished that they were many miles on their way to the camp in the
Ozarks. They considered themselves members of the little party of
hunters whom they could not reach any too soon.
"I obsarved while the spalpeens were wadin'," said Terry, "that none of
them wint lower in the water than their knees. Why didn't they take off
their shoes like dacent gintlemen, and cross as they should; but bein'
as they didn't do the same, why, we'll sit them the example."
A minute later, the boys stepped into the stream, and, by using care,
reached the other side, with all their garments dry. Their shoes were
quickly replaced, and the two were off again, so moved by what they had
seen, that for the time they forgot fatigue and every thing else.
"I tell you, Terry, that matters are beginning to look worse than even
Deerfoot thought, and you know that when he left us he didn't feel
satisfied, by any means."
"Could it be," asked his companion, "that these spalpeens don't belong
to the same crowd that we saw?"
"I am quite sure they do; these three would not have been so separated
from the others."
"Where could they have come from?" asked the puzzled Terry.
"Where all the Indians come from--the woods. I suppose a large party of
Winnebagos have been off on a tramp, and they are coming together with a
view of going home or of making an attack on some place or persons."
A random guess, like this, sometimes comes closer to the truth than a
labored theory. The three Indians whom they had so narrowly escaped were
members of Black Bear's party and were on their way to meet him.
Furthermore, there were more of them at no great distance.
"Me father lost his life by the Indians," said Terry, in a soft voice;
"but though it was not known what tribe the same belonged to, I don't
think they were Winnebagos; but Indians are Indians and are always ready
to kill white people whiniver the chance comes along."
"You are right; father doesn't think there is the least danger or he
wouldn't have sent for me. He has hunted several seasons without any
trouble with them, but he ought to have learned long ago to be forever
on the watch."
"Fred," said the other, stopping short in his excitement; "do ye think
they are goin' to attack the _sittlement_?"
"Impossible! There's the blockhouse and plenty of men to defend it
against a thousand savages."
"But the woods saam to be full of thim; there may be some kind of an
Indian war that has broke out and these are the first part of the rid
army that is to coom down and swaap us over the Rocky Mountains."
But Fred could not share in this prodigious fear. He faced to the front
again and laughed, as he resumed his walk.
"There couldn't be any thing like _that_ without warning reaching us;
some of the runners would have come to Greville with the news; besides,
Deerfoot would have been certain to know something about it."
"_That_ sittles it!" exclaimed Terry, with a sigh of relief; "ye are
right in sayin' the Shawanoe would have knowed about it; he would have
larned it before the spalpeens that started out on the war path, and,
bein' as he didn't say any thin', I'm sure ye are right; but all the
same, it looks bad for the Hunters of the Ozark, which maans oursilves
as well as the men in the mountains."
"There's no use of denying that there is enough to make all of us
anxious, but when I remember that father and Mr. Hardin and Bowlby have
spent so many years in the Indian country, I can not help feeling hope
that they will be able to take care of themselves. You know they are all
good shots and they have a cabin strong enough to stand a rough siege."
"I don't forgit the same; but there's a good many more rid than white
men and Mr. Bowlby is lame."
"What of that? He doesn't expect to fight with his feet."
"There are many scrimmages in which it's handy to use yer faat. If
Deerfut hadn't popped along just as I keeled over the Wolf I'd jumped
on him; then, do ye not mind that the men may take it into their heads
to run away."
"They have their horses," said Fred, foreseeing and agreeing with the
response that his young friend would make.
"Not one of 'em is worth a cint at such a time; a one-legged Indian
could outrun the fastest; they would have to stick fast to the trail
while the spalpeens would walk all around 'em."
"All that is true, but if they could get a good start, it would be very
handy for Mr. Bowlby to have one of the horses to ride."
"I don't see much chance of the same," was the sensible comment of
Terry; "but, me boy, have ye any idaa of what time it is?"
"It must be far beyond midnight: surely we are a long ways in advance of
the Winnebago camp where we left Deerfoot."
"They are not meaning to make a start to-night?"
"Of course not; they will not move until morning."
"Thin I'm in favor of an adjournment _sine die_, at once and without
waitin' any longer."
"What do you mean?" asked the puzzled Fred, stopping and looking around
at his companion.
"I'm tired out."
"So am I, but I made up my mind to keep walking till I dropped, before I
would give in to you. It will be a sensible thing for us to rest, but we
must get far enough from the trail, so that if any more stragglers come
along this way, they won't stumble over us."
This was only simple prudence. They groped along for several rods,
through the undergrowth and among the limbs, and were still walking,
when Terry's foot struck some obstruction and he fell flat.
"Are you hurt?" asked Fred.
"Hurt? No; that's the way I always lay down, as me uncle obsarved whin
he fell off the roof--call me early, Fred, and be sure ye don't take up
more of the bed--than--a--gintleman----"
The poor wearied fellow was asleep.
Fred smiled, as he lay down beside him The air was quite brisk, so he
unstrapped his blanket and flung part of it over his friend and the rest
over himself, the two lying back to back as they lay the night before in
the cavern. The dried leaves made as soft a couch as they could want and
Fred had only time to murmur a prayer to heaven, when he too became
unconscious.
They slumbered for four full hours, when both awoke at the same moment,
refreshed and strengthened. The sun was well up in the sky, and
fortunately the weather continued clear, crisp and bracing. Indeed it
could not have been more nearly perfect.
They laughed when they saw where they had made their bed, right in the
open wood, just as any wild animal would have done when overcome by
fatigue. There was no water within sight and no food at command. The
blanket was quickly folded up into a neat parcel and strapped to the
back of Fred and the two retraced their steps to the trail, which they
hoped to follow until it took them to the camp at the foot of the
Ozarks.
"I have found out one thing, that have I," remarked Terry, with the air
of one announcing a great discovery.
"What is that?"
"The hungriest young gintleman on the western side of the Mississippi is
the handsome youth whom ye have the honor of walkin' with this very
minute."
"I can feel for you on _that_ question," added Fred; "for it seems to me
that I never wanted food so bad in all my life; we must be on the
lookout for game. Do you know how to make that call that Deerfoot used
to bring the turkey to him?"
"No, but I know how to use the turkey after the same is brought to me.
If I should try the signal, it would scare all the turkeys and deer and
foxes and bears and wolves and beavers out of the country, which bein'
the same, I won't try it, principally because I don't know how to begin
to try it."
"My gracious, Terry; if you could shoot like you can talk, we wouldn't
have to wait long for something to eat."
"Whisht, Fred," whispered Terry, in some excitement; "the wood just
beyanst ye looks as if it wasn't any wood at all."
Fred Linden had noticed the peculiarity. The trees were becoming so
scarce and far apart that it was evident they were approaching some
extensive clearing where no trees grew at all. The next minute the two
stood on the edge of an immense prairie, which revealed a sight that
profoundly interested them.