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The Lost Trail

by Edward Sylvester Ellis · English · Gutenberg #6906 · 398,579 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Lost Trail

Author: Edward Sylvester Ellis


        
Release date: November 1, 2004 [eBook #6906]
                Most recently updated: October 31, 2014

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6906

Credits: Produced by Sean Pobuda


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST TRAIL ***




Produced by Sean Pobuda









THE LOST TRAIL

By Edward S. Ellis



CONTENTS

       I  AN ENEMY IN A TREE
      II  WHAT A RIFLE-SHOT DID
     III  ON THE BANK OF THE MISSISSIPPI
      IV  THE VISITOR FROM THE OTHER SHORE
       V  AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE
      VI  NIGHT AND MORNING
     VII  A SURPRISED FISHERMAN
    VIII  BEHIND THE TREE
      IX  A TIMELY ARRIVAL
       X  AT BAY
      XI  A PRIMITIVE FORT
     XII  AMONG THE TREE-TOPS
    XIII  A MESSAGE
     XIV  THE MANEUVRES OF DEERFOOT
      XV  "TALL OAKS FROM LITTLE ACORNS GROW"
     XVI  ON THE RIVER
    XVII  THE LOUISIANA SHORE
   XVIII  ON THE LOUISIANA SHORE
     XIX  THE SMOKE OF A CAMPFIRE
      XX  "GOOD-BYE!"
     XXI  THE NEIGH OF A HORSE
    XXII  A STRANGER
   XXIII  AN ABORIGINAL HOME
    XXIV  DEERFOOT
     XXV  AT BAY
    XXVI  AN UNEXPECTED INTERVIEW
   XXVII  A FAILURE
  XXVIII  THE EAVESDROPPER
    XXIX  WITHIN THE WIGWAM
     XXX  AN UNWELCOME VISITOR
    XXXI  PURSUER AND PURSUED
   XXXII  TURNING THE TABLES
  XXXIII  CONCLUSION




CHAPTER I

AN ENEMY IN A TREE


One afternoon in early spring, Jack Carleton, a sturdy youth of
seventeen years, was following a clearly-marked trail, leading
through the western part of Kentucky toward the Mississippi river.
For many a mile he followed the evenly spaced tracks made by a horse
on a walk, the double impressions being a trifle more than three
feet apart.

"Helloa!" exclaimed, Jack, when he looked at the earth again and
observed that the tracks had taken a new form, with nearly eight
feet between them.  "Otto has forced the colt to a trot.  He must be
in a hurry, or he thinks I am fond of traveling."

Thus far the lusty young Kentuckian felt no misgiving, but within
fifty yards the trail underwent the startling change--the footprints
being separated by more than three yards now.

"My gracious," muttered the boy, coming to a full stop, "something
is wrong: Otto would not have put the horse on a dead run if he
hadn't been scared."

Jack Carleton proved his training by the keenness and quickness with
which he surveyed his surroundings.  The woods were on every hand,
but they were open and free from undergrowth, so that he gained an
extensive view.

As he advanced with vigorous steps along the winding path, his eyes
sometimes rested on the pendulous branches of the majestic elm, a
small purple flower here and there still clinging to the limbs and
resisting the budding leaves striving to force it aside; the massive
oak and its twisted, iron limbs; the pinnated leaves of the hickory,
whose solid trunk, when gashed by the axe, was of snowy whiteness;
the pale green spikes and tiny flowers of the chestnut; the
sycamore, whose spreading limbs found themselves crowded even in the
most open spaces, with an occasional wild cherry or tulip, and now
and then a pine, whose resinous breath brooded like a perennial balm
over the vast solitude.

Jack Carleton was arrayed in the coarse, serviceable garb of the
border: heavy calf-skin shoes, thick trousers, leggings and coat,
the latter short and clasped at the waist by a girdle, also of
woolen and similar to that of the modern ulster.  The cap was of the
same material and, like the other garments, had been fashioned and
put together by the deft hands of the mother in Kentucky.
Powder-horn and bullet-pouch were suspended by strings passing over
alternate sides of the neck and a fine flint-lock rifle, the
inseparable companion of the Western youth, rested on the right
shoulder, the hand grasping it near the stock.

Jack's hasty survey failed to reveal any cause for fear, and he
resumed his pursuit, as it may be termed.  The quick glances he cast
on the ground in front showed, in every instance, that the horse he
was following was fleeing at the same headlong pace.  His rider had
spurred him to a dead run, at which gait he had shot underneath the
limbs of the trees at great risk to himself as well as to his rider.

The trail was broad, for loaded horses had passed in both
directions, and wild animals availed themselves of it more than once
in making their pilgrimages to the Mississippi, or in migrating from
one part of the country to the other.

But there were no footprints that had been made within the past few
days, with the single exception noted--that of the horse which had
abruptly broken into a full run.

The balmy afternoon was drawing to a close, and Jack began to
believe the chances were against overtaking his friend and
companion, young Otto Relstaub.

"If he has kept this up very long, he must be far beyond my reach,
unless he has turned about and taken the back trail."

Glancing at the sky as seen through the branches overhead, the youth
observed that it was clear, the deep blue flecked here and there by
patches of snowy clouds, resting motionless in the crystalline air.

Comparatively young as was Jack, he had been thoroughly trained in
woodcraft.  When beyond sight of the cabins of the straggling
settlement, where he made his home, he was as watchful and alert as
Daniel Boone or Simon Kenton himself.  His penetrating gray eyes not
only scanned the sinuous path, stretching in front, but darted from
side to side, and were frequently turned behind him.  He knew that
if danger threatened it was as likely to come from one point as
another.

He could not avoid one conclusion: the peril which had impelled the
young German's horse to such a burst of speed must have been in the
form dreaded above all others--that of the wild Indians who at that
day roamed through the vast wilderness of the West and hovered along
the frontier, eager to use the torch, the rifle, or the tomahawk,
whenever and wherever the way opened.

The probability that such was the cause of the horseman's haste
threw the young Kentuckian at once on his mettle.  Inasmuch as he
was putting forth every effort to rejoin his companion, there was
good reason for fearing a collision with the red men.  He had been
in several desperate affrays with them, and, like a sensible person,
he spared no exertion to escape all such encounters.

"If they will let me alone I will not disturb them," was the
principle which not only he, but many of the bravest frontiersmen
followed daring the eventful early days of the West.

The youth now dropped into the loping trot of the American Indian--a
gait which, as in the case of the dusky warrior himself, he was able
to maintain hour after hour, without fatigue.  The sharp glances
thrown in every direction were not long in making a discovery,
though not of the nature anticipated.

A short distance in front a white oak, whose trunk was fully two
feet in diameter, grew beside the trail which he was following.  Its
shaggy limbs twisted their way across the path and among the
branches on the other side.  The exuberant leaves offered such
inviting concealment to man and animal that the youth subjected them
to the keenest scrutiny.

His trot dropped to a slow walk, and he instinctively glanced at the
lock of his gun to make sure it was ready for any emergency.

Something was moving among the branches of the forest monarch, but
Jack knew it was not an Indian.  No warrior would climb into a tree
to wait for his prey, when, he could secure better concealment on
the ground, where he would not be compelled to yield the use of his
legs, which play such an important part in the maneuverings of the
red man.

The lad caught several glimpses of the strange animal, and, when
within a few rods, identified it.

"It's a painter," he said to himself, with a faint smile, resuming
his slow advance and giving a sigh of relief; "I don't know whether
it is worth while to give him a shot or not."

The name "painter," so common among American hunters, is a
corruption of "panther," which is itself an incorrect application,
the genuine panther being found only in Africa and India.  In South
America the corresponding animal is the jaguar, and in North America
the cougar or catamount, and sometimes the American lion.

Jack Carlton did not hold the brute in special fear, though he knew
that when wounded or impelled by hunger he was a dangerous foe.
During an unusually cold day, only a few months before, one of them
had made an open attack on him, inflicting some severe scratches and
tearing most of his clothes to shreds.

It would have been one of the easiest things in the world for the
young Kentuckian to settle the whole question by leaving the trail
and making a detour that would take him safely by the treacherous
beast, which, as a rule, is afraid to assault a person.  The lad was
certain that at that season of the year it would not leave the tree
to attack him.

But if he took such a course, it would be a confession of timidity
on his part against which, his nature and training rebelled.

"No," Said he, after brief hesitation, "I won't leave the path for
all the painters this side of the Mississippi.  It may not be wise
for me to fire my gun just now and I won't do it, if he behaves
himself, but I don't mean to put up with any nonsense."

He brought his weapon in front, raised the hammer and closely
watched the animal above, while the quadruped was equally intent in
observing him.  It was a curious sight--the two scrutinizing each
other with such defiant distrust.

The cougar was crouching on a broad limb, just far enough from the
trunk of the oak to be directly over the trail.  He was extended
full length, and, as partly seen through the leaves, offered the
best target possible for the marksman below.

But Jack preferred not to fire his gun, for the reason that the
report was likely to be heard by more dangerous enemies.  His
purpose was to refrain from doing so, unless forced to shoot in self
defense, and his pride would not permit him to deviate a
hair's-breadth from the path in order to escape the necessity of
shooting.

He walked with the deliberate, noiseless tread of an Indian, looking
steadily upward at the eyes which assumed a curious, phosphorescent
glare, that scintillated with a greenish light, as the relative
position of the enemies changed.

The lad passed under the limbs staring unflinchingly aloft.  When
exactly beneath, the cougar was hidden for an instant from sight,
but, recognizing the changing conditions, he quickly lifted his head
to the right, and the lad again saw the greenish glare, the white
teeth, and blood red mouth.  He traced the outlines of the sinewy
body close along the limb, and through which he could have driven a
bullet with fatal certainty.  The "painter," whose scream is often
mistaken for the cry of a human being, uttered an occasional
snarling growl as he looked down on the lad.  His attitude and
manner seemed to say: "I've got my eye on you, young man!  Walk very
straight or you will find yourself in trouble."

The probability that a cougar is gathering his muscles on a limb
with the intention of bounding down on one's shoulders, is enough to
make the bravest man uneasy.  Jack Carleton did feel a creeping
chill, but the same pride which prevented him deviating a
hair's-breadth from the trail, would not allow him to increase or
retard his gait.

"If you think you can make me run, old fellow," he muttered, with
his gaze still fixed on the beast, "you are mistaken.  We don't meet
wild animals in Kentucky that are able to drive us out of the woods.
You needn't fancy, either, that I am in any hurry to walk away from
you."

And, to show the contempt in which he held the beast, the youth at
that moment came to a full stop, turned about and faced him.




CHAPTER II

WHAT A RIFLE-SHOT DID


The moment the young Kentuckian assumed this attitude, he became
aware that the cougar had determined upon hostilities.

With a rasping snarl he buried his claws in the shaggy bark,
pressing his body still closer to the limb, and then shot downward
straight toward Jack, who was too vigilant to be caught unprepared.
Leaping backward a couple of steps, he brought his gun to his
shoulder, like a flash, and fired almost at the moment the animal
left his perch.  There could be no miss under the circumstances, and
the "painter" received his death wound, as may be said, while in
mid-air.  He struck the ground with a heavy thump, made a blind leap
toward the youthful hunter, who recoiled several steps more, and
then, after a brief struggle, the beast lay dead.

During these moments, Jack Carleton, following the rule he was
taught when first given his gun, occupied himself with reloading the
weapon.  A charge of powder was poured from the hollow cow's horn,
with its wooden stopper, into the palm of his hand, and this went
rattling like fine sand down the barrel.  The square piece of muslin
was hammered on top until the ramrod almost bounded from the gun;
then the bullet which the youthful hunter had molded himself, was
shoved gently but firmly downward, backed by another bit of muslin.
The ramrod was pushed into its place, and the hammer, clasping the yellow,
translucent flint, was drawn far back, like the jaw of a wild cat,
and the black grains sprinkled into the pan.  The jaw was slowly let
back so as to hold the priming fast, and the old fashioned rifle, such
as our grandfathers were accustomed to use, was ready for duty.

Jack surveyed the motionless figure on the ground and said:

"I don't think you'll ever amount to anything again as a painter; at
any rate, you ain't likely to drop on to a fellow's head when he is
walking under a tree."

And, without giving him any further notice, he turned about and
resumed his walk toward the Mississippi.

It was vain, however, for him to seek to suppress his anxiety.  The
trail of the flying horse still indicated that he was going on a
dead run, and some unusual cause must have impelled him to do so.
Jack could not doubt that his friend Otto was driven to such severe
effort by the appearance of Indians, but it would seem that the
terrific gait of the Steed ought to have taken him beyond all danger
very speedily, whereas, for more than a mile, the pace showed not
the slightest diminution.

At the most, Otto was not more than an hour in advance, and his
friend, therefore, had good reason to fear he was in the immediate
vicinity of the dreaded red men.

The young hunter was brave, but he was not reckless.  He had refused
to turn aside to avoid a collision with the cougar, but he did not
hesitate to leave the trail, in the hope of escaping the savages who
were likely to be attracted by the report of the gun.

From the beginning the lad had stepped as lightly as possible,
bringing his feet softly but squarely down on the ground, after the
fashion of the American Indian, when threading his way through the
trackless forest.  He now used the utmost care in leaving the trail,
for none knew better than he the amazing keenness of the dark eyes
that were liable to scan the ground over which he had passed.

Not until he was several rods from the footprints of the flying
horse did he advance with anything like assurance.  He then moved
with more certainty until he reached a chestnut, whose trunk was
broad enough to afford all the concealment he could desire.

Stepping behind this, Jack assumed a position which gave him a view
of the trail, with no likelihood of being seen, unless the suspicion
of the Indians should be directed to the spot.

"If they are coming, it is time they showed themselves."

The words were yet in the mouth of the youth, when something seemed
to twinkle and flicker among the trees, in advance of the point
where he had turned aside from the path.  A second look allowed that
two Indian warriors were returning along the trail.

He recognized them as Shawanoes--one of the fiercest tribes that
resisted the march of civilization a century ago.  It may be said
that they corresponded to the Apaches of the present day.

The couple were scrutinizing the ground, as they advanced with heads
thrown forward and their serpent-like eyes flitting from side to
side.  Manifestly they were expecting to discover certain parties
along the trail itself.  There may have been something in the
peculiar sound of the rifle, which raised their suspicions, though
it is hard to understand wherein the report of two similarly made
weapons can possess any perceptible difference.

Be that as it may, that which Jack Carleton feared had taken
place--the shot which killed the cougar brought far more dangerous
enemies to the spot.

The lad would have had no difficulty in picking off one of the
warriors, but he had not the remotest intention of doing so.  There
could be no justification for such a wanton act, and the consequences
could not fail to be disastrous to himself.  He was never better
prepared to support the creed of the frontiersmen who would willingly
leave the red men unmolested if they in turn sought to do them no harm.

The Shawanoes soon passed by, making no pause until they reached the
carcass of the panther.  They quickly saw the bullet-wound, between
his fore legs, and understood that his heart had been pierced while
in the act of leaping from his perch upon the hunter beneath.  A
brief scrutiny of the ground brought to light the impressions of the
calf-skin shoes of him who had fired the fatal shot.

They understood at once that the party was a white person, and,
judging from the size of the footprints, he clearly was an adult-one
who, it was safe to conclude, was able to taking good care of
himself; but it must have been a relief to the warriors when their
examination of the earth showed that only a single member of the
detested race had been concerned in the death of the cougar.

That which followed was precisely what the watcher expected.  The
moment the red men were certain of the direction taken by the hunter
they started along the same line.  The foremost looked down for an
instant at the ground, and then seemed to dart a glance at every
visible point around him.  The other warrior did not once look down,
but guarded against running into any ambush for it need not be said
that the task on which they were engaged was most delicate and
dangerous.

The American Indian cannot excel the white man in woodcraft and
subtlety, and no Kentucky pioneer ever stood still and allowed a
dusky foe to creep upon him.

It will be conceded that a point had been reached where Jack
Carleton had good cause for alarm.  Those Shawanoe were following
his trail, and they had but to keep it up for a short distance when
he was certain to be "uncovered."

"I wish there was only one of them," muttered the youth, stealthily
peering from behind the tree; "it will be hard to manage two."

The coolness of Jack was extraordinary.  Though he felt the
situation was critical in the highest degree, yet there was not a
tremor of the muscles, nor blanching of the countenance, as it would
seem was inevitable when such a desperate encounter impended.

There was a single, shadowy hope; it was fast growing dark in the
woods, and the eyes of the Shawanoes, keen as they were, must soon
fail them.  The sun had set and twilight already filled the forest
arches with gloom.

Peering around the bark, Jack saw the leading Indian bend lower,
leaving to the other the task of guarding against mishap.  He walked
more slowly; it was plain his task was not only difficult, but was
becoming more so every moment.

Jack followed the movements with rapt attention.  Knowing the
precise point where he had left the path, his heart throbbed faster
than was its wont, when he saw his enemies close to the tingle in
his course.  A half minute later they were beyond--they had overrun
his trail.

A short distance only was passed, when the warriors seemed to
suspect the truth.  They came to a halt, and the trail-hunter sank
upon his knees.  His head was so close to the ground that it looked
as if he were drawing lines and figures with his curving nose, which
slowly circled around and back and forth.  At the same time the palm
of his right hand gently moved over the leaves, touching them as
lightly as the falling snowflakes, and with as wonderful delicacy as
that of the blind reader, when his fingers are groping over the
raised letters of the Book of Life.

The young Kentuckian from his place of concealment smiled to
himself.

"There are some things which even a Shawanoe, cannot do, and that's
one of them."

Such was the fact; for, with that care which the trained pioneer
never permits himself to forget or disregard, the lad had adopted
every artifice at his command to add to the difficulty of
identifying his footsteps.

The warrior straightened up with an impatient "Ugh!" which brought
another smile to the face of the watcher, for it proved beyond
question the failure of his foes.

The Shawanoe, however, had established one fact--the overrunning of
the trail.  The one for whom they were searching had left the path
at some point behind them.  Scant chance was there of learning the
precise spot.

"Follow me if you can," was the exultant thought of Jack, who
carefully lowered the hammer of his rifle.  "I'm glad that as the
painter was determined on picking a quarrel with me he did not do it
earlier in the day--helloa!"

While speaking to himself, he became aware that the warriors were
invisible.  They may have believed they were acting as oscillating
targets for some hidden enemy, who was likely to press the trigger
at any moment; and, unable even to approximate as they were his
biding-place, they withdrew in their characteristic fashion.

Jack thrust his head still further from behind the tree, and finally
stepped forth that he might obtain the best view he could.  But the
red men had vanished like the shadows of swiftly-moving clouds.
Nothing more was to be feared from that source.

But with the lifting of the peril from his own shoulders, there
returned his distressing anxiety for his absent companion.  No doubt
could exist that when he put his horse to his hurried flight, he had
done so to escape the Indians.  Whether he had succeeded remained to
be learned, but Jack felt that every probability was against it.

He might well debate as to his own duty in the premises.  His one
desire was to learn what had become of Otto, the German lad, with
whom he left the Settlements a couple of days before.  Neither had
ever visited this section, but they were following the instructions
of those who had, and the young Kentuckian knew the precise point in
their journey that had been reached.

Standing as motionless as the trees beside him and amid the
darkening shadows, Jack Carleton listened with the intentness of an
Indian scout stealing into a hostile camp.

The soft murmur which seems to reach us when a sea-shell is held to
the ear filled the air.  It was the voice of the night--the sighing
of the scarcely moving wind among the multitudinous branches, the
restless movements of myriads of trees--the soft embrace of millions
of leaves, which, like the great ocean itself, even when the air is
pulseless, is never at rest.

Jack Carleton had spent too many days and nights in the woods to be
greatly impressed with the solemnity and grandeur of his
surroundings.  That which would have awed his soul, if noted for the
first time, had lost the power to do so from its familiarity; but
while in the attitude of listening, he became conscious of another
sound which did not belong to the vast forest, the throbbing air,
nor the gathering darkness.




CHAPTER III

ON THE BANK OF THE MISSISSIPPI


That which reached the ears of Jack Carleton, while he stood in the
woods, silent and listening, was a peculiar swashing noise, which
continued a few seconds, followed by the same space of silence--the
intervals being as regular as the ticking of a huge pendulum.
Accompanying the sound was another, a soft, almost inaudible flow,
such as one hears when standing on the bank of a vast stream of
water.

He knew that both were caused by the sweep of the mighty Mississippi
which was near at hand.  The reason for the first he could not
understand, but that of the latter was apparent.  He had never
looked upon the Father of Waters, but many a time he had rested
along the Ohio and been lulled to sleep by its musical flow, even
while the camp-fires of the hostile red men twinkled on the other
shore.

Manifestly nothing could be done by remaining where he was, and, in
the same guarded manner in which he left the trail a half hour
before, he began picking his way back.  Probably he ran greater
personal risk in following the beaten path, yet he was controlled by
a true hunter's instinct in every movement made.

When he reached the trail, he observed that not only had the night
descended, but the full moon was shining from an almost unclouded
sky.  The trees, crowned with exuberant vegetation, cast deep
shadows, like those of the electric light, and only here and there
did the arrowy moonbeams strike the ground, redolent with the odors
of fresh earth and moldering leaves.

"Some of the warriors may be returning or groping along the trail,"
was the thought of the youth, who glided silently forward, his
senses on the alert.  His misgivings, however, were much less than
when watching the two Shawanoes, for with the dense gloom of the
forest inclosing him on every hand, he felt that the shelter was not
only secure but was of instant avail.

Less than a furlong was passed, when he caught the shimmering of
water.  A few steps further and he stood for the first time on the
bank of the Mississippi.

The youth felt those emotions which must come to every one when he
emerges from a vast forest at night and pauses beside one of the
grandest streams of the globe.  At that day its real source was
unknown, but Jack, who was unusually well informed for one of his
years, was aware that it rose somewhere among the snowy mountains
and unexplored regions far to the northward, and that, after its
winding course of hundreds of leagues, during which it received the
volume of many rivers, enormous in themselves, it debouched into the
tropical waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

The reflection of the turbid current showed that it was flowing
swiftly.  The dark line of the forest on the other shore appeared
like a solid wall of blackness, while to the north and south the
view ended in the same impenetrable gloom.

Impressed and awed by the scene, the lad saw something which at
first startled him by its resemblance to a man, standing in the
river, with his feet braced against the bottom and his head and
shoulders above the surface.  The current seemed to rush against his
bared breast, from which it was cast back and aside, as though flung
off by a granite rock.  Then the head bowed forward, as if the
strong man sought to bathe his brain in the cooling waters, that he
might be refreshed against the next shock.

A minute's scrutiny was enough to show Jack that the object was a
tree, which, rolling into the river at some point, perhaps hundreds
of miles above, had grown weary of its journey, and, plunging its
feet into the muddy bed of the stream, had, refused to go further.
The fierce current would lift the head several feet with a splash,
but could hold it thus only a part of a minute, when it would dip
for a brief while, to rise again and repeat the action.

The tree was what is known to-day on the Mississippi as a "sawyer,"
and which is so dreaded by the steamers and other craft navigating
the river.  Many a boat striking at full speed against them, have
had their hulls pierced as if by a hundred-pound shell, and have
gone to the bottom like stone.

It was the sound made by the "sawyer" which had puzzled Jack
Carleton before he caught sight of the great river.  He could not
wonder that he had failed to guess the cause of the intermittent
swash which reached him through the woods.

"And we must cross that stream,"  murmured Jack, with half a
shudder, as he looked out upon the prodigious volume rushing
southward like myriads of wild horses; "it seems to me no one can
swim to the other shore, nor can a raft or boat be pushed thither."

The plucky boy would not have felt so distrustful and timid had the
sun been shining overhead.

"Ish dot you, Jack?"

Young Carleton turned his head as if a war hoop had sounded in his
ear.  He fairly bounded feet when he recognized his old friend at
his elbow.  The good-natured German lad was grinning with delight,
as he extended his chubby hand and asked:

"How you vos?"

"Why, Otto!" gasped Jack, slapping his palm against that of his
friend and crushing it as if in a vise.  "I am so glad to see you."

"So I vos," was the grinning response; "I'm always glad to shake
hands mit myself."

"But," said the other, looking furtively over each shoulder in turn,
"let's move away the trail, where we cannot be seen or heard."

The suggestion was a wise one, and acted upon without delay. The
friends entered the wood, which continued quite open, and tramped
steadily forward with the intention of finding place where they
could start a fire and converse without danger of discovery by
enemies.

The hearts of both were too full for hold their peace while stealing
forward among the trees.

"Otto," said Jack, "where is the colt?"

"I dinks he's purty near New Orleans as soon as dis time."

Young Carleton looked wonderingly toward friend and asked, "What do
you mean?"

"I don't mean vot I don't say and derefore dinks I mean vot I vos."

"So the colt went into the river?  Where were you?"

"Mit de colt and he vos mit me, so we bot vos mit each other.  Just
feels of me."

Jack reached out his hand and pinched the clothing of his friend in
several places.  It was saturated.

"Ven I valks, de vater in my shoes squishes up to mine ears--don't
you hear 'em?"

"Why don't you pour it out?"

"I hef done so, tree time already--I done so again once more."

And, without ado, the young German threw himself forward on his
hands and head and kicked his feet with a vigor that sent the
moisture in every direction.  Indeed the performance was conducted
with so much ardor that one of the shoes flow off with considerable
violence.  Otto then reversed himself and assumed the upright
posture.

"Mine gracious," he exclaimed, "where didn't dot shoe of mine went?"

"It just missed my face," replied Jack, with a laugh.

"Dot vos lucky," said Otto, beginning to search for his property.

"Yes; it might have hurt me pretty bad."

"I means it vos lucky for de shoe," added Otto, who, in groping
about, stumbled at that moment upon the missing article.  "Bime by
de vater soaks down mine shoes agin and I stands on head and kicks
it out."

But Jack Carleton was anxious to learn what had befallen his friend
since their voluntary separation some hours before, and so, while
they were advancing along the shore, the story was told.

Otto, as he had agreed to do, was riding at a leisurely pace, when,
without the least warning, the sharp crack of a rifle broke the
stillness of, the woods on his right, and the bullet zipped so close
to his forehead that it literally grazed the skin, leaving a faint
mark, which was visible several days afterward.

The lad was never so frightened in all his life.  For a minute or so
he was absolutely speechless, during which the horse, alarmed in a
less degree than he, broke into a trot.  Otto, however, quickly
regained his self-control, and fully realized his danger.  He did
not glance behind him nor to the right or left.  No investigation
was needed convince him of his peril.  He put the horse to a dead
run, first throwing himself forward on his neck so as to offer the
least possible target to his enemies.

Only the single shot was fired, and Jack counted it strange that the
report failed to reach his ears.  When the fugitive had gone a
considerable distance, he ventured to look back.  He thought he saw
several Indians, but it was probably fancy, for had they observed he
was leaving them behind (as would have been the case), they surely
would have appealed to their rifles again.

Otto was in such danger from the overhanging limbs, and was so
fearful that he was running a gauntlet of Indians, that he kept his
head close to the mane of his steed and scarcely looked to see where
they were going.

The awakening came like an electric shock, when the terrified horse
made a tremendous plunge straight out into the river.  The first
notice Otto received was the chilling embrace of the waters which
enveloped him to the ears.  He held his rifle in his right hand,
and, in his desperate efforts to save that, was swept from the back
of the animal, which began swimming composedly down stream,
carrying saddle, blankets and other valuable articles that were
strapped to him back.

Encumbered with his heavy clothing and his gun, young Otto Relstaub
had all he could do to fight his way back to land.  He escaped
shipwreck as by a hair's-breadth, from the sawyer which had
attracted the notice of Jack.

"I vos swimming as hard as nefer vos," he explained, "and had just
got in front of the tree, ven as true as I don't live, it banged
right down on top mit me and nearly knocked out my brains out.  I
grabbed hold of it, when it raised up and frowed me over its head.
Den I gots mad and swims ashore."

Jack laughed, for, though he knew his friend was prone to
exaggeration, he could understand that his experience was similar,
in many respects, to what he had stated.

"After the shore reaches me," continued Otto, "I turns around free,
four times to find where I ain't.  I see de colt going down stream
as fast as if two Indians was on his back sitting and paddling him
mit paddles.  I called to him to come back and explained dot he
would cotch him cold if he didn't stay too long in de vater, but he
makes belief he don't hears me, and I bothers him no more."

"There will be trouble at home when your father finds out the colt
is lost," said Jack Carleton, who knew how harsh the parent of Otto
was; "it must be he returned to land further down."

"Yes; bimeby he comes ashore."

"Why didn't you recover him?"

"'Cause he swims out on de oder side and he would not wait till I
could go back mit de settlements and got mine frens to come and
build one boat.  I vos gone so long dot it vos night ven I comes
back, and ven I sees you I dinks you vos an Indian or maybe some
other loafer."

Jack Carleton was about to reply to this remark when both he and his
friend caught sight the same moment of the star-like twinkle of a
point of light.

While there was nothing specially noteworthy in this, yet both were
impressed by the fact that the light was not only on the river, but
was serving as a signal to some one standing on the same shore with
them.




CHAPTER IV

THE VISITOR FROM THE OTHER SHORE


Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub saw the twinkling point of light,
glowing like a star from the bank of darkness on the other side the
Mississippi.  It shone for a minute with an intense brightness, and
then, to their amazement, began revolving in a circle of a foot or
more in diameter.  It sped round and round with such swiftness that
it resembled a wheel of fire without the slightest break in the
flaming periphery.

"What can it mean?" asked the mystified Jack.

"I vos told something apout afire dot vos to jump apout in one
circle," was the remarkable statement of Otto.

"What was it?"

"I don't forgot him now," replied the German with the hesitating
speech of one in doubt.

"Well, you're the prize blockhead of the West," was the impatient
comment of the young Kentuckian.  "How you could have heard anything
of that signal--as it must be--and forget it is beyond my understanding."

"Dot's what I dinks.  I'll remember sometime after a few days--helloa!"

His exclamation was caused by the blotting out of the circular fire
which had caused so much speculation.  Looking toward the western
bank of the Mississippi all was darkness again, the light having
vanished.

Jack stooped so as to bring his head on a level with the surface of
the river, and peered intently out over the moonlit surface.

"That torch was waved by an Indian in a canoe," said he, in a low
voice, "and he is paddling this way."

Otto imitated the action of his friend, and saw that he had spoken
the truth.  The outlines of a boat, dimly distinguishable, were
assuming definite shape with such rapidity that there could be no
doubt the craft was approaching them.

As there was no question that the fiery ring was meant for a signal,
Jack Carleton concluded that a party of red men were communicating
with those from whom the boys had effected so narrow an escape.
Such a supposition showed the necessity of great care, and the
friends, without speaking, stepped further from the edge of the
stream, where they were in no danger of being seen.

As the boat came nearer, and its shape was more clearly marked, the
boys discovered that only a single warrior sat within.  He was in
the stern, manipulating his long, ashen paddle with such rare skill
that he seemed to pay no heed to the current at all.

"There's only one of them," whispered the astonished Jack.  "How
easily we can pick him off!"

Otto brought his gun to his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" demanded the angry Jack.

"Pick him off!"

"No, you don't.  He may be a friend."

"We'll found dot out, after we don't shoot him.  Let's shoot him
first," was the suggestion of Otto, "and then ax him the question."

"Even if an enemy--as he undoubtedly is--it would be cowardly to
slay him in that fashion.  As there is only one--!"

"Dere!" exclaimed the young Teuton, hardly to suppress his
excitement over the recollection; "I knowed dat I had recumlected
some dings."

"What is it?"

"Dot young gentleman in dot boat is a great friend of mine.  He told
me he would meet me at the crossing, if I didn't reach him pefore
till it was come dark.  Dot vos vat I didn't forget till de fire
pegun to whirl apout, and then I didn't remember."

"Who is he?" asked the astonished Jack.

"Deerfoot, the Shawanoe," was the reply of Otto, who, with a light
heart, stepped closer to the edge of the swiftly flowing river and
called out:

"Holloa, Deerfoot!  How you vos?"

The mention of the name called up strange emotions in the breast of
Jack Carleton.  For a year previous, stories had reached the
settlement where he had made his home, of the wonderful Shawanoe
youth, who was captured when a child, and while he was as untameable
in his hatred of the whites as a spitting wildcat, but who was
transformed by kindness into the most devoted friend of the
pioneers.

Ned Preston, who lived at Wild Oaks, nearly a hundred miles distant
from Jack's home, visited the latter a few months before, while on a
hunting excursion, with his colored friend Wild-blossom Brown, and
it was from him that Jack had gained many particulars of the
remarkable history of the young Shawanoe.

Jack credited the statements of Deerfoot's amazing skill in the use
of his bow and arrow, his wonderful fleetness of foot, and his
chivalrous devotion to his friends; but when told that the youth
could not only read, but could write an excellent hand, and that he
was a true Christian, Jack felt many misgivings of the truth of the
whole story.

Jack recalled further the statement that Deerfoot was held in such
detestation by his own race that he became convinced his presence
was an element of weakness rather than strength to his friends, and
it was for that reason he had migrated west of the Mississippi.

The youthful warrior, seated in the stem of the canoe, gave no
evidence that he saw the stubby figure of the German lad who stepped
close to the water and hailed him by name.  One powerful impulse of
the paddle sent the bark structure far up the bank, like the snout
of some aquatic monster plunging after the lad awaiting it.

Before it came to rest, Deerfoot sprang lightly ashore, and,
grasping the front of the boat, drew it still further from the
river, where it was not only safe against being swept away, but
could not be seen by any one passing in the neighborhood.

His next proceeding was to pick up his bow from the bottom of the
canoe, after which he was prepared to see that others were near him.
Turning about, he extended his hand to Otto with the smiling
greeting: "How do you do, my brother?"

The words were spoken with as perfect accentuation as Jack Carleton
could have used.  Had the speaker been invisible, no one would have
believed him to be an Indian.

"I does vell," replied Otto, shaking his hand firmly.  "Dis ish my
friend, Jack Carleton, dot I dinks a good deal of."

Dropping the hand of the German, Deerfoot took one step forward and
saluted the young Kentuckian in the same manner.  He pressed his
hand warmly, and, with the same smile as before, said:

"Deerfoot is glad to meet his brother."

As he uttered these words the moonlight fell on his face and the
front part of his body, so that a better view of countenance and
features could not have been obtained.

Nearly a year had passed since we last saw Deerfoot (see "Ned on the
River").  During that period, he had almost attained the full
stature of a warrior.  It may be said that there was no single
person, whether of his own or the Caucasian race, whom Deerfoot held
in personal fear.

Those who have done me the honor of reading the "Young Pioneer
Series," will recall the marked attractiveness of Deerfoot's
countenance.  The classical regularity of his features was relieved
from effeminacy by the slightly Roman nose, which, with the thin
lips, gave him an expression of firmness and nerve that was true to
his character.

When he stepped in front of the great Tecumseh, with his knife
clenched in his band, and dared the chieftain to mortal combat, the
luminous black eyes flashed lightning, and the muscles on the
graceful limbs were knotted like iron.  They were now in repose and
the eyes were as soft as those of a maiden.

When Deerfoot smiled it was rarely more than it faint, shadowy
expression, just sufficient to reveal the small, even, white teeth
and to add to the winsomeness of his expression.

The love of finery and display seems natural to every human being,
and it manifested itself in the dress of the young Shawanoe.  The
long black hair, which streamed down his shoulders, was ornamented
at the crown by several eagle feathers, brilliantly stained and
thrust in place.  The fringes of the neatly fitting leggings were
also colored, and the moccasins which incased the small shapely
feet, were interwoven with beads of every line of the rainbow.  The
body of the hunting shirt as well as the skirt, which descended
almost to his knees, showed what may be called a certain subdued
gaudiness which was not without its attractiveness.

The waist of the Shawanoe was clasped by a girdle into which were
thrust a knife and tomahawk.  Relying upon the bow, instead of the
rifle, he carried a quiver full of arrows, just showing over the
right shoulder, where they could be readily plucked with his deft
left hand, whenever required.

Deerfoot had tested both the rifle and the bowl and as has been
shown gave his adherence to the latter.

Jack Carleton said to himself, "He is the handsomest being I ever
looked upon."

He was perfect in build, graceful in every movement, with an
activity and power almost incredible, an eye large, black, and
honest, but keen and penetrating, and a command of which approached
the marvelous.

These characteristics of the young warrior struck Jack Carleton
while pressing the warm hand of his new friend and looking into his
pleasing countenance for the first time.

"I am delighted to see you," he said, recalling the amazing stories
told of Deerfoot by Ned Preston, and beginning to think that, after
all, they may have contained more truth than fiction.

Before Jack could add anything more, Otto Relstaub, who was staring
at the two, heaved a great sigh, as if fearing some danger would
come upon them.

"What is the matter with my brother?" asked Deerfoot, looking
inquiringly toward him with his old smile.

"I asks mineself if we stands here till all last night, don't it?"

"I suppose we may as well seek more comfortable quarters," remarked
Jack Carleton, who turned to the young warrior and added, "When
Deerfoot is present no one else dare lead.  What says he?"




CHAPTER V

AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE


On a tempestuous night in midwinter the little settlement of
Coatesville, in Kentucky, was assailed by a fierce band of Shawanoes
and Hurons.  The pioneers were surprised, for the hour was near
daybreak, and, accustomed as they were to the forays of the border,
they were without the slightest warning of the danger which burst
upon them.  They rallied, however, and made an heroic defense, but
when with the dawning of day the warriors withdrew, they left more
than half the hearthstones darkened with sorrow and woe, because of
one or more of its defenders who had fallen in the strife.

Among those that had perished was Abram Carleton, shot down on his
own threshold while fighting for his wife and his boy Jack, who
themselves were doing their utmost to beat back their merciless
enemies.

The youth, as he grew older, gradually recovered from his grief, but
the blow was so terrible to the stricken widow that its effect
remained with her through all the years that followed.  The
vivacious, bright-hearted wife became the sad, thoughtful woman, who
rarely smiled, and who walked forever in the shadow of her
desolation.  She had only her boy Jack, and to him she gave the
whole wealth of her attention; but she could never forget the brave
one that had yielded his life for her and her child.

Some years later a portion of the settlers became dissatisfied with
their home, peculiarly exposed as it was to attacks from marauding
red men, and determined to cross the Mississippi into that portion
of Louisiana which to-day forms the great State of Missouri.

To many it seemed a strange refuge, for the change, it may be said,
took them still further from civilization; but the reader well
knows that the settlement of no portion of the Union was marked by
such deeds of ferocity as that of the Dark and Bloody Ground, and
the pioneers had good grounds to hope for better things in the
strange land toward which they turned their footsteps.

The lead mines of Missouri attracted notice a early as 1720, and
Saint Genevieve, its oldest town, was founded in 1755.  At the
breaking out of the Revolution, St. Louis contained nearly a
thousand inhabitants, the country at that time belonging to Spain,
and a considerable fur trade was carried on with the Indians.

Among those who crossed the Mississippi was the widow Carleton.  Her
friends believed that if she removed forever from the scene of her
great affliction she might recover; but if she remained she must
soon succumb.  She suffered herself to be persuaded, and went in the
company of those who promised to give her the tenderest attention
and care.

Her decision was not made until the little company, that had spent
weeks in preparation, was on the eve of starting.  It thus became
necessary for Jack to stay behind to look after certain interests of
both, his purpose being to follow in the course of a few weeks.

The long journey westward was made in safety, a thriving settlement
begun, and young Otto Relstaub, the son of a hard-hearted, penurious
German, was sent back over the trail, according to promise, to guide
Jack Carleton, who was impatiently awaiting him.  The next morning
after his arrival the two started westward, all their earthly
effects packed upon the single horse.

They took turns in riding the animal.  Accustomed as they were to
constant activity, they would have enjoyed the journey on foot much
more than on horseback.  At first both walked, but, after their
animal had run away several times, his capture causing much delay,
trouble, and roiling of temper, they concluded that a change would
have to be made if they expected ever to reach their destination.

One afternoon, when Otto was riding considerably in advance of his
friend, he was fired upon by Indians, narrowly escaping with his
life. The incidents immediately following have already been told the
reader.

It was yet early in the evening when Deerfoot the Shawanoe acted
upon the request of Otto, that some more convenient spot should be
selected in which to continue their talk.

Inasmuch as the destination of the boys lay to the westward, it
seemed to Jack Carleton that, the wisest thing to do was to enter
the canoe, and allow the young Shawanoe to paddle them across; but
he held the gifts and skill of the wonderful warrior in such high
estimation that he feared a hint of the kind might not be received
with favor.

Deerfoot led the way through the wood until a depression was
reached, where considerable undergrowth grew.  He came to a stop and
seemed to be looking around in the darkness, which to the others was
impenetrable.

"Let a fire be kindled," said he.

Only a few minutes were needed to gather all the fuel required.  It
was heaped against the trunk of a tree, and as each carried a flint
and steel, a bright roaring blaze was soon under way.

Had Jack and Otto been alone, they would have been troubled by the
fear that their campfire would be seen by prowling enemies but the
air of unconcern on the part of the Shawanoe infused into them a
feeling of confidence which drove away all fear.

Enough branches and leaves were piled together to afford them the
best sort of couch.  Not one had it blanket with him, and had the
weather been cold, they must have suffered not a little.  The boys
had lost theirs when their horse ran away the last time, and
Deerfoot had not brought any with him, though one remained in his
canoe.

Fortunately the night was not only mild, but scarcely a breath of
air was stirring.  The fire radiated all the heat needed to make
each comfortable.  They assumed easy postures on the ground, and, as
the reflection lit up each countenance, they looked curiously at one
another, as if seeking more intimate knowledge of their appearance.

Deerfoot and Jack have already been sufficiently referred to, and a
little attention is due to the honest German youth, who has his part
to play in the following pages.

Otto was about a year younger than his friend, and bore very little
resemblance to him.  Jack possessed a certain rugged grace, and,
while he was not handsome, his face showed intelligence with mental
strength, sustained by bounding youth, and a physical vigor which
was perfect.

Otto was a head shorter than Jack, and his growth seemed to run
mostly to breadth.  His short legs bowed outward at the knees, and a
curve seemed necessary in order to preserve the harmony of general
expanse.

His face was very wide, the small twinkling eyes fax apart, and the
funny pug nose inclined in the same direction.  His neck was short,
and hair long and thick.  His dress was similar to that worn by Jack
Carleton, except that everything, even to the shoes, were of the
coarsest possible nature.

Jacob Relstaub, the father of Otto, was not merely penurious, but he
was miserly and mean.  Jack Carleton knew him so well that he was
certain there would be serious trouble with the lad if he showed
himself in the little frontier town without the valuable horse which
had run away and swam the river.

There was one respect in which the dress of the German differed from
that of the American.  Instead of wearing a cap, he was furnished
with a hat something similar to those seen in some portions of the
Tyrol.  It had a brim of moderate width, and the crown gradually
tapered until it attained a height of six inches, where it ended in
it point.  The thrifty mother possessed a secret of imparting a
stiffness to the head gear which caused it to keep its shape, except
when limp from moisture.

Such youths as Otto and Jack are always blessed with the most
vigorous appetites, but they had eaten during the afternoon and were
well content to wait until the morrow.  As for Deerfoot, it made
little difference to him whether he had partaken since the rising of
the sun, for he had been taught from his infancy to hold every
propensity of his nature in the sternest check.  Oft-times he went
hungry for no other purpose than that of self-discipline.

"How was it you came to meet Otto?" asked Jack of the dusky youth,
who, assuming an easy position on the ground, was examining his bow.
He looked up, smiled faintly, and hesitated a moment before
answering.

"Two suns ago Deerfoot came upon a log cabin.  It was raining and
cold, and he was a long ways from home.  He saw the glimmer of a
light and reached for the latch-string, but it was pulled in.  He
knocked on the door and it was opened by the man who lived there.
Deerfoot asked that he might stay till morning, but the pale face
called him an Indian dog, and said that if he did not hasten away he
would shoot him--"

"Don't you know who dot vos?" interrupted Otto, whose face seemed to
grow wider with its immense grin.

"How should I know." asked Jack, in turn.

"Dot was mine fader.  I dinks yon vosn't such a fool dot you
wouldn't know dot right away."

"I knew that he was the stingiest man in Kentucky, but I didn't
suppose you spelled his name 'h-o-g."'

"Dot's just de way to spell it," said Otto, slapping his friend on
the shoulder and laughing as though pleased beyond measure.  "Wait
till you don't know him as well as I don't."

"Deerfoot turned to walk away," continued the young Shawanoe; "he
had slept many times in the wood, and he was not afraid, but he had
not taken many steps when some one called him.  It was too dark to
see, but the voice was of a boy.  While Deerfoot waited he threw a
heavy, blanket over his shoulders and made Deerfoot walk back to the
cabin.  He asked him to enter the window where the father could not
see him, and he told Deerfoot he would place him in his bed and he
should have food."

The narrator paused in his story and glanced toward Otto Relstaub.
Jack, with a laugh, looked at the stubby youngster, who was blushing
deeply and holding one hand over his face, the fingers spread so far
apart that he could see the others.  Otto was also smiling, and his
hand could not begin to hide it, so that each side of his mouth wits
in sight.

"Deerfoot was too proud to receive the offer of the boy, but he took
the blanket."

"And mine gracious!" struck in the lad again; "didn't mine fader
whip me for dat?  He proke up three hickory sticks onto me and kept
me dancing out of de cabin and in again, and over the roof, till I
vos so disgusted as nefer vos."

"How did you explain the absence of the blanket?" asked Jack.

"I told mine fader I didn't know not any nodings apout it, and he
whipped me 'cause I didn't know vot I did know, and, when Deerfoot
brought pack de blanket next day, den he knows dat I lied and he
whipped some more as nefer pefore."

Jack Carleton threw back his bead and laughed, though he took care
that he made little noise in doing so; but the face of the Shawanoe
was grave.  His refined nature could see nothing mirthful in the
cruel punishment inflicted upon the boy because he did a kindness to
a stranger of another race.  The brutal father had only to thank the
Christian restraint of Deerfoot that he was not pierced by an arrow
from his bow for his conduct.

The Shawanoe did not need explain that the little act of Otto had
secured his lasting gratitude.  The latter was not one to seek his
company or intrude himself upon him; but he was ready to do the
young German any service in his power.

A few days before, when Deerfoot was returning from the direction of
the Mississippi, he met Otto on horseback.  The latter told him he
was going to Coatesville to bring back a young friend, whose mother
was in the new settlement.  For some reason, which the Shawanoe did
not make known, he could not accompany Otto, or he would have done
so; but he gave him full directions and numerous suggestions, every
one of which Otto forgot within the following fifteen minutes.

Deerfoot, however, after making some calculations as to the time the
boys would reach the Mississippi on their return, promised to meet
them there and to take them across in his canoe, which was hidden
not far away.

The Shawanoe particularly instructed Otto that, if the meeting
should take place at night, he would make known his departure from
the Louisiana side by swinging a torch in a circular manner.  It was
this signal which recalled the agreement to the mind of Otto
Relstaub, who remembered much more than he would have Jack Carleton
believe.




CHAPTER VI

NIGHT AND MORNING


Deerfoot made known his purpose to take his friends across the
Mississippi on the morrow in his canoe, after which he would keep
them company for some distance along the trail, though he would be
forced to leave them long before reaching their destination.

Jack Carleton naturally felt a deep interest in the youthful
warrior, and expected him to give some facts in his wonderful
history, as well as an intimation of what his life was likely to be
in the new country to which he had removed, but much to the young
Kentuckian's disappointment, he carefully avoided all reference to
himself.  His conversation being of such a nature that it is hardly
worth recording in this place.

When the evening was well along, Otto threw more wood on the flames
which crackled and gave out a cheerful glow.  Deerfoot rose to his
feet, and without a word passed out into the gloom.  The hour for
retiring was close at hand, and he preferred to make a
reconnaissance before trusting themselves to slumber.

He returned as noiselessly as he went, remarking as he resumed his
seat that no danger whatever threatened them, and they could slumber
in peace.  While speaking, he drew from a pocket within the skirt of
his bunting-shirt, the little Bible which had been presented to him
months before by Mrs. Preston of Wild Oaks, after the other volume
was destroyed by the bullet that was aimed at the heart of the
youth, by the hostile chieftain.

Adjusting himself in an easy posture on the ground, so that the
ruddy fire-light came over his shoulders and fell upon the page with
its minute letters, the young Shawanoe read for several minutes to
himself.  The others held their peace, impressed with the singular
sight.  Neither could doubt that he clearly comprehended every word
of the sublime volume, and they felt that it was wrong to break in
upon his meditation.

All at once he raised his head and asked, "Would my brothers wish to
hear Deerfoot read?"

"We would, indeed," was the reply of Jack Carleton; "I never saw an
Indian who could read from a, printed book, but I have been told
that you can write an excellent hand."

Deerfoot shook his head disparagingly.

"My brother mistakes, but Deerfoot will try and read the words which
the Great Spirit speaks to all his people, whether they are pale
faces or red men."

And then, in a low musical voice, tremulous with emotion and
impressive beyond description, the Shawanoe read an entire chapter
from the book of Revelations, his favorite portion of the blessed
Book, the others listening spellbound.  Even Otto Relstaub, who saw
and heard little of genuine Christian teachings in his cheerless
home, was touched as never before by the indescribably solemn story
of the apocalyptic vision.

The silence which succeeded lasted several minutes, when Jack said
in a low voice:

"Deerfoot, I wish you would speak some sentences from the Bible in
your own tongue."

"Does my brother wish to learn the Shawanoe language?"

"I have heard Shawanoes, Hurons and Miamis talk, but I can't
understand a word; I have a curiosity to know how it will sound to
hear some parts of the Bible with which I am familiar tittered in an
unknown tongue."

"What part of the book can my brother repeat without reading the
words?"

"Well--that is--I don't know," replied Jack, confused by the
question of Deerfoot, who fixed his eyes inquiringly upon him; "I
mean any sentence."

"Does my brother not read the Bible every day?" asked the Indian, in
a grieved rather than a reproving voice; "he must know the Lord's
Prayer--"

"O yes, yes," replied Jack, desperately clutching at the single
straw.  "I meant to ask you to repeat that."

In the same low, reverent voice he had used while reading, the
warrior uttered the inspired petition, which shall last through all
time.  When he had finished, he said:

"My brother would like to remember the words as Deerfoot has spoken
them; Deerfoot will print them for him."

And drawing a species of red chalk from the same pocket which held
the Bible, he wrote for several minutes on one of the fly-leaves of
the bock.  When he had finished he glanced over the words, carefully
tore out the leaf and handed it across to Jack.

The latter examined the paper, and saw written in a fine, delicate
hand the following words, which are preserved to this day, and
which, when properly pronounced, constitute the Lord's Prayer as it
has been uttered many a time by the dusky lips of the Shawanoe
warrior, when his fiery nature was subdued by its blessed teachings:

"Coe-thin-a, spim-i-key yea-taw-yan-ee, O wes-sa-yeg
yey-sey-tho-yan-ae; Day-pale-i-tum-any-pay-itch tha-key,
yea-issi-tay-hay-yon-ae, issi-nock-i-key, yoe-ma assis-key-kie
pie-sey spin-I-key.  Me-li-na-key oe noo-ki cos-si-kie ta-wa-it-ihin
oe yea-wap-a-ki tuck-whan-a; puck-i-tum-I-wa-loo
kne-won-ot-i-they-way.  Yea-se-puck-I-tum-a-ma-chil-i-tow-e-ta
thick-i na-chaw-ki tussy-neigh-puck-sin-a wa-pun-si-loo wau po
won-ot-i-they ya key-la tay pale-i-tum-any way wis-sa kie
was-si-sut-i-we-way thay-pay-wo-way."

Jack studied the singular words several minutes, and then, with some
hesitation, undertook to pronounce them.  He did only fairly, even
when corrected by Deerfoot, who added the rebuke:

"Let my brother say them over many times in his own language, for
the Great Spirit knows all tongues when he who speaks the words
speaks them with his heart."

The consciousness that these words were uttered by one who belonged
to what is generally regarded its a pagan race, brought a blush to
the face of the sturdy youth that had listened to the same appeal
more than once from the lips of his mother.

Under the assurance of Deerfoot, the boys stretched themselves on
the leaves and branches and soon sunk into a refreshing slumber.
Jack recalled that his last remembrance was of Deerfoot resting his
head on his elbow, while he seemed absorbed in his book.  He lay as
motionless as a figure in bronze, but no matter how much he might be
enchained by the words, he could not be insensible of what was going
on around him.

Both Jack and Otto slept until the light of morning was stealing
through the woods.  Then, when they arose to their feet, they saw
the Shawanoe broiling a couple of whitefish which he had managed to
coax from the Mississippi.  He had almost finished before his
friends suspected what was doing.

After greeting the warrior, the others passed through the woods to
the margin of the mighty river, where they bathed their faces and
hands, took a slight swallow of the somewhat muddy water and then
rejoined Deerfoot, who had their breakfast ready.

"Did my brothers see any signs that frightened them?" asked
Deerfoot, when the three had seated themselves on the ground and
were partaking of their meal.

"I took the best survey I could of the river," replied Jack, "but
saw nothing of friend or foe.  I don't suppose, as a rule, there are
many Indians in this section."

"The Shawanoes often hunt to the river, but do not cross; the Miamis
come down from the north, and Deerfoot sees their footprints in the
Woods."

"What tribes are we likely to meet on the other side of the
Mississippi?" asked the young Kentuckian, who naturally felt much
interest in the land wherein he expected to make his home.

"There are many red men, even to the mountains which stretch far
beyond the rivers and prairies, and raise their heads among the
clouds."

Jack Carleton was surprised at this reference, which, he believed,
was to the Rocky Mountains, of which little more than their simple
existence was known to the rest of the Union at that day.  But the
words which followed astonished him still more:

"Beyond the mountains opens the great sea, wider than that which the
pale faces came across from the Old World; beyond that great sea
lies the land where He died for you and me; all the way to the
shore, of the great water you will find the red men; they are like
the leaves in the woods, and Deerfoot and his friends will die
without ever hearing their names."

"But you have spent some time on the other side the Mississippi, and
must know something of your race there."

"Deerfoot has seen the Osages hunting among the mountains and in the
forest; has seen the Miamis, and, to the northward, may be met the
Sacs and Foxes.  Far toward the ice of the North is the land of the
Assiniboine and the Dacotah."

"I should like to know where you gathered all that information?"
remarked the amazed Jack Carleton; "the country beyond the
Mississippi is greater than that on this side, and one of these days
it will overflow with population, then what a country ours will be!"
exclaimed the young patriot, with kindling eye.  "But you and I,
Deerfoot, can never live to see that time, which is for those that
come after us."

"Yaw," said Otto, seeming to feel it his duty to say something;
"dere is enough land over dere, I 'spose, for that horse to hide a
week before I don't catch him."

Jack intimated that he was likely to find his search extended beyond
that time, while Deerfoot smiled over the simplicity of the lad,
whose information was so small compared with his opportunities.

Conversing in this pleasant manner, the meal was soon finished, and
they made ready to cross the river.

When the three emerged from the woods they were close to the swiftly
flowing current.  Jack and Otto paused, while Deerfoot walked the
few rods necessary to find the canoe that had been drawn up the
bank.

Both the boys could swim the Mississippi if necessary, though, with
their rifles and clothing to take care of, it was anything but a
light task.  Had they been without any boat at command, they would
have divested themselves of their garments and placed them and their
"luggage" on it small float, while they swam behind and pushed it
forward.

When the emigrants moved westward they halted long enough on the
bank to construct a raft, sufficient to carry everything in the
course of several trips back and forth.  Otto made preparation when
he reached the river some days before on horseback, and, forcing the
animal into the current, slipped back, grasped his tail and allowed
himself to be towed across.  He might have done the same on the
preceding day had he been given a few minutes in which to make
preparation, and had he not been unwilling to leave his friend
behind.

"But it will beat all that," remarked Jack Carleton, after they had
discussed the different plans, "to be paddled over in the canoe of
Deerfoot."

"Yaw, but I dinks dot we should go across last, night."

"What would we have gained by that?"

"Then we wouldn't have to go ober agin dis mornings."

"True, but there is no haste called for; if it was not that I am so
anxious to see mother, I would as lief spend a week on the road."

"Dot wouldn't do for me, for mine fader would be looking for me wid
two big gads to him--"

"Helloa!  Here comes Deerfoot.  What can be the matter?  He is
excited over something."

Such was the fact, indeed, for the sagacious Shawanoe had made an
annoying if not alarming discovery.




CHAPTER VII

A SURPRISED FISHERMAN


It may be said that Deerfoot the Shawanoe never lost his senses
excepting when slumber stole them away.  Young as he was, he had
been through some of the most terrific encounters the mind can
conceive, and yet, when he stood erect in the full glare of the
noonday sun, not a scratch or scar spoke of those fearful affrays in
the depth of the forest, among the hills and mountains and along the
Shores of the rivers of Kentucky and Ohio.

I have said that he was so hated by his own people that he felt his
presence near the settlements to the eastward was more to the
disadvantage than the help of his friends, and that was one of the
causes which led him to bid adieu forever to his friends.

It has been intimated also that still another reason actuated him,
and that reason shall appear in due time.

When Deerfoot assured Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub that they
might slumber in peace, he spoke the truth; it has been shown that
not the first breath of danger touched them during the darkness, and
the morning meal was partaken in the same enjoyable fashion.

But before the subtle young Shawanoe reached the spot where he left
his canoe, he was disturbed by discovering the imprint of moccasins
along shore.  They led away from his friends and toward the canoe.
A few minutes showed the latter had "received" some visitors since
its owner left it.

It was utterly destroyed.  The knives and tomahawks of several,
warriors had hacked be bark structure to pieces.  Even the paddle
had been broken into a half dozen parts.  Nothing was left of which
use could be made, the blanket of the owner of course being absent.

Deerfoot looked on the wreck with something like dismay, which
speedily turned to anger.  The wantonness of the act roiled his
feelings and stirred up the "old Indian" in his nature.

He surveyed the destruction for a minute or two, and then made a
careful examination of the signs the perpetrators could not avoid
leaving behind them.

There had been three Indiana engaged in the mischief, and the first
supposition of Deerfoot was that they were the Shawanoes whom Jack
Carleton saw the day previous; but a few minutes' study of the
footprints betrayed a certain peculiarity (a slight turning outward
of the left foot so slight, indeed, as almost to be imperceptible),
which identified them as Miamis.  Deerfoot had noticed the "sign
manual" years before, so there was no room for mistake on his part.

The party had come down from the northward, most likely with other
warriors, and had stumbled by mere chance upon the partially hidden
canoe.  They probably investigated matters enough to learn that it
was in charge of two white persons and one red one--enough to
satisfy them that the single Indian was friendly to the settlers,
and therefore one to be despised and harried in every way possible.

It was that discovery which undoubtedly caused them to destroy the
property and steal the blanket.  They were not enough interested to
seek the lives of the others, though it may be they were restrained
by fear from doing so.

When Deerfoot came back to the boys, he purposely displayed some
excitement in order to amuse them.  He quickly explained what he had
learned, and then, in the most indifferent voice and manner, said
"The Miamis shall pay Deerfoot for his canoe."

"How will you make them do that?" asked Jack, who noticed the
peculiar sparkle which the friends of the warrior always observed
when his feelings were stirred.

"I doesn't not believes dot you and dem cannot agrees mit de price,"
said Otto; "derefore you sends for me and I tells you what de price
ain't, and if dey don't agrees, den I knocks 'em ober de head--don't
it?"

"Deerfoot will not need his brother," said the Indian, gravely; "but
he asks his brothers to wait till he comes back."

"We'll do that," said Jack; "that is, as long as there is a prospect
of your return.  When shall we expect you?"

"Deerfoot will be with his brothers before the sun reaches yonder."

He pointed to the place in the sky which the orb would touch about
the middle of the afternoon.  Then, warning the two to be very
careful, and to keep continual watch against detection, he moved
away, vanishing from sight in the woods behind them, instead of
keeping close to the shore.

He wept to the southward until he once more reached the spot which
contained the remains of his canoe.  He spent another minute in
grimly surveying the ruins, and then, glancing down at the
footprints, followed their direction.  He had determined to call the
scamps to account for the injury done him.

As they belonged to the Miami tribe, it was quite likely they had a
boat with them, though their hunting-grounds were east of the
Mississippi, and possibly they had other property upon which the
offended Shawanoe meant to levy.

He followed the trail for nearly a furlong, when it divided; two of
the warriors turned to the left and went deeper into the woods,
while the third continued down stream in the same general direction
as before.

The sagacious Shawanoe suspected the truth; the single Indian had
gone to look after a canoe or something which lay close to the
river, while the others were about to engage in a hunt of so kind.
The discovery pleased Deerfoot; for, beside indicating that there
was a boat for him to take it showed that he had but a single red
man to meet.

Within less than a hundred yards this solitary warrior was found.  A
large canoe, evidently belonging to the three warriors, or possibly
a larger party, lay against the bank, with one end on the land,
while the other projected several yards into the river.  In the
stern sat an Indian, after the fashion of a civilized man; he was
astride of the end, his moccasins banging over, one on either side,
his back toward shore, while he leaned forward and sleepily watched
a fish-line, one end of which rested in his hand, while the other
was far out in the Mississippi.

His attitude was as lazy and contented as though he were a white
man.  It looked as if he had chosen the sport while his companions
were off on a hunt that required more effort and exertion.

Deerfoot stood only a few seconds, when he smiled more fully than he
had done for along time.  He saw his opportunity, and he proceeded
straightway to "improve" it.

He stole forward, as quietly as a shadow, until he had gone the few
yards intervening.  All that he feared was that the aboriginal
fisherman might obtain a bite before the boat was reached.  If he
could catch a fish on his bone hook, he would be likely to fling him
into the canoe behind him and to turn himself around.

From the moment Deerfoot placed eyes on the motionless figure, he
felt he was master of the situation; but, with his usual quickness,
he had formed his plan and was desirous of carrying it out in spirit
and in letter.

Reaching the canoe, he laid his long bow on the ground beside it;
then, stooping over, he seized the gunwale with both hands and,
quickly as the blow of a panther, he jerked the craft slightly more
than a foot further up the bank.

The result was inevitable.  The astonished Miami sprawled forward
from his seat and went down into the muddy Mississippi out of sight,
doubtless frightening away the fish that was nibbling at his bait.

"Hooh!" he groaned, ejecting the water from his mouth as he came to
view, and following it with an expression much in the nature of an
expletive.

Only a couple of strokes were needed to bring him into the shallow
water, when he rose to his feet and walked out upon dry land.  Up to
that moment he did not know the cause of his mishap, for the author
stooped down on the upper side of the craft; but as the Miami
stepped out, Deerfoot rose to his full height, with his keen
tomahawk grasped in his left hand--that being his best one.

The dripping warrior, to put it mildly, was astonished, when he
found himself confronted by the stranger.  He stood staring and
speechless, while the mouth of Deerfoot again expanded.

"Does my brother's heart grow weary that he seeks to urge the fish
to bite his hook before they are ready?" asked the Shawanoe in the
Miami tongue.

It was all clear to the victim, and, when he understood the trick
that had been played upon him, his anger showed through the paint
daubed on his face.

"The Shawanoe is a fool," he replied.  "His heart is filled with joy
when he acts like a papoose."

"But he will now act like a warrior," said Deerfoot, in a sterner
manner.  "The dogs of the Miamis broke the canoe of the Shawanoe and
stole his blanket."

"The Shawanoe is the friend of the white man," said the other with a
sneer, though not without some misgiving, for, to use the language
of the West, the young warrior "had the drop on him."  He had only
to make one movement in order to drive the glittering weapon through
the skull of the Miami, as though it were mere card-board.

It must be confessed that he looked very much as if such was his
intention.

"Deerfoot is the friend of the white man," repeated the Shawanoe;
"he hoped to paddle them across the great river.  The Miami dogs
have broken his canoe, so Deerfoot will take their boat."

The warrior showed that he was astounded by the daring of the youth.
Within the canoe lay the blanket of Deerfoot, beside the rifle;
powder-horn, and bullet pouch, doubtless owned by the moist
fisherman.  The latter looked at his property as if he could not
believe any one would dare molest that; but Deerfoot settled the
question in his terse fashion.

"Let the dog of a Miami seat himself on the ground like a squaw, and
watch his Shawanoe master while he takes the canoe and all that it
holds."

The Miami stared at his conqueror as if uncertain whether he had
heard aright.  The conqueror enlightened him.

"The dog of a Miami longs to go to the happy hunting-grounds of his
fathers."

As he uttered the words, he quickly feinted with the hand grasping
the tomahawk.  The warrior made such a sudden start to obey that his
moccasins slipped on the wetter earth, his feet spread apart, as
though he were learning to skate, and he sat down with such a sudden
bump that it forced a grunt from him.  He hastily scrambled up, and,
with a frightened glance over his shoulder, sprang forward and sat
down again, though the last time was according to instructions.

It required all the self-restraint of Deerfoot to suppress his mirth
over the ridiculous performance of his captive, if such he may be
called.  When, the Miami seated himself with a grotesque effort at
dignity, the Shawanoe placed his bow in the front of the canoe and
then shoved the boat into the stream.

As it shot from the shore, he leaped in, and caught up one of the
long three paddles with which it was navigated.  Dipping it beneath
the surface he made one prodigious sweep, which drove the craft
swiftly ahead.

While thus employed the Miami faithfully obeyed orders.  He sat
immobile and silent, watching the daring young warrior making off
not only with his private property, but with that which belonged to
others.

The Miami must have thought to himself more than once--"Ah, if my
comrades would only appear at this moment!  They would make you
change your tune very soon."

All at once the warrior uttered a whoop which plainly was meant as a
signal to his friends.  Instantly Deerfoot laid down his paddle,
and, catching up the gun, pointed it at the redskin.  The latter, in
the extremity of his terror, turned a somersault backwards, and
tumbled and scrambled into the woods, desperately striving to get
beyond sight of the terrible youth who showed such recklessness in
handling weapons.

No doubt the Miami believed his escape was a narrow one, when, the
next instant, the rifle was discharged and the bullet cut through
the leaves near his face.

And so, in truth, his escape was very narrow, but it was just as
narrow as Deerfoot chose to make it.  He had not the remotest
intention of injuring the Miami.




CHAPTER VIII

BEHIND THE TREE


The report of the gun reached the ears of Otto and Jack, and
naturally caused them alarm.  They hurriedly made their way to the
edge of the river and peered out from cover, not forgetting the
warnings previously given by Deerfoot.

They had but to look a short distance down stream to see the
Shawanoe paddling the large Indian canoe toward the other shore.

"Well, dere!" exclaimed Otto.  "Deerfoot dinks as how I ain'ty
forgotful, but don't he forget more than I does, when he dinks he
has us in the canoe and we be here?"

"There is no danger of that," said Jack; "he knows it would not do
for him to come after us, for the Indians would shoot him from this
side."'

"Why would dey do dem things?"

"Because it is the nature of Indians to revenge themselves that way.
Don't you see he has taken their canoe, and I shouldn't wonder if
he killed one or two of their warriors before he was able to get
off with it.  That shot which we heard was probably fired at him."

But in this instance the ears of the German proved more correct than
those of the American.  He had noticed that the gun was discharged
from the river, establishing the fact that it was fired by Deerfoot,
though Jack Carleton could not understand the reason why it was
done.

It was manifest that the Shawanoe meant to cross to the other side
the Mississippi, in order to throw the Miamis "off the trail "--that
is, he would keep out of their sight until he gained a chance to
return for his friends.

It occurred at once to the young Kentuckian that such being the
case, the situation of himself and Otto was one of considerable
danger.

The high-handed course of the Shawanoe would rouse the enmity of the
Miamis to the highest point.  Revenge is one of the most marked
characteristics of the American Indian, who is eager to retaliate
upon the innocent when he cannot reach the guilty.  The three who
had suffered the indignity could easily follow the trail of the
boys, wheresoever it might lead, excepting through water.  What,
therefore, was more likely than that they would seek to adjust
matters by slaying those who had taken no hand in the capture of the
canoe?

Jack knew that there were only three Miamis directly concerned, but
Deerfoot had spoken of others in the neighborhood, beside which the
young Kentuckian himself had seen a couple of Shawanoes, only a few
hours before, at no great distance from that very spot.

When he made known his fears to Otto, the latter agreed they were in
great peril, and the utmost care was necessary to keep clear of the
red men.

The precise course best to adopt was hard to determine, but they
began a guarded departure from the spot, stepping as carefully and
lightly as possible.

Though Otto Relstaub, like his, parents, had never been able to
handle the English language intelligently, and though he was
afflicted with a forgetfulness all too common with most boys of his
age, yet his life on the frontier had not been without its lessons
to him.  At times he showed a shrewdness and knowledge of woodcraft
which surprised Jack Carleton, who often became impatient with his
shortsightedness.  The manner in which he seconded the efforts of
his companion to mislead the Indians, known to be close at hand,
certainly was deserving of high praise.

The friends advanced some twenty rods or more, Otto keeping close
behind Jack, without seeing or hearing anything of their enemies.
Looking across the Mississippi, nothing was observed of Deerfoot or
his canoe, so that no help was to be expected for many hours from
him.  Indeed, Jack was confident that nothing of the kind could be
done before night, when the matchless Shawanoe would have the
darkness to help him.  To the young Kentuckian, the advent of
Deerfoot was of that nature that he failed to see that it had
accomplished any good.  If he and Otto could gain a suitable start,
they would swim across.

"Sh!" whispered the German, reaching forward and catching the arm of
his friend; "waits one, two, dree smond."

"What is the matter?" asked the alarmed Jack, as he turned hastily
about.

"Let you go dot way and me go dot way, and it leetle ways off we
comes togedder agin once more."

Rather curiously, the leader was asking himself at that moment
whether something could not be gained by him and Otto separating and
afterward meeting at some point further up stream.

Such, as is well known, is the practice of the Apaches when hotly
pursued to their mountain fastnesses.  A large company will dissolve
into its "original elements," as may be said, rendering pursuit out
of the question.

The wisdom of this course on the part of Jack and Otto might well be
questioned, but, without giving the matter any thought, the young
Kentuckian acted upon the suggestion.

"You keep close to the river," he said, "while I turn to the right,
and will come back to the shore a few hundred yards above.  We'll
use our old signal if we have anything to say to each other."

Otto nodded his bead to signify that he understood the arrangement,
and, without another word, the two diverged, speedily losing sight
of each other in the wood, which showed more under growth than that
through which they passed the day before.

"I declare," said Jack to himself, before he had gone far, "I much
misgive myself whether this is going to help matters; it must be a
good deal easier for the Indians to pick up one of us at a time,
than it is to take the two together.  It may be best after all," he
added a minute later, with the natural hopefulness of his nature,
"for I learned long ago that if two or three hunters separate while
in the Indian country, they can take better care of themselves than
if they stay together."

He stood still and looked and listened.  The wood, as has been said,
was denser than that to which he had been accustomed, and, when he
used his eyes to the utmost, he saw nothing to cause alarm.  The
lynx-eyed Miamis could follow his trail with little trouble, no
matter how much be sought to conceal it, and the fact that he saw
and heard nothing could be no proof that danger itself was not near.

"I am sure those were Shawanoes that I saw yesterday," he muttered,
"and yet Deerfoot insists they were Miamis who broke up his canoe.
Wonder whether there's a war party of both--"

The bright eyes of the youth at that very moment told him a singular
fact: only a short distance in front of him stood two red men in
their war paint.  They were talking together and had their backs
toward him.  Indeed, they were so motionless, that he had failed to
see them in the first place, and would have failed again but for the
low, guttural murmur of their voices.

Jack instantly stepped behind the large trunk of a tree and peered
out with an interest that may well be understood.  It was curious
that the youth should have approached so close without detection,
but it was complimentary to his woodcraft that such was the fact.

Whatever the subject of conversation between the Indians, they
speedily became absorbed in it, their arms sawed the air, and their
voices rose to it pitch that carried the sound far beyond where he
stood.

Their interest in the discussion frequently brought the profile of
the further one into view and showed so much of his front, that his
tribal character was settled beyond question; he was a Shawanoe, one
of the dreaded people who did more than any other to earn the name
of Dark and Bloody Ground for one section of the Union.

It was established, therefore, that there were two distinct parties
in that particular section.  The Miamis and Shawanoes were natural
allies, and there could be no question that a perfect understanding
existed between those who gave our friends so much concern.

Jack Carleton was debating with himself whether it would be a safe
undertaking for him to withdraw, and, venturing further into the
woods, seek to flank the warriors who had risen so unexpectedly in
his path.  He had already been so delayed that his agreement with
Otto was likely to be disarranged, and it would not do to stay too
long where he had halted.

Before a conclusion was formed, the interview between the couple
ended.  They abruptly ceased talking, and one started north and the
other south.

As they did so Jack learned another significant fact--they belonged
to different tribes.  The one who went northward looked squarely in
the face of his friend, just before moving out, and, in doing so,
gave the best view of his countenance that the boy had yet obtained.
That view revealed him as a Miami beyond all question.

The other wheeled about and advanced almost in a direct line toward
Jack, who felt that his situation was becoming very delicate and
peculiar.  There could be no mistaking the tribe of that warrior,
who was a splendid' specimen of physical vigor and manhood.  Jack
suspected that he was not only a Shawanoe, but was a chief or
leader.  The hideous paint which was smeared over his repulsive
face, was more elaborate than in the case of the two from whom the
youth effected such a narrow escape.

That which Jack saw confirmed his belief of a perfect understanding
between the different parties.  They probably numbered a dozen
altogether, and had determined to bring the friendly Indian and two
white men to account for the outrage of the young Shawanoe--for,
brief as was the time mince it had been perpetrated, it was more
than probable that it was known to all.

"I wish that heathen would take it into his head to move some other
way," thought Jack to himself, as he drew his head back, fearful of
being seen.  "If he comes straight on, he'll bump his forehead
against this tree, and, if he turns out, he will pass so close to
the trunk that I've got to be lively if he doesn't run against me."

Listening intently, he was able to hear the soft footfall of the
warrior upon the leaves, scarcely louder than the faint tipping of
the claw of a small bird.  Had the Shawanoe suspected there was the
slightest need for care, his tread would have been silent.

A few seconds passed when the delicate sound ceased.  What could it
mean?  Did the Indian suspect the truth?  Was he standing
motionless, or was he advancing with that noiseless step which the
ear of the listening Indian himself fails to note?

These were the questions which the young Kentuckian asked, and which
for the time he could not answer.  He shrank close to the bark of
the tree, with his gun clasped and the hammer raised ready to fire
at an instant's notice.   Knowing so well the subtlety of the red
men, it occurred to Jack that his foe perhaps was stealthily
flanking him.  He was moving to one side and the moment he could
gain a shot he would fire.

The suspense became more trying than disaster itself could be, and
Jack determined to end it by learning the precise situation of the
Shawanoe, and what he was likely to attempt to do in the way of
hostilities.




CHAPTER IX

A TIMELY ARRIVAL


One of the most convincing evidences of a Power beyond our
comprehension, governing and directing everything for the best, is
the marvelous degree to which the different faculties of our nature
can be trained.  There is a skill which cannot be explained or
understood by him who attains it; and, interwoven through the five
senses which science assigns to us, seems to be a sixth not yet
understood, of whose wonderful functions every one of us has seen
proof.

The Shawanoe warrior, after parting with his companion, walked
leisurely toward the tree behind which the young Kentuckian was
hiding, until about twenty yards separated them.  Then he stopped as
abruptly as if stricken by a thunderbolt.  There was "something in
the air" which whispered danger.

The Indian had neither seen nor heard anything to cause this
misgiving, but he knew that peril confronted him.  What he would
have done in the event of Jack Carleton remaining silent and
stationary behind the trunk can only be conjectured; but the
impatience of the youth ended that phase of the situation.

Softly removing his cap, the young Kentuckian slowly moved the side
of his head to the right.  In doing so, he kept his face in a
perpendicular position, so that the least possible part of his head
was exposed.  Had he inclined it, the upper portion would have shown
before the eye could have been brought into use.

The first object on which Jack's vision rested was the Shawanoe
warrior, standing erect, one foot slightly advanced and both hands
grasping the rifle in front of him.  The face was daubed and
streaked with paint, and the gleaming black eyes were looking
straight at the startled youth.

Like a flash the dusky arms brought the gun to his shoulder, and it
is safe to say that Jack Carleton never in all his life drew back
his head with such celerity.

Quick as was the Indian, he was not quick enough to catch the lad,
who, it will be seen, had very little to do in order to save himself
for the moment.  With a faint whoop, the redskin bounded behind the
nearest tree, and, with his cocked rifle at command, awaited an
opening that would allow him to slay his foe.

Thus the two occupied precisely the same, relative position; each
was protected by a trunk of a tree large enough to shield his body,
and each grasped a loaded and cocked rifle, eager to use it the
instant the opportunity presented itself.

Who was to win in this curious contest?  Looking at the situation
dispassionately, it must be admitted that the chances favored the
Indian.  He was older, stronger, more active, and possessed greater
cunning than did the youth.  What, after all, is one of the most
important factors in such a problem, the American race possess by
training, and nature--patience scarcely second to that of the
Esquimau.  The probabilities were that the Shawanoe would wait until
the youth was led into some fatal indiscretion.

All this, be it remembered, is based on the condition that no such
thing as "foreign interference" took place.

Is there any reader of mine who has not been entertained in his
early youth by the story of the white man and the Indian, who, being
placed in the situation of Jack and the Shawanoe, remained in hiding
from each other, until the Caucasian drew the shot of the American,
by placing his cap on the end of the ramrod or gun and projecting it
far enough from behind the tree, thus leading the Indian to believe
that the head of his foe was in range?  If such an incident ever
took place, the warrior must have been unusually stupid to leap from
cover, as the story makes him do, until certain he had brought the
other down.

Jack Carleton attempted the same artifice, except that, instead of
taking the trouble to draw his ramrod or using his rifle for that
purpose, he held his cap in hand, shoving it forward very slowly and
with great care.

The trick failed.  The Shawanoe must have suspected the truth on the
first appearance of the head-gear.  Jack pushed it forward until
sure it was seen, but no demonstration came from the warrior, who,
for aught the youth knew, was essaying the same deception.

Determined to learn something about his enemy, Jack threw his head
to one side and drew it back again before the warrior could pull the
trigger.  He knew precisely where to look, but he was unable to
catch sight of the Shawanoe or his weapon.

"I wonder whether he has shifted his quarters," said Jack to
himself.  "If he has, he will shot at me before I can learn where he
is.  Holloa!"

The second time he thrust forward his face withdrawing it with the
same celerity as before, he caught a passing glimpse of the
Shawanoe, who, rather curiously, adopted exactly the same artifice.
This "located" the savage and relieved Jack, for the moment, of his
terrifying dread that death threatened from an unknown point.

But, within the next minute, the redskin utterance to a faint whoop,
clearly meant as a signal to a comrade not far off.

"He is calling back the Miami, who left him a few minutes ago," was
the conclusion of Jack.  "It'll go rough with me if I have two of
them to fight.  I'll try a little of the signaling myself."

Placing the thumb and forefinger of his left hand against his
tongue, he emitted a low, tremulous whistle, such as he and Otto
used when on hunting expeditions together.  He repeated it, and
then, greatly to his relief, received a reply, though it was so
guarded that he could not guess the point whence it came.

"Now, if Otto proves sharp enough to grasp the situation, without
running into ambush, we may settle the matter with this fellow
before the other can take a hand--"

As on the previous day, something twinkled among the trees to the
left.  A glance in that direction and Jack saw, with dismay, that
the Miami warrior had arrived.

The worst of it, too, was that he appeared so far over from where
the Shawanoe stood that lines connecting the three would have made
almost a right angle.  It looked as if the youth must be exposed to
the enfilading fire of one of his enemies.

It was a frightful situation, but the brave Kentuckian did not lose
heart.  He pressed against the bark as closely as he could,
endeavoring to watch both points, but he was fearfully handicapped,
and there was little hope for him, unless his friend could
interfere.

Suddenly the Miami, who, naturally enough, had taken to the shelter
of a tree, after the manner of his comrade, made a bound of several
feet which placed him behind a second trunk that was still further
to the rear of Jack Carleton.  Another such leap and the youth would
be effectually uncovered.

But the anxiously prayed for deliverance came at this critical
moment.  While the Miami was maneuvering for position, Otto Relstaub
appeared behind him, and, in the twinkling of an eye, the merciless
warrior was placed between two fires.

"You let dot chap alone?" called out the German, with his gun to his
shoulder, "or py gracious I'll shoot my ramrod clean through you as
nefer vos I don't it?"

The unexpected discovery of his mortal peril threw the Miami into a
panic.  It was impossible for him to find shelter at the same moment
from both his enemies, for, on whatever side of the tree he took
refuge, he would be in range of one of them.  With a howl of
consternation, he whirled on his heel and ran like a frightened
deer.  As he did so, he ducked his head and leaped from side to
side, after the manner of the Digger Indians of the present day,
with a view of distracting the fire of his enemies.

It would have been a feat of marksmanship had either lad brought him
down, when so many and varying objects intervened, and neither of
the youths made the attempt.  When the terrified fugitive vanished,
he was without a wound or scratch to tell of the danger from which
he had fled.

During these stirring moments, the Shawanoe had taken no part and
given no sign of interest in what was going on; but Jack, who was
fully aroused by the venomous attempt on his life, called to his
friend, whose position he knew commanded that of the savage:

"Otto, shoot the wretch!"

"Dot is vot I vos going to do," was the reply of the German, who
took careful aim around the side of the tree.

He was in plain view of Jack, who watched him with a rapidly beating
heart, knowing as he did that the fellow carried an excellent gun
and was it good shot.

But, while glancing along the rifle-barrel, with one eye closed,
Otto raised his head, opened both eyes and looked toward the point
at which he had been aiming.  Then his cheery laughter rang out.

"What is the matter?" asked the astonished Jack.

"Now, ain't dot funny?  He Indian ain't dere!"

"Yes, he is," shouted Jack, suspecting trickery.  "He will shoot
you, if you don't bring him down!"

Otto glanced affrightedly behind him, as though he heard a stealthy
footstep, but called back once more that the Shawanoe had
disappeared.

It occurred to the other youth, just then, that if the warrior was
in the vicinity and could be seen by Otto, he must be visible to
him.  But a sweeping survey of the field failed to bring to light
the painted face and feathered crown.

There could be no doubt that the Shawanoe had taken advantage of the
diversion caused by Otto's arrival, and had not stood on the order
of his going.  Five minutes before, there seemed no chance of Jack
Carleton preserving his life.  Now, how changed!  Toward whatever
point of the compass he looked, he saw not the first evidence that
peril threatened.

But for all that, it was uncomfortably nigh, and it was difficult to
find a place in which there was less safety than where they were.
Jack resolved to leave at once.

At the moment he stepped from behind the tree which had sheltered
him, Otto strode toward him, his broad face still broader on account
of his beaming pleasure.

"Dot vos me," he said, triumphantly.  "Otto doned it."

"Did what?"

"Scared 'ern so dot they forgits him nefer."

"You did well, beyond question. I cannot see how I would have saved
myself if you hadn't come as you did.  I shall never forget it,
Otto, though I think it was a mistake when we parted company it
short while ago.  It looks as though these Miamis and Shawanoes are
on all sides of us, and we must find some kind of shelter or make a
hasty change of base."

"Dot's vot I dinks," assented the other.  "I am waiting for you to
show me vot's I doesn't do."

"It is hard to tell what is the best course," said Jack, who, while
talking, was moving slowly toward the Mississippi, watching,
meanwhile, every point of the compass.  "But, somehow or other I
feel there's less danger by the river than anywhere else."

"I likes it dere better than other places, for if we finds the
Indians are going to boder us, we can cheat 'em as easy as nefer
vos."

"How?"

"We can jump in the river and drowns mit, ourselves; won't dey be
fooled!"

"Perhaps they would be disappointed; but I don't see where we are
likely to gain anything."

"I doesn't see hims mineself," grinned Otto, whose whims led him to
be amusing during the most trying moments, as well as grave when
others were light-hearted.

"I only wish we were on the other side," said the young Kentuckian,
who at that moment caught the gleam of the Mississippi through the
trees in front.




CHAPTER X

AT BAY


While Jack and Otto were talking in guarded tones, and carefully
picking their way through the wood, each stopped and became silent
at the same instant.  They saw nothing, but their ears told them
some person or animal was approaching through the undergrowth behind
them.

Within the same minute the creature revealed himself in the form of
a large, black bear, which was lumbering along unmindful that
enemies were near.

"Mebbe he don't be an Indian," whispered Otto, who knew much of the
cunning of the red men.

The same thought had occurred to the Kentuckian, who held his gun at
full cock, until he should be able to learn the truth.  While thus
employed he could not help reflecting on the improbability of such a
clumsy artifice being that time, for there was no call for the
attempt, no prospect of deceiving two persons who displayed such
excellent woodcraft.

Jack speedily saw that the bear was a genuine one, probably on his
way to the river.  There no occasion for shooting him, and the
hunters stepped aside to allow him to pass.  Jack kept eye on him,
however, for it being the spring of year, he had not been long out
of his hibernating quarters, and was likely to be lean, hungry,
fierce.

Bruin caught sight of the hunters, while several rods off, and
throwing up his snout, took a look at them, as though uncertain of
the species to which they belonged.

"He looks pig, don't he?" said Otto, referring to his size, and half
inclined to give him a shot.  "One pullet would make him put up dot
snout down."

"Let him alone, so long as he doesn't disturb us.  He isn't half so
dangerous as the Indians and they would be likely to rush upon us
before you could reload your gun."

Otto saw the prudence of his friend's words, and he not only let
down the hammer of his rifle, but emphasized his intention by
turning his back upon the bear.

The huge beast seemed disposed to attack the boys.  It may be that
the plump, ruddy-faced Gorman looked specially tempting to him while
in his hungry state, for Jack fancied that it was he on whom his
large eyes were fixed with a peculiar lodging.

The bear took several steps toward the couple, and Jack cocked his
gun, believing he would have to fire.  Otto, seeing the movement,
turned, but at that moment the animal, if he had actually any
purpose of opening hostilities, changed his mind, moving off to one
side, and continued his awkward gait toward the river.

The boys watched him until he reached the stream and began lapping
the water, when they resumed their withdrawal from the spot, still
walking in a northerly course along the right bank of the
Mississippi.

Both were anxious to get as far away as they could, in the hope that
they would be able to keep a safe space between themselves and the
red men, whom they held in such fear.

Their uneasiness was not lessened when the sharp crack of a rifle
broke upon their ears, from a point not far down the stream.  It was
followed by another report deeper in the woods, and then several
whoops came from different parts of the forest, all being within a
short radius.

The boys could not guess the cause of the firing, unless they were
meant as signals, but they were sure the cries referred to them.
Most likely, as they viewed it, they were meant to direct the
actions of the parties, who must have felt that it only needed a
little care and energy to capture the youths that, up to that time,
had baffled the enmity of both the Miamis and Shawanoes.

The result was, that Jack and Otto, keeping as near as was prudent
to the river, pushed on as fast as they could.  A species of running
vine close to the ground caused them much annoyance, the more chubby
one falling forward several times on his hands and knees.

They had traveled a short distance only, when the signals that had
so alarmed them were heard again.  The Indiana called to each other
by means of the whoops and shouts, as intelligible to those for whom
they were meant as if they were so many spoken words.

The lads could not fail to observe that they were considerably
nearer than before.  The red men were evidently converging in their
pursuit, and meant to force the struggle to an issue with the least
delay possible.

"We must travel faster," said Jack Carleton, compressing his lips,
after glancing behind him.  "This has settled down to a regular race
between us."

"Dot is so," assented Otto, sprawling forward again on his hands and
knees, from the running vine which caught, like fine wire, around
his ankles.  "If it Vos who falls down the most and cracks his head,
den I would beat dem, don't it?"

"We shall have to make a fight for they can travel a great deal
faster than we--"

"Let's jump mit the river; we gets so far off afore dey learns vot
we don't do."

It seemed to be the only recourse left to the fugitives, and they
turned toward the Mississippi.  But at that very moment Jack caught
sight of a pile of logs only a short distance ahead.

It seemed a direct interference of Providence, totally unexpected by
both.  Whether the logs were the retreat of a friend or enemy could
only be guessed.  The probabilities were that the former was the
case, since the structure was not of the kind made by Indians.

Jack caught the arm of Otto and whirled him back.

"Vot ain't de matter?" asked the German, half angrily at the check,
when there was so much necessity for haste.

"See?" asked Jack, in turn, pointing to the logs as seen through the
trees.

Otto nodded his head.  It was enough, and he made a desperate rush
to reach the refuge, catching his foot and falling headlong again.

"Dunderation!" he exclaimed; "wonder if dere ain't no blamed vines
that I hef not fall over and proke mine nose."

The whoops of the Miamis and Shawanoes sounded still closer; they
were pressing the pursuit with utmost vigor, and were upon the heels
of the fugitives.

The Kentuckian, who continually glanced back, caught sight of more
than one figure flitting among the trees.  Suddenly something red
gleamed; it was the flash of a gun,  and, at the same moment the
sharp report rang out, the bullet passed between Jack and Otto, who
were striving desperately to get beyond reach before a fair aim
could tempt their enemies.

The second view which Jack caught of the shelter told him it was
simply four walls of logs, a dozen feet square, half as high, and
without any roof.  When, why, and by whom they had been put up was a
mystery.

But no oasis in the flaming desert could be more welcome to the
traveler dying with thirst than was this simple structure to the
panting fugitives.  Jack Carleton, with a recklessness caused by the
imminence of his peril, flung his gun over into the enclosure,
sprang upward so as to grasp the topmost log, and scrambled after it
with the headlong impetuosity of a wounded animal.

Otto was only a second or two behind him, and, puffing and gasping,
he dropped squarely on his head and shoulders, rolled over, caught
up his gun again, and sprang to his feet.

"Dot's de way I always climb down stairs," he exclaimed, raising the
hammer of his gun and holding it ready to fire on the first
appearance of a foe.

"It's all well enough, if you ain't hurt, but look out for the red
men; they're right on us."

"Dot's vot I don't dinks," replied Otto, who, still panting from his
exertion, seemed to have recovered his coolness; "if dey climbs up
dot vall, den dey run agin de, pall of mine gun and one of dem gets
hurt, and it ain't de pall-don't it?"

The pursuers were so close to the fugitives that the tramp of their
moccasins was heard at the moment the boys braced themselves for the
shock which they were sure would come within the next few seconds.
The sight of a flying foe intensifies the courage of the pursuer,
and it may have been that the Shawanoe who discharged his gun at the
lads, when they were so close to the shelter, believed he had
wounded one at least, and that a vigorous assault could not fail to
end the struggle speedily.  There may, in fact, have been a dozen
causes which incited him to a bravery and personal effort greater
than that of any of his companions.

"They'll try to overwhelm us," said Jack.  "Hold your gun ready."

The words were yet in his mouth, when a peculiar, soft scratching,
which was ended the instant it began, told that one of the warriors
had inserted the toe of his moccasin in a crevice of the logs, with
the purpose of climbing over into the enclosure.

"I'll attend to him if there's only one," added Jack, naturally
fearful of throwing away a shot.

"I dinks I 'tends him mit myself--"

Suddenly the painted face of a Shawanoe Indian rose to view.  One
hand had grasped the top log, and he was drawing himself rapidly
upward with the purpose of leaping over.  The countenance was
frightful beyond description--the streaks and circles in red,
yellow, and black, from amid which glared the black eyes, with an
expression of ferocity like that of a Bengal tiger, and the white
teeth, gleaming between the parted lips, drawn far back at the
corners, gave a hideous fierceness to the visage that would have
appalled a brave man who saw it for the first time.

"I dinks I 'tends him mit myself--"

Just as Otto Relstaub reached that point in his remark, he pulled
the trigger of his rifle.  A rasping howl followed, and the horrible
face vanished a speedily as if the owner had been standing on a
trap-door, which was sprung.

"Yaw--I dinks I 'tends mit him," repeated Otto, coolly lowering his
gun and looking at the spot where the head and shoulders were
visible an instant before.

"Load up quick!" said Jack, who held his cocked rifle in hand while
his eye glanced hastily along the upper part of the logs, "don't
lose a second."

The thump of the body was heard as the Shawanoe--dead before he
could fall the brief space--struck the ground on the outside.  At
the same moment a second warrior (a Miami that time), drew himself
upward close to the place from which the Shawanoe had dropped.  He
rose until his tufted head, his sloping forehead and his gleaming
eyes appeared just above the horizon of the enclosure.  Staring
downward, he looked straight into the muzzle of a rifle, held by a
young Kentuckian, who had just become aware of his presence.

Down went the Indian, possibly with a suspicion that his bronzed
skull was also perforated, as he fell across the limp body beneath
him; but Jack Carleton had not fired, not because the opportunity
was not inviting enough nor because he felt the least scruple about
shooting one of the savages who were thirsting for his life, but he
was afraid to discharge his piece before Otto should force another
bullet home.

Repeating and percussion rifles were unknown at that day, and it
took much valuable time to reload musket or gun after its discharge.
Knowing this, the infuriated redskins were likely to make a rush
whenever they knew that the weapons within the enclosure were
unloaded.

Inasmuch as the boys possessed no other firearms, it will be seen
that in such an event they would be helpless.  Indeed, it was
impossible for them to hold out if their assailants determined to
force matters.  They had but to leap over the walls, as could be
easily done, and the contest would be decided right speedily; that
decision must inevitably be against the daring defenders.




CHAPTER XI

A PRIMITIVE FORT


The sharp repulse of the Indians delayed rush which, as has been
said, could ended only in the discomfiture of the defenders.  The
occurrence proved that the first warriors to scale the walls were
certain to share the fate of him who had already made the attempt.

With such knowledge it would be unnatural to expect any Shawanoe or
Miami to throw himself into the breach, since, as a rule, men are
not anxious to sacrifice themselves for others.

The brief respite thus afforded Jack and Otto enabled them to make a
closer survey of the shelter which had presented itself so
providentially to them.  They found little not apparent to their
terrified gaze when they scrambled within.  There were the four
walls and nothing more.  With that morbid interest in trifling
things which often manifests itself in the most critical moments,
Otto counted the logs on each of the four sides.

"Dere be nine dere," said he, indicating the western side, "ten
dere, and nine and ten on de other sides."

"That must be right," remarked Jack, "for I make them the same."

"Tis funny dat we bofe counts dem at de same tine, when each one is
not doing it togedder."

The only entrance to the enclosure, as it seems proper to call it,
was the one used by the boys.  Nothing to suggest a door, or any
purpose of making one, was to be seen on any side of the walls.

It was not impossible that some hunters, who had encamped in the
vicinity, had started the structure with the intention of roofing it
over, and of providing some original means of ingress and egress
which was not apparent to the little garrison.

Convinced that they would not be disturbed for some time to come,
Jack hastily searched for loopholes, with which it would seem the
structure ought to have been provided, but nothing of the kind was
discovered.

Whoever had hewn and put together the logs, had done so with
admirable skill.  The gaps in the ends had been cut with a nicety
that made a perfect fit in every case.  Had the house been
completed, it certainly would have been a substantial one.

While the absence of loop-holes removed to a great extent the fear
of treacherous shots from the outside, yet in another respect it was
an annoyance.  The boys could see nothing of their assailants.  The
sense of hearing and conjecture itself were all that were left to
inform them of what was going on so near them.

It was not to be supposed that the Indians, after driving the youths
into shelter, would leave them undisturbed.  The death of one of
their warriors was enough to rouse the passion of revenge to the
highest point--a necessity which, as shown by the incidents already
narrated, did not exist.

When Jack and Otto were given a little time for reflection, they
were forced to see that their situation was hopeless.  Every
advantage was with their enemies, who, if they chose to save
themselves the risk of a determined assault, had only to wait.
Without food or water, with no means of leaving the place, the hour
must surely come when exhausted nature would compel this little
garrison to yield.

The boy's were many miles from the settlements on either side of the
river, and there was no means of sending word to their friends of
the dire strait in which they were placed.  Even could such message
reach Coatesville, or the cabins on the other side of the
Mississippi, several days must necessarily elapse before assistance
could arrive.

Jack Carleton's thoughts naturally turned to Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
He had heard so many stories of his wonderful woodcraft and skill
that he leaned upon him, when he was present to lean upon; but,
hopeful as was the nature of the young Kentuckian, he could gather
no crumbs of comfort in that direction.

Deerfoot had crossed the river in the Miami canoe, and could not be
expected to return until under cover of darkness.  Even then he must
be powerless.  There are limits to all human skill, and what greater
folly than to expect him to release two boys, shut in a log
enclosure, and surrounded by a score or less of vigilant Indian
warriors.

But it was not the nature of either Jack or Otto, to yield without a
struggle.  So long as they could fight off the dread end, so long
they would put, forth every effort to do so.

For fifteen minutes after the discharge of gun absolute silence
prevailed.  Not the slightest rustling told of the crouching savages
without.  The boys leaned against the logs of waited and listened.

During the interval, the young Kentuckian became filled with
irresistible curiosity to learn what their enemies were doing.  It
was certain they were plotting mischief, but he could form no idea
of its nature.

How was he to gain the coveted knowledge?  Manifestly there was but
the one way.

"Otto," he said in a low voice, "I'm going to climb up the logs and
look over."

"And got your head blown off, dot's vot you does!" exclaimed his
horrified friend.

"I'll come to that sooner or later any way," was the reply; "but I'm
not going to be shot; I'm not such a dunce as that; I mean to take
one glance over the logs, and will draw back so quickly that no one
will get a chance to shoot me."

Otto protested, but, seeing it was useless, gave over and made the
sensible suggestion that, instead of climbing up the wall and
thereby probably making known what he was doing, he should stand on
the shoulders of Otto.  That would give him enough elevation, and
the lad added:

"If I sees any noise vot I don't like, den I drops you so quick dot
you vill bump the ground so hard dot it bulges out mit China on de
other side."

At the very moment Jack made ready to avail himself of his friend's
support, they heard a movement on the part of the Indians, the
meaning of which was not understood.

A number of them seemed to be moving heavily over the ground, as
though carrying some weighty body or marching in military step.  The
boys listened closely, but it was impossible to tell what it meant.

The noise added to Jack's curiosity, and, leaning his gun against
the logs, he said:

"Help me up, Otto; I'm bound to find out what all that is about."

It was an easy matter to mount the shoulders of his young friend,
whose strength would have supported double his weight.  Jack found,
as he anticipated, that he would be able to look over the logs
without difficulty.  Steadying himself by placing his hand against
the wall, he slowly raised his head until almost on a level with the
top, when he quietly looked over.

No movement of the kind was expected by the Indians, and the face
was withdrawn before any one of them could fire.

Under such circumstances, a person can see a great deal in an
exceedingly brief space of time.  Jack Carleton learned much about
that which had excited his curiosity.

Inasmuch as the walls had been put up from material cut in the
immediate vicinity, a number of stumps surrounded the structure,
beside which a single unused log was lying.  It had been cut
entirely off at the base, several of the lower limbs trimmed, but
most of the bushy top remained.  It looked as if the builders had
been interrupted while at work, or they had voluntarily abandoned it
for something else.

Some six or eight warriors had lifted this log from the ground and
were laboriously hearing it In the direction of the fort (if the
name can be permitted).  Others were moving hither and thither, as
though they enjoyed viewing the job more than assisting with it.
One of them caught sight of the face of the young Kentuckian and
brought his gun to his shoulder; but, quick as he was, he was just a
moment too late.  When he was ready to fire, the target was gone.

"They're going to batter down the logs!" exclaimed Jack, dropping
lightly to the ground, and taking possession of his gun; "they're
carrying a log toward us, and mean to hammer these down about our
heads."

"What for they don't want to do dot?"

"It seems to me it would be a good plan for them to tumble our house
about our heads."

"I don't dink they doos dots," persisted the German, and he proved
to be right in his surmise.

With great labor the warriors bore the heavy tree forward, so that
the larger end was against the side of the fort.  Then, instead of
using it as a battering ram, they lifted it higher until, with an
exertion that must have been very great, it was raised even with the
log wall.  A combined effort rested the butt on the support, the
trunk sloping downward, until the top reached the ground, probably
thirty feet away.

As the butt was a foot in diameter, it will be seen that the work
must have been very onerous to the American Indian, who hates
physical labor as much as does the tramp of modern times.

Having accomplished what must be admitted to be quite a feat, the
toilers rested, while the boys looked up at the jagged end on the
logs, suggesting the head of some monster peering down upon them,
and speculated as to the meaning of the movement.

"Dot is so to help dem climbs to de top," said Otto, "or maybe they
will runs him across and play I see-saw.'

"It is to cover up some mischief on their part."

"If we only knowed when dey don't stands right under him, we would
shove off de end off and let him drop onto dem and mash 'em all!"

"It would take a good deal more strength than we have to do that,"
said Jack.  "I would like to take another peep over the edge, but it
won't do, because they will be on the lookout for us."

"Dot's vot I didn't dink some times ago," maid Otto, meaning a
little different from what his words implied.

It was yet early in the day, and the boys could not but feel that
the crisis was sure to come long before night.  The temperature was
mild and pleasant, no clouds floating in the space of clear sky
visible overhead.  The friends kept their loaded and cocked guns in
their hands all the while and moved to and fro, in the circumscribed
space, on the alert for the first demonstration from the red men,
distressed by the consciousness that their cunning enemies were sure
to do the very thing which was least expected.

Jack Carleton noticed that whenever he stood with his back against
the logs, he could see the upper portions of the trees which grew
close to the structure.  It occurred to him that some of the daring
warriors were liable to turn the fact to account.  It would take no
great skill for one or two of them to climb into the limbs, from
which they would command a portion of the interior.  No better
opportunity could be asked--in case they were not discovered by the
lads--to fire down upon them.

"I've been dinking of dot," replied Otto, when the matter was
mentioned; "and I dinks dot iss de tree yonder, and py gracious dere
is an Indian 'mong de limbs!"

This startling declaration was the truth.  The friends were standing
at the eastern end of the structure, so that they looked in the
direction of the river, where towered a bushy oak, fully twenty feet
of the upper portion being in sight.  Something was among the
branches, though the object could not be seen distinctly.  Fortunate
it was that both were gazing toward the point when their suspicion
was first awakened.

"Yes, it is an Indian, as sure as I live!" added Jack, in an excited
manner.  "Rash fool!  He has sealed his fate, for I couldn't want a
fairer target.  Leave him to me!"

"All right; I leaves him!"

The young Kentuckian was sure of his man, even though he was only
partially revealed, when the rifle was pointed.  He took careful
aim, but while in the act of pressing the trigger, he lowered the
weapon, with the whispered exclamation.

"Great heavens!  It is Deerfoot the Shawanoe!"




CHAPTER XII

AMONG THE TREE-TOPS


Jack Carleton was astounded.  Up to that moment he was absolutely
certain that the young Shawanoe was on the other side of the
Mississippi, and would make no attempt to return to the Kentucky
shore until night. Yet he had not only recrossed, but was actually
within fifty feet of the enclosure, directly among his fiercest
enemies, who were assailing it, and, more remarkable than all, he
had climbed among the limbs of a tree, where he could gain a view of
the interior.

There was a minute or so during which the Kentuckian actually
doubted his own senses.

"He must be an enemy who closely resembles Deerfoot," was his
thought; "I will shoot him before he shoots me."

The probability of such being the case was increased by the fact
that the Indian had a rifle instead of a bow and arrow, and there
were some daubs of paint on his face; but, for all that, the warrior
was Deerfoot, as a second scrutiny convinced Jack and Otto beyond
all question.

"It ish Deerhead! I means Deerfoot," whispered the German lad;
"dinks a whirlwind lifs him out te boat and drops him in de tree;
what don't he vants?"

The young Shawanoe had managed to reach a place amid the foliage,
where, if he could be seen at all by those below, the view was
indistinct, while, by pushing the branches carefully aside in front
of his face, he was plainly revealed to his friends.

When Jack Carleton raised his gun and sighted at the object in the
tree, the latter swept aside the curtain in front and made a signal
with his hand, which declared his identity.  Even though the paint
had been plentifully used by him, his regular features were
recognized when he smiled, and kept his hand waving in front of him
as though brushing smoke from his eyes.

"Yes, it's Deerfoot!" muttered Jack, lowering his weapon, and
staring with open mouth at the figure; "but things are getting
mixed, and I ain't exactly understand what it is all about."  But
the situation was too critical on every hand for the young friends
to give way to the wonderment caused by the discovery.  It speedily
became clear that while the Shawanoe dare not speak, he was trying
very hard to convey some message to his friends by means of
pantomime.  Holding the gun of the Miami in one hand, he kept the
other going energetically, but neither Jack nor Otto could guess his
meaning.

"Speak louder!" called Otto, forgetting himself; "vot vasn't dot dot
you didn't say?"

Instantly Deerfoot drew back his head, allowing the bushes to close,
so that he was only partly revealed.

"He is going to shoot!" exclaimed Jack.

Such, it was evident, was the intention of their friend, who brought
his rifle to a level, the black barrel plainly visible as it was
thrust among the branches.  Instead of being aimed downwards, it was
pointed at a considerable elevation above the defenders at some
object at the other side of the fort.

Turning their beads, the boys saw, from the agitation in the
branches of a tree, almost large as the oak, that something was
moving among the limbs.  The truth flashed upon both.  While they
were watching their friend, he had detected an enemy stealing into
the tree behind them, and sought to make known the alarming truth by
means of gesture.  Seeing they failed to catch his meaning, he
decided to attend to the matter himself, though it can be understood
that the shot would render his own death almost certain.

"That will never do!" exclaimed the young Kentuckian; "Deerfoot is
too valuable to be sacrificed."

The savage, who was climbing, did so with great care.  Now a beaded
moccasin would twinkle alongside the trunk, whisking out of sight
like a frolicking squirrel; then a red feather flashed to sight and
away again, the broad, painted face peeped from behind the tree,
while glimpses of the clothing here and there showed the rate with
which the warrior went upward.

Deerfoot must have seen the savage at the moment he began ascending
the trunk, and could not fail to know his purpose.  It was
all-important that the dangerous individual should be "attended to,"
and, observing that his friends were too much absorbed in watching
his movements to remember their own peril, the friendly Shawanoe did
not hesitate to take the frightful risk upon himself.

It may be said that it would be utterly impossible for him to
discharge his gun from the elevation without the other warriors
discovering the fact, though one or two might suspect the weapon was
fired within the enclosure; yet it was characteristic of the youth
that, when the necessity presented itself, he did not hesitate.

But Jack Carleton's presence of mind came to his assistance.  He
began such vigorous gestures that the attention of Deerfoot was
caught; without lowering his gun, he glanced downward.  He saw Jack
shaking his head from side to side, swinging his hand back and forth
and darting his finger excitedly at the tree on the other side of
the fort.

The quick-witted Shawanoe caught his meaning, and took his gun from
his shoulder.  Again he pushed the bushes aside, so that his face
came to view, and, looking down on his friends, smiled, nodded, and
made several gestures toward the other redskin, who was still
cautiously climbing the tree.  Then the curtain was drawn again, and
Deerfoot assumed the part of spectator instead of actor.

It is almost incredible that this performance could have taken place
without detection from below; but it came about that, while it was
going on, the attention of the red men was occupied by another
occurrence which will be told at the proper time.  The only ones who
showed any interest in Deerfoot and his enemy, steadily making his
way aloft, were the boys within the enclosure.

Accepting the lesson, Jack told Otto in a low voice to keep the
closest watch on all the tree-tops within sight, for it seemed
likely that still more of their enemies would resort to the same
strategy.

"Let there be no mistake about this," he said to his companion; "if
you catch sight of any one else, give him a shot, but I'm to settle
the question with this particular gentleman."

"Dot ish all right," assented Otto; "dot ish, it will be all right
if he ain't all wrong when you hits him."

Jack Carleton made no reply.  He was standing with his left foot
thrown slightly forward, his rifle, at his right shoulder, his head
inclined and his left eye, closed.  He was following the movements
of the Miami (as he judged him to be), who was seeking a perch from
which to fire down on the defenders of the primitive fort.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world for our friends to
place themselves beyond danger from that particular warrior; they
had only to step a little nearer the eastern wall, when it would
intervene between them and the savage; but Jack grasped the
situation well enough to understand the advantage of impressing
their assailants with the danger of any kind of attack.  If the
defenders should busy themselves with dodging the aim of their foes,
the trees were likely to swarm with them, and it would become
impossible to elude their aim.

As before, the climbing Miami afforded occasional glimpses of
himself.  Now a moccasin, then a hand, his gun, the black
horse-hair-like covering for his crown, with the painted eagle
feathers, then an instant gleam of the eyes, and then nothing at
all.

Remembering that a wound would be as effective its death itself,
Jack coolly waited the opportune moment.  Suddenly he saw the rifle,
arm and shoulder of the warrior, as he flung them partly over a limb
to help draw himself upward.  Without a second's delay the youth
fired, his view being much less obstructed than was the care with
his friend in the other tree.

An ear-splitting screech broke the stillness, and the wounded Miami
came tumbling downward as though every possible support had given
way beneath him.  To the watchful lads it looked as if he struck
nothing at all in his descent, but fell with the swiftness of a
cannon-ball, until the intervening logs shut him from sight.

"I dinks some dings dropped," said Otto, with a grin; "mebbe he
don't try to fool us some more agin, don't it?"

Jack made no comment, but, as was his rule, reloaded his gun with
utmost haste, dreading all the time a rush from their enemies.  It
may be set down as singular that something of the kind did not take
place, since the assailants must have known it could not fail to be
effective.

The sagacious Deerfoot seemed to believe that his position was no
longer tenable, for, instead of staying where he was, he began
descending, apparently in panic of fear, lest he should share the
fate of the other red man.  So far as he could, he kept the trunk of
the tree between him and the youthful marksmen until beyond all
danger of being harmed.

Jack saw just enough of the movement to understand its meaning, and
he smiled grimly.

"After doing what you have done, you ought to take the part of
leader and draw off the warriors."

The young Kentuckian stood near the middle of the enclosure glancing
upward in different directions while reloading his piece, for he
understood too well the necessity of unremitting vigilance whenever
the American Indian takes a hand in proceedings.

Otto was not behind him in that respect.  He walked softly around
the fort close to the walls, attentively listening for sounds that
would give some knowledge of what was going on outside.  At
intervals he stopped and with his knife gouged the wood, where it
seemed thinner than usual, but in every case found the thickness too
great to be pierced.

Just beneath the spot where the butt of the tree rested on the upper
edge of the wall, he stopped Once more and pressed his ear against
the logs.  He stood fully a minute, when, without moving his head,
he looked sideways at his friend, who was watching him.  The
expression of his face was so significant that Jack knew he had made
a discovery of importance.

"What is it?" he asked.

Otto motioned for him to keep quiet.  Jack stepped forward in front
of him.

As Otto was looked at him without speaking, he also pressed his ear
against the logs, with a view of learning what was going on.

Every one knows that wood is a good conductor of sound, and, though
in this case there were several layers of logs through which the
noise passed, the second listener at once suspected the truth.

The scratching of the bark indicated that some one was carefully
climbing up the inclined tree.

"That is to be their next move," muttered. Jack, hastily stepping
back to the centre of the space; "if they make a rush over that
bridge they will be down in a twinkling--"

Otto kept his position, with his ear still  glued to the logs, and
not yet certain what the noise meant.

Just as Jack looked upward he saw, to his amazement, the head and
front of the huge black bear coming up the inclined tree with the
intent purpose of entering the interior.  It instantly occurred to
the youth that it was the same daring bruin that came so near
attacking them a short while before.

He has used this place as his den and means to return to it; the
Indians have seen him prowling around, and placed the tree so as to
temp him to climb upward on it.

The beast advanced until he could look downward on the couple, and
then, gazing only a second or two, he backed out of sight and
dropped to the ground with a strange, chuckling growl.

At the same instant a feeling of unutterable chagrin came over the
lad who witnessed the maneuver, for, just a breath too late, he
comprehended the shrewd trick by which he had been outwitted.
Confused by the unexpected sight, he failed to note that the
creature was not a bear at all, but a Shawanoe warrior skillfully
disguised as much.

With the skin of one of the beasts gathered over his head and
shoulders, he had made his way up the support, peered at the
defenders, and then withdrawn before the watchful Jack could tumble
him to the earth with the bullet that would have pierced his body
had five seconds more been given in which to aim and fire.




CHAPTER XIII

A MESSAGE


Jack's chagrin was deepened the more he reflected upon the singular
occurrence.  Had he been outwitted by some skillfully-executed trick
of the Indians, he would have accepted it as a mishap liable to
overthrow the most experienced ranger of the woods; but he felt he
ought to have known on the instant that no real bear would have
attempted anything of the kind.

There was not a phase of the artifice which was not a reproach to
him.  Had the beast used the enclosure as a den or a retreat--a
thing of itself incredible--the evidence of that fact would have
been noticed the moment the boys climbed within.  Then the
likelihood of his clambering up the inclined tree in the presence of
a war party of Shawanoes and Miamis, who had laid it for that very
purpose, was too grotesquely absurd to be thought of with patience.

"Maybe it is as well," he said, with an effort to extract some
consolation from the blunder; "for perhaps it will lead them to
repeat the trick."

"Mine gracious! why didn't he drop down onto mine bead?" said Otto,
stepping hastily away from his position; "he would have mashed me
out as flat as---as--as a big tree itself."

"I don't see why they didn't form a procession of bears and walk
right over among us?  We would have stood still and allowed them to
hug us to death."

Admitting the only explanation that presented itself, Jack and Otto
were not yet able fully to account for the proceeding.  The labor of
dragging the fallen trunk and lifting the butt to the wall, seemed
too great to suppose it was to be used only to allow one of the
Indians to climb to the top and peer over upon the boys beneath.
The same thing could be accomplished by ascending one of the trees
and avoiding the peril to which some of them had been exposed.

But, beside all that, what in reality was gained by taking a peep at
the youths?  The assailants knew they were there, and it could not
matter a jot in what particular manner they were employing
themselves.  They could do nothing that could give those on the
outside the slightest concern.  It was the defenders whose interests
required the anticipation of the movements of the warriors.

"I can't understand it," said Jack, standing close to his friend and
talking in a low voice.

"So ain't I--harks!"

They listened a full minute, but the silence could not have been
more profound.  A gentle wind stirred the leaves overhead, and the
tops of the trees nearest them could be seen slightly swaying
against the clear sky beyond.  The murmur of the great forest was
like the voice of silence itself while the almost inaudible murmur
of the Mississippi, sweeping so near, made itself manifest the first
time since they had turned at bay.

The deep quiet was more impressive than the whoops and screeches of
the warriors would have been.  Under such circumstances, it boded
mischief, and the utter uncertainty of its nature almost unsettled
the remarkable courage both up to that moment had displayed.

"I hears nodings," added Otto; "I'mebbe don't go to sleep and wait
for the night to come."

"Night is a good many hours off," replied Jack, with an uneasy
glance at the sky, which showed him the sun had not yet reached
meridian; "they can beat any people in the world waiting, when they
have a mind to do so, but there's been no necessity of halting at
all.  If they had followed up over the logs it would have been all
ended by this time."

"Yaw; they would have tumbled all over us, like a pig lot of trees
falling down, but now I dinks they waits."

"Why will they do that?"

"If dey climbs over like as dey didn't does, don somepody git hurt,
but if dey holds on till night den we'll have to climb over and
falls on 'em."

This was Otto's manner of expressing what was inevitable, in case
the besiegers should conclude to wait for the hour, which could not
be very distant, when the defenders must lose all power of
resistance.

The two did not forget to keep a continuous guard over the
"watch-towers" of the enemy.  Despite the repulse that had followed
their attempts, it was by no means uncertain that they would not
repeat them.  The success of the bear trick was likely to tempt them
to another essay in the same direction.

Otto Relstaub was leaning against the solid logs, his position such
that the sun, which was now near meridian, shone directly upon him.
His friend was almost immediately opposite--the two looking in each
other's face, and exchanging words in low tones.

All at once the German became sensible of something cool just behind
his neck.

"Vot ain't dot?" he said, putting up his hand as though to brush
away some insect.  Striking nothing, he turned to look.

"O-oh-oh!" he said, with a wondering expression, and an expansion of
his big, honest eyes.

"There's an opening behind you," remarked his friend, moving hastily
across to where he stood.

"Yaw; I sees him.  Where's he been hiding himself when I voon't
looking for him not a little while ago."

It certainly was curious that both boys should have made such a
minute examination of the interior without finding the crevice
between a couple of the logs, large enough to admit the passage of
several bullets, and through which it would have been an easy matter
for their enemies to shoot him who stood immediately in front.

The opening was some six inches wide, and no more than an eighth of
an inch in height, resembling the crevice through which the captain
looks out upon the enemy from the turret of a monitor.  The fact
that the red men had made no use of it was proof they did not
suspect its existence, though that did not lessen the wonder of Otto
that he had failed to find it himself, when making search.

"I see!" suddenly exclaimed Jack, who was attentively examining the
place.  "No wonder you missed it, for it was closed up.  You must
have rubbed one of your long ears against the stick which fits it so
closely."

The piece with which it had been closed lay on the ground, at the
feet of the boys, and made clear why they had failed to find that
for which they had hunted so carefully.

Jack cut the stick apart with his knife and reinserted one half with
a view of rendering it less liable to attract the notice of the
besiegers.  Then, quite sure that it was still unknown to them, he
leaned forward with his eye to the opening.

"While I'm peeping here keep a lookout elsewhere, Otto."

His friend nodded, to signify he would be obeyed, and then Jack took
a survey of his surroundings.

It so happened that he stood nearly under the tree which leaned
against the wall, and thus gained a good view.  He certainly saw
enough to interest the most indifferent spectator.  Five painted
Indian warriors were seen standing around what seemed to be a
dancing bear, who was gesticulating with his fore paws.  Suddenly he
cast off the shaggy hide and revealed the redskin who bad made the
audacious ascent on the log in his disguise and peeped over on the
boys below.

He seemed to be talking with his friends, while the whole half dozen
were gesticulating with great energy, though, in spite of their
excitement, their words were spoken so low that our friends could
hear little more than the jumbling murmur of their voices.

No doubt more Indians were close at hand, but Jack saw none.  He
stealthily removed the other part of the stick, and thereby widened
his view considerably, but he still failed to discover anything
more.  His vision took in the tree up which Deerfoot had climbed,
but nothing was to be observed of him, or of any others gathered
around the base.

Convinced that they were on the other side of the fort, Jack gave
his whole attention to those before him.

It looked very much as if the author of the trick described was
regaling his friends with an account of the highly successful manner
in which he had played his points on the unsuspecting parties within
the enclosure.

Jack was convinced that the rifle-shot which he and his friend
heard, before rushing into the refuge, was the one that slew the
bear.  The Indians had hastily skinned the animal, probably
completing the task near the time they became aware of the presence
or rather the flight of the two boys.  They had united in the
pursuit, taking the bear-skin with them, and its use in the manner
described was suggested by the prostrate tree lying so close to the
logs, though even that theory failed fully to satisfy the questions
of the youth.

Another interesting discovery was that he had seen two of the
Shawanoes before.  He had no difficulty in recognizing them as those
who had shown such eagerness to follow the trail of the hunter that
had shot the panther some distance back on the path.

The warrior who had masqueraded in the character of a big, black
bear belonged to the Miami tribe, the representatives of the two
joining hands in the crusade against the young pioneers.  Neither
the wounded red man nor the one who was past wounding was to be seen
anywhere.

The vigorous and somewhat suppressed conversation among the group
continued a few minutes and then abruptly stopped.  The entire party
seemed to have become "talked out" the same instant.

"Now they will hatch up some more mischief," was the thought of the
watcher.  "I don't think it likely they will send that bear up the
tree again. If they do he will come down a little quicker than he
goes up."

The sensations of the young Kentuckian were very peculiar, when he
became aware that the Shawanoe who had displayed so much skill in
hunting for his footprints in the twilight was looking directly
toward him.  He seemed in fact to be gazing into the eyes of the
youth, as though he was striving to stare him out of countenance.

Jack would have been glad at that moment had the opening been
hermetically sealed; but, hopeful that he was not seen, he held his
place, not stirring in the slightest, and striving to the utmost to
keep from winking his eyes.

The singular tableau lasted much less time than the boy imagined.
All at once the hum of conversation was renewed, every one of the
half dozen seeming to be seized with the impulse at the same moment.
He who had been gazing so steadily at Jack looked in the face of one
of his comrades.  Instantly the boy moved to one side and replaced
the rest of the stick, so that the crevice was closed once more.

"There," he exclaimed, with a sigh, "I never was placed in a more
trying situation than that."

"Vot voon't dot?"

Jack quickly told his experience, and his companion shuddered and
shrugged his shoulders in sympathy.

"Have you seen any of them among the trees?"

"No.  They vill not go to roost, I dinks, till the sun comes down."

"It won't do to calculate on that.  If they wait they will try some
new tricks."

"Vot can't them try?"

"The trouble is we cannot guess.  You know the Indians are so
cunning that they will think out something--"

Zip!

Both boys started and looked around.  Something had entered the
enclosure like a bullet fired from a gun.

"Look!" whispered Jack, pointing to the other side, where an Indian
arrow was seen sticking in the logs, at a point half way between the
ground and the top.

"I dinks they used guns and not arrows," said the astonished, Otto,
standing motionless and staring at the missile, whose barb was still
trembling from the force with which it had been driven into the
solid wood.

"They do use guns only," said Jack.  "That arrow was fired by
Deerfoot!"

"Dere is one piece of paper tied around mit it."

"It is a message from Deerfoot!" said Jack, stepping forward and,
with considerable effort, drawing forth the arrow.




CHAPTER XIV

THE MANEUVRES OF DEERFOOT


Deerfoot the Shawanoe committed a serious mistake as he himself was
the first to discover, when he upset the Miami warrior into the
Mississippi and made off with his canoe. He had started out to help
his friends, but his course was an injury to them, for it increased
their danger without giving them the least assistance.

What he ought to have done, when he observed the drowsy fisherman,
was to bring the boys to the spot, so that, directly after the red
man was dispossessed, the three could have entered the boat and
hastened across the river.  Had he done so, all that which followed
would have be averted.

In referring to the course of the young Shawano the most incredible
statement is that the blunder was altogether due to his waggishness,
because in his eagerness to play a joke upon an enemy, he forgot his
usual caution; but such was the truth.

The warrior, however, was not the one to stay on the western shore
when his friends were in danger.  Though he had told them to expect
him back at a certain hour, early in the afternoon, his intention
was to return much earlier.  It would have been folly for him to
make for any point near that from which he departed when he set out
from the Kentucky shore.  Such a proceeding would be seen by his
enemies, and would invite them to riddle him with bullets as he
approached.

The moment he touched the Louisiana side, he ran under the
overhanging limbs far enough to be out of sight of any who might be
on the watch, and then pushed vigorously up stream.  He continued
until he had gone fully a half mile and had rounded quite a bend in
the river.  Then he paddled straight across to the other bank, down
which he made his way with the same haste.

He speedily arrived in the vicinity of the lads and prepared, in his
characteristic fashion, to take a hand in their rescue.  Hoping that
the chance for flight would speedily come, he carefully drew the
canoe under cover, where he was confident it would not be seen by
any enemies prowling in the vicinity.  Then he stealthily plunged
into the wood to give what help he could to his friends.

It took him only a little while to find they were at bay within the
log enclosure and in much greater danger than he first supposed.
The discovery caused a change in his plans.  He returned to the
canoe and took out the rifle which he had captured; his bow and,
arrows were not left within the boat, for he valued them too highly
to incur such risk; they were hidden where he knew no one could
possibly steal them away from him.  Then the little phial which he
carried in the receptacle with his Bible was uncorked and the
crimson paint applied with his forefinger to his face.  The
ornamentation was as fantastical as the imagination of the native
American could make it.

Viewed for the first time by those who did not know him, he would
have been classed as one of the fiercest warriors that ever went on
the war trail.  Had he been a pagan instead of a Christian, the idea
would have been a correct one.

But Deerfoot was handicapped from the first by the fact that he was
known to more than one of the party.  It may be said that at that
day there was scarcely a Shawanoe east of the Mississippi who had
not heard of the execrated friend of the white men.  They knew that
his favorite weapons, beside his knife and tomahawk, were his bow
and arrows; that his skill with them approached the marvelous; they
knew that his fleetness surpassed that of any living person that he
possessed a form and features of rare beauty; that his courage was
surpassed by none, for, when but a stripling, he had handed a knife
to the furious Tecumseh, and dared him to fight unto the death, and
that his cunning and subtlety were beyond the reach of the ordinary
warrior.

Deerfoot himself was aware of his general notoriety, and, though he
might not have been seen by the Shawanoes, yet they would identify
him at the first glance, provided he appeared before them in his own
proper person.

It will be understood, therefore, why he disguised his appearance
with such care.  With the shrewdness of one of our modern
detectives, he made a change also, as may be said, in "himself"
that is, he walked differently, and used his arms and legs in style
altogether foreign to his custom.

It must be remembered that there were several strong points in his
favor; his was the tribe whose warriors hated him with unspeakable
hatred, and he therefore was a master of every detail.  When he was
assisted by the gloom of night, he was in scarcely any danger,
though it was far different under the glare of the sun.

Another advantage should be named, inasmuch as the reader is apt to
overlook it; the separate war parties from the Shawanoe and Miami
tribes were not only few in numbers, but they had not met until
after arriving in the neighborhood where the youthful pioneers were
traveling with little fear of molestation.  Thus, in a certain
sense, the warriors, while allies, were comparative strangers.
After disguising himself he believed his identity would not be
discovered by the Miamis, unless, possibly, by the lone fisherman.
There was also a fair prospect that he could avert suspicion for a
time on the part of the Shawanoes, unless particular attention was
directed to him.

The foregoing seems necessary in order to justify what was done by
the wonderful Deerfoot.  He managed to appear on the outer fringe of
the ring of assailants, without drawing special notice, and he used
all his skill in learning what the assailants intended to do.

The warrior who had been shot while in the act of climbing over the
logs after the boys, met his fate before Deerfoot arrived on the
scene.  The Indians were in a revengeful mood, and were unanimous in
their determination to visit the worst punishment on the youths who
were making such a brave fight for their lives.

"But for Deerfoot they would not be in this sad plight," was the
thought of the young Shawanoe; "therefore the Great Spirit expects
Deerfoot not to think of his own life until they are saved from the
death which threatens them."

Fortunately for this purpose the warriors were scattered to a
considerable extent, and seemed to give their whole thoughts to
those within the enclosure.  Deerfoot knew, when he observed the
heavy log borne forward, and the butt placed on the wall, that it
was meant to be used to carry out some plan not clearly settled in
the minds of the assailants themselves.  When he saw a move to climb
the trees which stood near the rude fort, he feared his friends
would be caught unawares, and he took to a tree with the hope of
being able to give them warning in time.

On this point it will be seen the young warrior underrated the
woodcraft of his friends.  With a thrill of pleasure he glanced at
the rifle of Jack Carleton pointed at him, before he had sought to
open communication.  It was only a natural precaution which led him
to select a tree where he was able to use the sign language, without
being seen by any of his enemies below.  He made sure that enough
foliage intervened to screen him from the inquiring gaze of his
enemies during the proceeding.

Having made certain that his identity was known to his friends, it
will be remembered that the sought to warn them of the very peril
which threatened from the tree on the other side.  Failing to make
himself clear, he raised his own gun with the intention of shooting
the savage from the perch, but providentially Otto Relstaub averted
the necessity.

It is difficult to believe that had Deerfoot fired the shot he could
have effected his own escape.  The point from which the gun was
discharged must have made itself manifest to more than one warrior
below, and would have involved him in a labyrinth of peril, where
his subtlety must have failed him.

But it need not be repeated that he would not have faltered on that
account, had the need existed.  He believed it his duty to hesitate
at no risk, because he himself was wholly to blame for the dire
straits in which the boys found themselves.

With a grim enjoyment that can hardly be understood, Deerfoot stood
in the background and watched the antics of the warrior who had
wrapped the bear-skin about his shoulders and body.  He could not
avoid a feeling of admiration for the cleverness with which the
front was arranged, so as to resemble that of the beast, but he felt
not the slightest fear that the trick would succeed.  It was such an
antiquated stratagem that he wondered it was attempted, especially
after the defenders had given so convincing evidence of their
watchfulness.

His amazement, therefore, may be appreciated when he saw the
creature slowly make his way to the edge of the fort, look down on
the boys, and then back a few steps and drop to ground.

He could not believe they had failed penetrate a disguise which
could scarcely hope to deceive, except under very favoring
circumstance but concluded they must have refrained good reason of
their own.

While these troublesome thoughts were in the mind of Deerfoot, he
kept his eye on the Miami, whose scant clothing had not dried after
his voluntary plunge into the Mississippi, from the bow of his
canoe.  His victim acted as though he entertained some doubts as to
the identity of the individual that did not mingle with the main
body of the warriors.

Deerfoot knew that if he did suspect the truth, his curiosity was
likely to cause trouble.  The time had come when it was the part of
wisdom to withdraw.

At last the Miami walked toward the enclosure, where two of his own
tribe were talking same number of the Shawanoes.   He said something
which stirred up matters at once.  All five began talking
vigorously, and then they turned take a look at the youthful
warrior.

He was gone, having vanished as silently as he appeared on the
scene, and it was well that he did so, for the deception could have
been carried no further.

Within the succeeding ten minutes the report of a rifle came from
the direction of the river.  Then a second was heard from another
point in the wood, and again a third report awoke the echoes among
the trees.

The red men did not know what it meant.  All the surviving members
of the two parties were together, and they could not understand who
the new comers were.  They were probably those of their own race,
though the discomforting possibility remained that they might be
white men on their way to the help of the beleaguered boys.

The truth was, Deerfoot was convinced that if Jack and Otto were not
extricated from their peril long before night, no hope could remain
for them.  It was so clearly in the power of the red men to capture
or destroy them whenever they chose to put forth the effort, that he
knew they would not wait until night.

There were trees on every hand which would shelter the
sharp-shooters.  If they ensconced themselves among the limbs of
these, the lads would be shut off from the chance of protecting
themselves, for on whichsoever side of the space they stood, they
would be within the range of one or two of the gunners.

The plan which he next proceeded to put into execution was in the
mind of Deerfoot from the first moment he learned of the situation
of the endangered ones.  It was impossible to succeed without a
perfect understanding with his friends, for they necessarily had an
important part to play in the programme.

"Deerfoot will send them a message," he said to himself, with a
throb of pride over the facility at his command; "that will tell
everything."

Making his way to a safe point in the forest, he sat down on the
ground, tore off a piece from the paper which he carried with his
Bible, and with red chalk, sharpened to a point, he proceeded to
write the words intended only for the eyes of his friends within the
enclosure.  The paper was twisted around the arrow, just back of the
bead, and he then was ready to adopt the means which he had employed
more than once in somewhat similar situations.




CHAPTER XV

"TALL OAKS FROM LITTLE ACORNS GROW"


Jack Carleton walked across the slight space that separated him from
the arrow, quivering in the log on the opposite side of the
enclosure.  He knew that it had come from the bow of the young
Shawanoe, who displayed his extraordinary skill by sending it at
such an elevation that it passed over the heads of his friends.

"It is a message from Deerfoot," repeated the Kentuckian, as he drew
out the missile and unwrapped the paper wound around it.  "Let us
see what he has to say."

The paper being unfolded, showed the following words in the small
but graceful hand of the Shawanoe:

"Let my brothers listen!  They will hear one gun; they will hear
another, and then will sound a third!  Let them listen closer, for
they are meant for their ears!  Then will come shouts and the sound
of a gun the fourth time!  Let my brothers climb over the logs and
run as fast as they can to the river.  Close by the ash that lies
with its limbs in the water, they will find the canoe; they must
make haste to paddle across or it will be too late.  They must not
wait for Deerfoot.  He will take care of himself.  Let my brothers
listen and be not slow."

"There's no trouble to understand what he means," said Jack, after
reading the words aloud.

"What ish it dot he does?" asked Otto, not quite certain as to the
purpose of their dusky ally.

"He means to start a panic.  He is going to try to scare the red men
so that they will scatter and give us a chance to get away."

The German lad shook his bead.

"Nix.  He can't do dot."

"It looks to me like a wild scheme, but as it is the last hope, we
must be ready to give all the help we can, for I don't know of any
one who ought to be more interested than we.  Sh!  What was that?"

Just then it was so still that the slightest noise made by a falling
fragment of a stick reached their ears.  Looking quickly around they
saw that the bit of wood which had been used to close the orifice
between the logs had fallen or had been pushed out and lay on the
ground.  The narrow slit would have shown daylight through it had it
not been closed by altogether a different object or rather series of
objects; for when the astonished boys contemplated the spot they
caught the gleam of two pairs of eyes peering at them.

The Indians had found the opening and were scrutinizing the
interior.  The glitter of the four orbs which filled the crevice
caused most peculiar sensations on the part of the boys who saw
them.

"Ain't you not ashamed mit yourselves!" exclaimed Otto, quickly
bringing his gun to his shoulder and firing directly through the
opening.

"I teaches you mit better manners."

But, quick as he was, the warriors were quicker, and the darkened
slit became light with the noiseless speed of a twinkling sunbeam.
The Indians needed no second intimation of what was coming.

The crisis which followed this shot was more imminent than the
defenders supposed.  The assailants had become convinced that they
were throwing away valuable time, and they assembled in a group to
consider the best means of forcing matters to an issue.

It was at that moment that the report of the gun was heard from the
direction of the river.  Shawanoe and Miami suspended conversation
and, looking inquiringly at each other, listened.

A brief while after, the second shot was heard from another point,
followed by a third from still another direction.

"There are strangers in the woods," remarked one of the warriors, in
a guarded voice.

"Our brothers have come to look for us."

As suddenly as the crash of a thunderbolt, the Shawanoe war-whoop
broke on the air, followed by what seemed to be the shouts of white
men.

Then a voice of mortal terror shouted in the same tongue:

"The white men are coming!  The white men are coming!"

The sound of hurrying feet was heard, as though a dozen warriors
were fleeing in hot haste from a dreaded foe.  The effect intended
by this diversion of Deerfoot promised the brilliant success he
hoped rather than expected.  One of the savages standing close to
the fallen tree, started with an exclamation and dashed off in an
opposite direction from the point whence came the alarming sounds.
The effect was contagious: the others followed pell-mell, every one
plunging forward with the frantic desperation which the bravest man
will show in moments of panic.

It need not be said that Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub listened to
these favorable sounds with breathless interest.  They understood
the stratagem of Deerfoot, and could not feel very hopeful of its
success; but the noise of hastily departing warriors thrilled them
with delight.

"They are running!" exclaimed the young Kentuckian, with beaming
face; "who would have thought it?"

"I dinks it time dot we vasn't doing the same," said Otto, who,
catching the top of the wall with both hands, drew himself upward
and peered over.  He was gratified with the sight of the two
hindmost warriors just vanishing from sight.  The whole party were
panic-stricken.

Otto turned his head to tell the joyful news to his companion, when
he saw that he had also drawn himself up beside him.  The fourth
report of a gun was heard.

"Now is your time," said Jack: "over with you; I'll hand you your
gun."

Otto lost no time in scrambling over, and his feet scarcely touched
the ground when his rifle whizzed end over end after him.  It
required all his activity to dodge it, and, while doing so, he
received a sound thump from the gun of his friend, who seemed to be
flinging weapons around with wild recklessness.

One important fact was clear to the boys: the panic of the Indians
was certain to be short-lived.  Before fleeing far, they would
suspect the trick played on them, and would return with tenfold more
fierceness than before.

The hearts of the boys throbbed high with hope when they found
themselves outside the enclosure which had served them as a prison,
and they knew the irrevocable step had been taken; they must now go
forward at all hazards.

The Mississippi was near, and thither they made all haste,
remembering the instructions of Deerfoot as conveyed through the
note borne to them on the wings of the arrow.  Jack, who was the
fleeter of foot, kept slightly in advance, though he had no purpose
of leaving his friend behind.

"Dot ish one good things as nefer vos," Otto took occasion to say,
while panting close behind him: "dere ish not so many of demi
blagued vines dot cotches me all de times ven I vos--oh mine
gracious!"

As is too often the case, the lad rejoiced too soon, for the words
were yet in his mouth when the very mishap he referred to overtook
him.  A running vine became entangled around his ankles, and he went
forward on his hands and knees; but he was not injured, and speedily
rose again.

In spite of their imminent peril, the young Kentuckian could not
repress a smile when he glanced back and saw Otto picking himself
up; but the smile was gone instantly, for the situation was anything
but a mirthful one.

"Here we are!" called out Jack, halting on the bank of the river and
glancing around him.  "But where is the canoe?"

"I dinks the first things ish to find the ash tree what ish not
laying up but standing down," suggested Otto, moving along the
stream.

It was manifest that the boat could not be found until after
locating the landmark named by the young Shawanoe; for it was
certain Deerfoot had taken care to hide the canoe where some search
would be necessary to find it.

But in specifying the fallen tree, Deerfoot gave no idea of where it
was to be found.  He must have believed it was so conspicuous that
no direction was required.

During the few seconds that the friends stood irresolute, they used
ears as well as eyes.  Suddenly the whoop of an Indian was heard a
brief distance away.

"My gracious!" whispered Jack; "they're coming back!  They have
discovered the trick."

"Dot ish so; let's jump on to de water and swim to de oder side."

The situation was enough to make the bravest nervous, and the sturdy
German could not repress his impatience.  Every second was of
incalculable worth, and yet, knowing they were close to the means
which was to take them to safety, they could not seize it.

"No; that won't do," replied Jack, resolutely; "they will stand on
the bank and pick us off without trouble to themselves; we must find
the boat."

"But how can't we do dot?"

"You move up the bank and I will hurry down it the canoe cannot be
far off; the instant you catch sight of it, whistle, and I'll do the
same if I see it before you."

Otto sprang away with a more anxious expression on his broad, honest
face than it wore when he was crouching behind the logs, and the
young Kentuckian was scarcely less agitated.  His feelings were
similar to those which come to us in sleep, when we see some grisly
terror approaching and have no power to flee before it.  Somewhere,
almost within reach, was the vehicle to carry them out of peril, and
yet they could not lay their hands on it.

Jack was resolved, in case the canoe was not speedily found, to do
as Otto advised--leap into the Mississippi and swim boldly for the
other shore.  If they could gain a fair start, they would have cause
to hope; but such an attempt, desperate as it was, must be
undertaken very soon or not at all.

Again the dreaded whoop reached them from the woods, and the leader
started as though he had caught the click of a gun-lock from behind
a tree.

The cry was not a loud one, and was no doubt meant as a signal to
some one not far off.

"I wonder where Deerfoot can be," muttered Jack, pushing his way
hurriedly through the underbrush, and glancing in every direction
for the fallen tree which was to show them the craft.  "He told us
not to wait for him, but it seems to me he ought to have given us
help in finding the boat."

Again, and for the third time, the frightful signal trembled among
the trees close behind him.

"He shan't catch me unprepared, at any rate," muttered the young
Kentuckian, raising the hammer of his gun and looking defiantly
toward the point whence came the cry.

The Indian did not show himself, and conscious that he was throwing
away precious seconds, Jack pushed forward once more, keeping watch
of his flank as well as his front, for a treacherous shot from the
forest would render a canoe altogether useless, so far, at least, as
Master Jack Carleton was concerned.

He was impatient and desperate.  There is often a perverseness in
inanimate things which is beyond endurance.  He had started with the
highest hopes a few minutes before, confident of finding the Indian
canoe without trouble, and now he was baffled and held back when on
the very threshold of safety.

"It is useless to wait," he finally said, coming to an abrupt halt.
"I will call to Otto and we will swim for it."

But, before he could emit the whistle that had been agreed upon, his
ears were set tingling by the identical signal coming from a point
up the bank.

"Thank heaven!" was his exclamation, as he wheeled about and,
forgetful of the other signal that had told him of peril, dashed
along the bank of the stream with furious haste.

"Otto has been more fortunate than I," he added, as he bounded
forward; "he has found the canoe, and I pray that he has not been
too late for us to use it."




CHAPTER XVI

ON THE RIVER


The experience of Otto was somewhat similar to that which befell
Jack Carleton in his search for the Indian canoe.  Strong,
self-possessed, and courageous by nature as was the German lad, he
fretted over his forced restraint more than did the other.

He pushed forward with grim recklessness.  He caught the signal of
the warrior which caused Jack so much disquiet, but he did not
permit it to interfere with his purpose.

"Let him boot all dot he doesn't vant to," muttered the angry lad;
"he don't drive me away from looking for dot canoe, don't it?"

Several minutes passed, during which he failed to discover the first
sign of the missing boat.  Finally, realizing that a considerable
distance must intervene between him and Jack, he came to a pause,
and, sitting on a fallen tree, took off his cap, mopped his
forehead, and heaved a great sigh:

"Dot ish queerer as efer vos; Deerfoot, he tells me dot we find his
boat and we don't finds him; he says we must jump into the boat and
paddles out mitdle Mississippi, but we finds the Mississippi, but
vere ain't dot canoe?  Dot ishn't the question.  Vere isn't Jack?
He ish looking for de canoe also mit likevise, and I don't bear him
vistle for me--mine gracious!"

Otto spoke slowly, giving utterance only to a few of the thoughts
which stirred his brain.  He was on the point of signaling to his
friend to return, and, insisting that they should swim the river
together, when he became aware that the undergrowth in front of him
and close to the water, partially screened some object whose
outlines could be faintly trace from where he sat.

With the exclamation, he straightened up and stared in blank
astonishment.  The contour of what he saw was so distinct that there
could be no mistake; he was staring straight at the canoe for which
he had been hunting so long.

Otto softly rose to his feet and looked behind him.  He had been
sitting on the very ash which Deerfoot had named as the guide that
would direct them in finding the craft.  Otto threw back his head
and laughed, overcome by the reaction from the tense strain to which
his nerves had been subjected.

"Ven somepody axes for de biggest fool dot efer vos, he looks at
Otto Relstaub and says, 'I Dot ish him,' and dot will be him."

But he, shivered at the thought of the minutes that had slipped by,
and, without indulging in any more soliloquy, placed his finger and
thumb in his mouth and emitted the whistle which thrilled Jack
Carleton down the river and brought him hurrying to the spot.

Satisfied that no repetition of the call was required, Otto gave his
attention to the boat.  It was a fine Indian canoe, buoyant enough
to carry six or eight warriors, and furnished with three long
paddles which, in skillful hands, could drive it with great speed
through the water.  It was made of bark, bow and stern being
similar, curving inward toward the middle of the boat, and painted
with rude designs outside, which showed more taste than did the
ornamentation of the aboriginal countenances.

Deerfoot had displayed no little ingenuity in screening the craft
from sight.  Inasmuch as Otto had forgotten himself so far as to sit
down on the very tree for which he was searching without once
suspecting his forgetfulness, it is not to be supposed he would have
discovered the boat at all but for the accident named.

Grasping one end, he began vigorously pushing it into the current.
It was heavy, and he wondered at the strength of the young Shawanoe,
who had drawn it clear of the water, overlooking the fact that
moderate strength, skillfully applied, succeeds more frequently than
does simple physical power.

After much effort, he shoved it clear of the land and held it
floating on the surface.

"I wonder if Jack didn't hear me," he thought, looking around; "I
thinks I calls him agin once more."

He did not utter the signal, however, for just then he heard
approaching footsteps, and, a minute later, the flushed and panting
Jack Carleton was beside him.

"Thank heaven!" he exclaimed; "I was in despair when your signal
reached me; we haven't a second to lose."

"We ishet going to lose him, not at all.  Hark!"

They heard just then, not only the faint whoop that had caused them
so much disquiet, but caught sight of the warrior who uttered the
alarming call.

He whisked between the trees with such bewildering quickness of
movement that Jack, who had turned with his rifle half raised, saw
no chance of firing with effect.  Fortunately, the necessity for
doing so did not exist, for the boys at the same moment recognized
the red man as their friend Deerfoot, who walked forward smiling and
pleased, carrying his bow and gun.

"My brothers did well," he said in his quiet way; "but they did not
hasten as does the deer when the hounds are on his trail."

"We could not have hurried more than we did," replied Jack Carleton,
taking the hand of the youthful warrior; "a little more haste and
both of us would have broken our necks."

"Dot ish so," added Otto, emphatically; "I sot down on dis log to
dinks if I couldn't run fitstery but I couldn't.  What for you keep
whooping all the time like a crazy person?"

"Deerfoot wished to see his brothers run, for the red men are
looking for them."

"I've no doubt of that, and the wonder to me is how you managed to
give them such a scare that they scattered and left us a chance to
dig out."

"The wicked flee when no man pursueth," was the apt quotation of the
extraordinary youth, who was so fond of studying his Bible.  "But
their fright will not last long."

"Such being the case we must not tarry."

The Shawanoe acted as though he did not intend to enter the canoe
with them, seemingly having some object in remaining on the Kentucky
side; but he changed his mind, probably concluding that his services
were still needed by his friends.

He motioned to Jack, who stepped into the boat and picked up one of
the paddles, Otto having done the same.  Deerfoot leaped lightly
after them, the impulse carrying the craft fully a rod from shore.
He laid down his gun and bow, and, seizing the third paddle, made
such a powerful sweep through the water that the others almost lost
their balance.  They essayed to help him, but he asked them with a
smile to cease and leave the management of the boat entirely to him.

"We might as well," said Jack, "for we shall only hinder you."

"Dot ish de same as I doesn't dinks."

A few strokes sent the canoe well out from the land, and the
Shawanoe still plied the paddle with extraordinary skill; but, as he
left the shore, he knew that in one respect the danger of himself
and companions was increased.  If their enemies were anywhere along
the Mississippi, with a suspicion of the truth, they could not fail
to detect them.

It proved as he suspected.  Several whoops echoed from a point a
short distance below, and the quick eye of the leader caught sight
of the Miamis and Shawanoes on the bank.

"Down!  Down!" he said, excitedly; "let my brothers lower their
heads or they will be killed."

Both Jack and Otto extended themselves flat on the bottom of the
boat, but Deerfoot remained upright, plying the paddle with might
and main.  He headed out in the stream, and used every effort to get
beyond reach of the rifles of his enemies.

"Why don't you duck your head, too?" demanded the alarmed Jack;
"they can hit you as easily as us."

But Deerfoot had his eyes on the party and did not mean to throw
away his life.  He saw there were four red men who stood together on
the very edge of the wood.  When two of them raised their guns and
sighted at him, he dropped like the loon, which dodges the bullet of
the hunter by the flash of his gun.

A couple of reports sounded like one, and the three on the bottom of
the canoe heard the bark fly.  Both balls had pierced it, entering
one side and passing out on the other.  The weight of the occupants
caused the boat to sink sufficiently to protect them, so long as
they remained flat on the bottom.  One of the bullets was aimed so
low that it struck the water, ricocheting through the bark and
bounding off in space.  The other went within an inch of Deerfoot's
figure, he being slightly higher than either of the others.

The echoes of the guns were ringing through the wood, when the
Shawanoe straightened up and dipped the paddle into the waters
again; but he had time for only one sweeping stroke when down he
went once more, barely in time to escape the third shot.

Before using the paddles, he raised his head just enough to peep
over the gunwale.  He saw the three warriors deliberately reloading
their weapons, while the other was waiting for his target to present
itself.  There were two others, who had been drawn thither by the
calls of the first party.

"I dinks maybe I can does somedings to help," said Otto, timidly
looking over the side of the craft; "mebbe I sees--mine gracious!"

The gun which was fired just then sent the bullet, as may be said,
directly under the nose of the German, who lowered his face with
such quickness that the whole boat jarred from the bump against the
bottom.

"Deerfoot, won't it be a good thing to send a shot at them?" asked
Jack; "it seems to me they would not be quite so ready with their
guns."

The Shawanoe was evidently of the same mind.  He had the choice of
two weapons, and need it be said which was the one selected?

Standing erect in the canoe, he fitted an arrow to the string with
incredible dexterity and launched it with a speed that rendered it
almost invisible.  The distance caused him to elevate the missile
slightly, but the aim of Simon Kenton or Daniel Boone, with his
long, trusty rifle, could not have been more unerring.

The red men on shore were well aware of his amazing skill, and they
lost no time in adopting the dodging tactics.  The instant the form
of the graceful young warrior was thrown in relief against the sky
and wooded shore, they bounded behind the nearest trees, peering
forth like frightened children.

The movement saved one life at least, for the winged missile which,
a second later, whizzed over the spot where they had been standing,
was driven with a force that would have caused it to plunge clean
through the body of any one in its path.

Deerfoot remained erect in the canoe until the shaft had landed,
when he gave utterance to a defiant shout; sat down, and
deliberately took up the paddle again.

It will be borne in mind that the yellow current of the Mississippi
was swollen by freshets near its headwaters, and the canoe not only
danced about a great deal, but was borne swiftly downward, seeing
which the Indians hastened in a parallel course, with the purpose of
holding it within range.  Furthermore, other red men continually
appeared at a lower point.  It is within bounds to say that there
was not one who did not understand the stratagem by which the young
Shawanoe had outwitted them, and there was no means within their
reach which they would not have put forth to revenge themselves upon
him.

Within a brief space of time the guns of the warriors began popping
from so many different points that Deerfoot dare not attempt to use
the paddle.  The blue puffs of smoke were so near that it would have
been fatal to expose himself to the aim of his enemies, but, unless
the canoe could be propelled still further from them, it was likely
to be riddled by the converging fires.

"Things are in a bad shape," remarked Jack Carleton, afraid to raise
his head a single inch, for the boat rode most uncomfortably high;
"we must do something, and yet what can we do?"

Deerfoot made no answer; his fertile brain had extricated other
parties from more critical situations than the one in which he was
now placed, and he was quick to decide upon an expedient for doing
the same in the present instance.




CHAPTER XVII

THE LOUISIANA SHORE


Deerfoot threw himself over the side of the canoe into the river,
holding fast to the gunwale with one hand and keeping the boat
between him and the Indians on shore.  With the arm which was free,
he swam toward the Louisiana side, towing the craft after him.

While it seemed absolutely necessary that something of the kind
should be done, yet the reader will perceive that the course of the
Shawanoe was extremely perilous, not only for himself, but for his
friends whom he was so anxious to benefit.  His removal from the
canoe caused it to ride higher, and thereby exposed them to the
bullets that were continually skipping about it.  Deerfoot himself
was forced to keep his shoulders at such an elevation that he was
liable to be perforated by some flying missiles, but he increased
the distance between himself and enemies with greater speed than
would be supposed.

"I dinks dis ish good style," said Otto to Jack, who moved his head
so as to see what he was doing.  The sagacious German had gathered
the three paddles so they were added to that side of the craft which
served as a partial shield against the shots from the shore.  The
implements were so arranged that the lad felt safe against harm,
unless the boat should turn half way round before he could
accommodate himself to the changed condition of things.

"It is a good idea," said Jack, admiringly, as he hastened to avail
himself of the defense; "I don't believe one of their bullets can
pierce our shield."

Something cold made itself felt through the clothing of the young
Kentuckian, where his hip pressed the bottom of the canoe.  Groping
with his hand he found it was water, which he saw bubbling through a
bullet-hole that was forced below the surface by the vigor of
Deerfoot's arm.  The opposite side of the boat was lifted
correspondingly high, so that the sunlight shone through.

It will be understood that the conditions prevented the Shawanoe
from towing the boat directly across the Mississippi.  The swift
current rendered a diagonal course necessary, and even that could
not be pushed with enough power to prevent the party drifting down
stream.

The red men kept up a desultory fire, but it was less frequent and
manifestly less hopeful than at first.  They could not but see that
the craft was steadily passing beyond range, and the chances of
inflicting injury grew less every moment.  Soon the firing ceased
altogether.

A moment later, the dripping form of Deerfoot flipped over the
gunwale again, diffusing moisture in every direction.  Without a
word, he seized the paddle and plied it with his old-time skill and
vigor.  He looked keenly toward Kentucky, but saw nothing of his
enemies: they must have concluded to withdraw and bestow their
attention elsewhere.

But, convinced that they were still watching the course of the
canoe, he again rose to his feet, and, circling the paddle over his
head, gave utterance to a number of tantalizing whoops.  His enemies
had been outwitted with such cleverness that the youth could not
deny himself the pleasure of expressing his exultation in that
characteristic fashion.

When Jack Carleton discovered the water bubbling through the
bullet-hole in the side of the canoe, as though it was a tiny spring
that had just burst forth, he was afraid it would sink the craft.
He inserted the end of his finger to check, in some measure, the
flow; but Deerfoot, observing the act, shook his head to signify it
was unnecessary.

"My brothers shall reach land," he said.

"I have no doubt we shall, since you are using the paddle again, but
a little while ago it looked as though the land we were going to
reach was at the bottom of the river.  Deerfoot," added Jack, with a
smile, "they have punctured this boat pretty thoroughly.  I cannot
understand how it was we all escaped when the bullets seemed to be
everywhere."

"The Great Spirit turned aside the bullets," said the Shawanoe.

"No he didn't," was the sturdy response of Jack; "I acknowledge His
mercies, which have followed us all the days of our lives, but that
is not the way He works.  You know as well as do I, that if yon get
in the way of a Shawanoe or Miami rifle, you will be hit unless yon
are very quick to get out of the way again; but for all that," the
Kentuckian hastened to add, noticing a reproving expression on the
countenance of his dusky friend, "my heart overflows with gratitude
because we have been saved, when there seemed not the first ray of
hope for us.  The bullets came near, but none touched us."

"I dinks different," was the unexpected remark of Otto, who,
assuming the sitting position, took off his cap, and, after fumbling
awhile through his shock of yellow hair, actually found a ball,
which he held up between his fingers.

"Vot don't you dinks ob him, eh?" he asked, triumphantly.

The amazed Jack took the object and examined it.  No need was there
of doing so; it was a rifle ball beyond question.

"How in the name of all that's wonderful did that get into your
hair?" asked his friend.

"I 'spose he was shot dere, and my head was too hard for it to pass
through, so he stops, don't it?"

The canoe was so close to shore that Deerfoot stopped paddling for
the moment and extended his band for the missile.  He simply held it
up, glanced at it, and then tossed it back to Otto with the remark:

"The head of my brother is thick like the rock, but the ball was not
fired from a gun."

With a bewildered expression, as though some forgotten fact was
beginning to dawn upon him, Otto laid his cap in his lap and began
searching through his hair with both hands.  A moment later, his
face beamed with one of his most expansive smiles, and he showed two
more rifle-bullets that had been fished from the capillary depths.

"Yaw, I forgots him; I puts dem pullets in mine hat yesterday and I
dinks dey was lost; dat is looky, ain't it?"

"I don't see anything particularly lucky about it," said Jack, who
suspected that much of the lad's stupidity was assumed.  A healthy
youngster never fails to have the organ of mirth well forward in
development, and the promptings of Otto's innate love of fun seemed
to have little regard for time, place or circumstances.

The American Indian is probably the most melancholy of the five
races of men; but even he is not lacking in the element of mirth
which it is maintained is often displayed by dumb animals.

When Deerfoot heard the explanation of Otto, he did not smile, but
with a grave expression of countenance gave his entire attention to
the paddle in his hand.  The German sat with his back toward the
front of the canoe, the other two facing him, the Shawanoe being at
the rear.  The shore was only a few rods away, the Mississippi being
much less agitated at the side than in the middle.

Without any display of effort, the warrior used the long paddle with
all the power he could put forth.  Very soon the craft attained a
speed greater than either of the pale faces suspected.

"No," repeated Jack Carleton, "I can't see where there is any
special luck in finding the bullets in your hair; I shouldn't be
surprised if they had been there for a week.  You must use a very
coarse-toothed comb."

"My brother uses no comb at all," suggested Deerfoot, in a solemn
voice, from the rear of the boat, which was speeding like an arrow
over the water.

"Now you have struck the truth," laughed Jack.

Otto rose to a stooping position, steadying himself as best he
could, and extended his hand to shake that of the Shawanoe, as proof
that he indorsed his remark.  He placed a hand on the shoulder of
the Kentuckian to steady himself, for he knew that it is a difficult
matter for one to keep his balance in such a delicate structure as
an Indian canoe.

"Deerfoot ish not such a pig fool as he don't look to be, somedimes
I dinks he knows more nodins dan nopody; den van he h'ists sail in
his canoe and sails off mitout saying nodings to nopody, den I don't
dinks."

Otto Relstaub had reached that point in his remark, when the bow of
the canoe arrived in Louisiana.  It struck the shore with a violence
that started the seams through the entire structure.  The author of
all this of course kept his seat, for he had braced himself for the
shook.  At the same time he caught the shoulder of Jack Carleton, as
if to hold him quiet, but it was all pretense on his part.  There
was no "grip" to his fingers, and Jack immediately plunged forward,
his head bumping the bottom of the boat with a crash.

As for Otto Relstaub, the consequences took away his breath.  As he
was trying to stand on his feet, he had a great deal more of falling
to do it than his friend.  He did it most thoroughly, sitting down
with such emphasis that the side of the canoe gave way, and he
continued the act on dry land, being stopped by a small sapling in
his path.

Otto whirled over on his face, and scrambling to his feet, stared
around to learn the extent of the calamity.  He gathered up his gun
and hat, and then, stooping, passed his hands over the bark and
attentively examined it.

"I dinks it ish split a good deal mit my head," he remarked, with a
grave countenance.

Meanwhile, Jack Carleton had regained his upright position and
shaken himself together.  When he saw Otto in an inverted position,
he broke into hearty laughter, hastened, no doubt, by the fact that
Deerfoot was shaking from head to foot with mirth.  His black eyes
glistened with tears, caused by his amusement over the performance
of the German.  He was laughing all over, though he gave out not the
slightest sound.

As for Jack Carleton, he chuckled and gurgled with a noise like that
of water running out of a bottle, while the main victim of all this
merriment was as solemn as an owl.  After rubbing and adjusting
himself, as may be said, he turned slowly about and gazed inquiringly
at his friends in the boat, as if puzzled to understand the cause of
their emotions.

"Vot ish dot you seem to laugh mit?" he demanded, in an injured
voice; "I see nodings."

When the others had somewhat recovered from their mirth, Otto began
laughing with scarcely less heartiness than they showed.  The absurd
occurrence seemed slow to impress itself upon his consciousness.

Deerfoot did not allow himself to remain idle many minutes.  The
fractured front of the craft being immovably fixed in the bank, he
leaned his head over the side and washed the paint from his face.
He disliked to disfigure himself in that fashion, though he always
carried the stuff with him, to be used in such an emergency as has
been described.

The blanket stolen from him had been carried away by one of the
warriors, so that Deerfoot held only the rifle and ammunition in the
way of a reprisal; but they were more than sufficient to replace the
property he had lost, and he had no cause for complaint.

Stepping on solid land again, with the water dripping from his
clothing, the handsome warrior stood erect, and looked at Kentucky
across the "Father of Waters."  Instead of the villages and towns
which now grace the locality, he saw only the lonely woods
stretching north and south until lost to view.

But he knew enemies were there, and the keen vision of the youth was
searching for them.  They must have become discouraged over what had
taken place, for not the first sign of the red men could be discerned.
They seemed to have "folded their tents," and stolen off as silently
as the Arabs.

But far down the Mississippi, a canoe put out from the Kentucky side
and approached the opposite bank.  It kept out of sight until
Deerfoot the Shawanoe had withdrawn, and then it advanced with the
care and stealth of the trained Indian on the war-path.

The craft was full of Miamis and Shawanoes, armed to the teeth, and
impelled by the greatest incentive that can inflame the passions of
the American Indian--revenge.




CHAPTER XVIII

ON THE LOUISIANA SHORE


At last the little party were across the Mississippi.  The Indian
canoe, so injured that it was useless until repaired, was pushed
back into the turbid current and went spinning down the river,
sometimes bumping against the bank and then dancing further from
shore, until striking broadside against a nodding "sawyer," it
overturned, and thereafter resembled an ordinary log, on its way
toward the Gulf.

It was the first time that Jack Carleton had placed foot on
Louisiana soil, and he stood for a moment gazing backward at
Kentucky, amid whose confines he was born and beyond which he never
strayed, except when on an occasional hunting excursion into Ohio.

"I wonder whether I shall ever tread those forests again," he said
to himself; "I can't say that I'm anxious to do so, for there have
always been too many Indians for comfort.  They killed my father and
broke the heart of my mother.  No, Kentucky, good bye," he added,
turning his face toward the west, with a feeling that in that
direction lay his future home.

Meanwhile Deerfoot and Otto took but a few minutes to prepare for
their journey.  The Indian having lost his blanket, held only the
rifle and ammunition by way of superfluous luggage, and it could not
be said that his companions were unduly burdened, since the runaway
colt had relieved them in that respect.

Deerfoot slung his long bow back of his shoulders, as he was
accustomed to do when he wished the unrestrained use of both arms,
and carried the rifle as the others did theirs.

The belief obtained with all three that in leaving Kentucky they
bade good-bye to most of the personal peril to which they had been
subjected.  The reader knows that that section was ravaged by the
fierce Shawanoes, Miamis, Hurons and other tribes who were
implacable in their hostility to the white men, and who did so much
to give it the name of the Dark and Bloody Ground by which it was so
long known.  There were thousands of red men ranging through the
immense province known as Louisiana, and the crack of the hostile
rifle, the war-cry of the dusky chieftain, and the shock, of mortal
combat marked the meeting of the races, whether on the clearing, in
the forest, or in the lonely defile in the mountain.

In that section to which I have referred more than once, as now
bearing the name of Missouri, the fighting between the whites and
Indians was much less than on the eastern bank of the Mississippi.
It will be understood, therefore, why, when the little company of
friends stood on the western shore, they felt much less concern than
while on the other side.

Less than two days' tramp to the westward lay the young settlement
where dwelt the mother of Jack Carleton, the parents of Otto
Relstaub and a dozen other families who had emigrated thither from
Kentucky.  Far beyond and to the southward among the wildest
fastnesses of the Ozark mountains the young Shawanoe had taken
refuge, where he felt secure against those of his race who hated him
with irrestrainable ferocity.

As it would require no great digression on the part of Deerfoot, and
as it was not to be supposed that time was very valuable to him,
Jack and Otto supposed he would go with them the entire distance to
the log cabin of Jacob Relstaub.  To their surprise, however, he
quietly said he could keep them company only a short time longer.

"I had no doubt you would be with us to the end," said the
disappointed Jack.

"It would make the heart of Deerfoot glad if he could go with his
brothers whom he loves; but he cannot."

"Vot ain't de reason?" asked Otto, unrestrained by the sense of
propriety which held the tongue of Jack silent.

"Deerfoot is called yonder," was the reply, pointing south of the
path which lay before the others.

They were silent a minute or so, in the hope that, he would explain
his meaning, bu

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