It was manifest from the manner of Deerfoot that he was disappointed because he did not meet Jack Carleton. He cast but a single glance around the apartment, which showed him his young friend was not present; then, as he gently seated himself, he looked into the pale face of the widow and said:

"Deerfoot sees not his brother."

"No; Jack and Otto set out on a long hunt this morning. They may be back in a few days and perhaps not for a fortnight."

"Have they gone to look for the horse that was lost?"

"Yes," answered the lady, with a smile; "I am ashamed to say they have; but I ask your pardon; have you had supper? Will you not permit me to give you to eat?"

She was about to rise when Deerfoot, who was resting his bow on the floor, while he grasped the center as though it was a cane, motioned with his left hand for her to retain her seat.

"The mother of my friend is good and kind, but Deerfoot cannot eat."

He appeared to be on the point of saying something more, but restrained himself. The mother was quick to perceive it, and a pang of dread stirred her heart.

"What were you about to say?" she asked, in her abrupt fashion, suspending the knitting which she was in the very act of resuming.

Deerfoot was too truthful to deceive her outright; but it is fair to presume he did not say all that was in his thoughts.

"Deerfoot is sorry his brothers have gone to look for the horse."

"Why?" quickly asked the mother.

"They cannot find him."

"Vy don't they finds him?" asked Jacob Relstaub, banging his cane again and glaring fiercely at the youth, as though ready to spring upon him.

Deerfoot looked calmly in the forbidding countenance, and asked, more directly than was his custom:

"Are you the father of my brother, Otto?"

"Yaw; of course I ish. He is one pad poy, as you ish de wust Injin dot effer vasn't."

Without the least visible excitement, and in the same deliberate monotone, Deerfoot still looking him straight in the face:

"The father of Otto is a dog; he has no heart. The Great Spirit hides his face with shame when he looks upon him."

"VAT!" roared Jacob, half rising to his chair and grasping his knobby cane with both hands, while he trembled with rage. "You don't speak dot vays to me and I breaks your head."

He suddenly straightened up, and all aglow with fury advanced upon Deerfoot, who placed his left hand on his knife, quietly arose and faced him, without speaking.



CHAPTER VIII.

A SURPRISE.

Jacob Relstaub was so accustomed to the undisturbed abuse of his son that he was struck almost speechless by the calm defiance of the Indian youth. When he saw the latter place his hand on the knife at his girdle, the German could not fail to know its meaning. He stopped short with his cane half raised and glared savagely at Deerfoot.

"You means to kills me, eh, don't it? Yaw,—I sees,—I sees!"

And shaking his head very fast, and muttering some vigorous words in his own language, he stamped towards the door, swung it open and passed out in the darkness. Deerfoot stood motionless, looking in the direction whence he had vanished, and then, without a word, sat down on the rude chair and looked toward Mrs. Carleton, seated as she was near the fire.

The good lady was terrified, but the incident was so brief that it was over before she fairly understood its full meaning and the ill-natured caller was gone.

"He is such a bad-tempered man that I'm afraid he will hurt you for this," said she, stepping hastily to the door, where she drew in the latch-string, thus locking the humble cabin against intruders. When she sat down, with her scared look and her words of misgiving on her lips, Deerfoot looked from the crackling fire into her countenance. As the yellow glow lit up his handsome features, they showed the faintest possible smile, which vanished the same moment it appeared. The matchless redskin must have appreciated the grim humor involved in the thought of his feeling any fear of the curmudgeon who had just gone.

Previous to that the young Shawanoe had glanced around the cabin, and like another Houdin, impressed every point in his memory. He noted the narrow windows through which a hostile shot could be fired from the outside. He did not believe the late visitor would proceed to that length, but he shifted his seat to a point several feet away, where, if Relstaub relied on his previous knowledge for his aim, no possible harm could be done.

Deerfoot made his change in such a quiet fashion, that his hostess had not the slightest suspicion of its meaning. She saw that he had simply moved closer to the fire. The space between her own chair and that of the visitor was such that there was no call for her to change her location: had there been the slightest, Deerfoot would not have permitted her to wait.

"My brother will hurt no one," said he in his quiet fashion: "he is a bad man; he has a good boy, Otto; Deerfoot calls him his brother, and will do much for him; but Deerfoot does not like his father."

"I was so afraid he would strike you with his cane," said the lady, still trembling over the remembrance, "and then you would have used your knife."

The smile was more pronounced than before, but the words were scarcely audible.

"He could not hurt Deerfoot and Deerfoot would not hurt him."

The lady fully understood his meaning, and it lifted a great fear from her heart that Jacob Relstaub would return, demand admittance, and attack her guest. True, he might do so, but she saw that in such an event the results would be farcical rather than tragical.

Deerfoot did not care to give any further thought to the despicable man. He had come to the settlement to visit Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub, and found they were absent on a singular hunt for the horse that had been missing fully a week. His interest lay in them, and especially in Jack. He had heard most of the facts from the mother, but he now questioned her further in his gentle way until not a particle of information was left for her to give.

The substance of that information has already been told the reader,—it being nothing more than the statement of their departure early that morning. The startling events which followed could not be suspected by the parent, who sat so quietly knitting and talking with the remarkable Indian youth on the other side of her hearthstone, as ignorant as she of the alarming situation in which both were placed.

But while so quiet in his demeanor, the wonderful brain of the youth was always busy during his waking hours. He could not feel that there was cause for fear on account of his friends, for, as has already been shown, that portion of the enormous territory of Louisiana was peopled by Indians much less vicious in their hatred than were those who made Kentucky their hunting-ground. A fierce party of Shawanoes had followed the little party across the Mississippi the previous week, and they kept matters moving in a very lively manner, as the reader learned long ago; but it was not to be supposed that any of those daring and skillful warriors were in the neighborhood, for it was not conceivable that a cause existed for their presence.

But a singular distrust took possession of Deerfoot. He could not account for it, except as he accounted for all inexplainable things, as being the direct prompting of the Great Spirit. Many a time the instinctive belief had come over him, and he had never failed to follow its guidance; the result in each instance proved that he did right, and he resolved to do the same in the present case, though it will be seen that he could take no real step forward until the coming of daylight.

"You will stay here until morning," said Mrs. Carleton, looking into the face of her visitor and speaking as though the matter was not at all in the nature of a question.

"Deerfoot may stay awhile, though he would rather sleep in the woods, where he can breathe the cool, pure air, and look at the stars, and listen to the whispers of the Great Spirit who watches over him when he is asleep or awake."

"You can sleep on Jack's bed, and he will be pleased, when he comes home, to learn that you did so, though he will be sorry that he was not here to make you welcome."

The Indian shook his head. He had no wish to lie on any such couch, and he had not done so since he was wounded and a prisoner in the hands of the white people.

"Deerfoot will sit here and read until he becomes weary; then he will lie on the floor; and when he awakes he will seek his brothers who are hunting for the horse that has long been lost."

Mrs. Carleton had been told by Jack how skillfully Deerfoot could read and write, and she now ventured the hope that he would use the Bible which lay on the table at the side of the cabin. She was on the point of rising to get it for him, when he motioned her to keep her seat.

"Deerfoot has his Bible with him."

And then he drew the tiny volume with its wooden covers from the interior pocket of his hunting-shirt, and shifted his position so that his back was turned toward the fire, whose glow passed over his shoulders and fell upon the printed page. This gave him all the light he needed, and, after rustling the leaves for a moment, he began, in his low, sweet monotone.

As may be supposed, he selected one of the chapters from Revelation, overflowing as it does with the most impressive grandeur and awe-inspiring glimpse of the mysterious life from whose portals no human being has ever turned back to whisper to the vast procession waiting to follow in his footsteps.

Mrs. Carleton saw that Deerfoot did not like her words of compliment and she therefore refrained. When he had finished, he closed the book and laid it away where he always carried it, and then the conversation went on in the same vein as before.

But the hour was later than that to which the good lady was accustomed, and, despite the singular interest of the interview, she began to feel a slight drowsiness. When she placed her hand over her mouth and yawned, Deerfoot asked that she should retire. She consented, and bade him good-night and withdrew.

He sat motionless until he was alone, when he once more drew out his Bible and resumed reading. The fire having smoldered, he stirred the sticks, turning the unburned ends among the coals, so that in a few moments the small room was filled with a brighter illumination than before. Leaning backward with the book in front of his face and his shapely legs extended in front, he studied with an interest more absorbing than was ever felt by the most devout novel reader. He seemed to lose all consciousness of time and place, and pored over the volume which to him was more precious than any treasure it is possible for the mind to conceive.

By-and-by the fire burned low again and the light grew dim. Though the youth might have continued the perusal much longer, he finally ceased and put the book away for the night. Then, folding his arms, he looked into the smoldering embers before him. Every one knows how such a scene feeds the fancy and how imagination will run riot, while sitting alone late at night, with the wind moaning outside, while he watches the curious, grotesque, and endless procession of figures which take shape and action before him. No one but Deerfoot himself could tell what thoughts took shape in his brain, but they must have been of a melancholy, serious nature, for he drew a deep sigh, muttered a few words in prayer, and then deliberately lay down in the middle of the floor. He lay on his side, with his arm doubled under his head for a pillow, but had nothing but the hard planking beneath and nothing except his own clothing above.

Deerfoot required little sleep, and within less than two hours after he had lain down, he opened his eyes and assumed the sitting position. The fire had burned so low that only a slight glow filled a part of the room, and he looked like some odd shadow, when he stepped silently forward and stirred the embers until they once more lit up the apartment. It was not yet morning, but he had concluded to wait no longer. He therefore picked up his bow and then, without making the least noise, opened and closed the door behind him.

The young Shawanoe stood for a moment when he found himself in the clear air on the outside. It was a bright starlit night, and, when he glanced reverently upward at the thousands of blazing orbs, he saw that it still lacked two hours of daylight. The rude cabins were dimly outlined, as they faced each other in two irregular rows, those only which were the furthest away being invisible. All were dark and silent excepting one. He noticed the gleam of light from the window, and thought it likely that some one was watching by the bed of sickness; but the thought had hardly come to him when he recalled that it was the cabin of the German Relstaub, who had left him in such a rage.

Deerfoot was still in front of the house of his friend, when the door of the cabin opened and the short, sturdy figure of Jacob Relstaub was outlined against the blazing fire and candle-light behind him. The truth was, he was so angered he could not sleep; he had tossed about until his rage became ungovernable, when he told his frau that he was going over to the widow Carleton's to chastise the rascally redskin that had dared to insult him to his face. The wife sought to dissuade him, but he was too angered to listen to reason; and, ordering her to stay in bed, he dressed, caught up his heavy cane, and plunged from the door of his home.

Deerfoot drew back until sure he could not be seen, when he calmly awaited the approach of the irate man. The latter stamped forward, banging his heavy cane on the ground and muttering to himself:

"Yaw, I preaks mine cane his head ofer—he talks to me—he calls me a rascal und eferydings vot I vas. I shows him——"

Just then, when he was close to the cabin, a figure emerged from the darkness, moving as silently as if it was a section of the gloom itself, and advancing straight toward him. It was the execrated young Indian, grasping his long bow in his right hand, and holding his tomahawk in his left, with his body bent and his head thrust forward.

"Oh, mine gracious!" gasped Jacob Relstaub, his knees shaking and his staff dropping from his trembling hand, "it ish him!"

He managed to twist his body around, so as to face the other way, and then he broke into a lumbering run for his cabin. He heard the sound of the swift moccasins behind him, and he ran as never before. His hat flew off, and odd quirps and pains developed themselves here and there in his frame, because of the unusual and violent exercise to which he subjected himself; but he kept forward, believing it was his only hope. Fortunately the run was brief, but when he reached the threshold he was in the last stage of exhaustion. He could not lift his foot high enough, and went sprawling headlong into the room, with a crash that startled his wife almost out of her senses.

Deerfoot paused a moment surveying the wreck and ruin he had caused, and then quietly shoved his tomahawk back in place. He had accomplished all he wished, and was satisfied. His old shadowy smile lingered on his face as he turned aside, and, making his way between the settlers' cabins, disappeared in the woods.



CHAPTER IX.

BY THE CAMP-FIRE.

Jack Carleton cried in the bitterness of vexation and disappointment. After his daring attempt to get away, and when hope was a-flutter within him, he awoke to the fact that his captors were trifling with him. He surveyed the array of gleaming visages, and was sure that the leader indulged in a distinct wink and grotesque grimace, as expressive of his views of the situation. Inasmuch as not one of the red men could utter a syllable of English, perhaps it was as well that they should have recourse to the sign language. Jack himself was humiliated beyond expression. Finding he was discovered, he had risen to his feet and faced his captors with the best grace he could, and that, it need not be said, was scant indeed.

The Indians grinned and grimaced while they walked around the lad, as if desirous of surveying him from different points. Jack dashed the tears from his eyes, and, compressing his lips, braved it out. He expected some indignity would be offered him, but there was none. This curious scene lasted only a few minutes, when the Indians gave the youth to understand that the journey westward was to be resumed. He was motioned to go forward, and was glad enough to obey, for his saturated clothes and his highly nervous condition set his teeth chattering and his body shaking as if with the ague.

The afternoon was well along, and no great distance could be passed over before night. Jack dreaded their arrival at the Indian village before another halt. He was hopeful that in the stillness and darkness of night he would gain a chance to steal away from his captors, while the chance of doing so when with the tribe itself would be much more difficult.

In one respect the wish of the youth was gratified. The party tramped along in Indian file, without the slightest pause, until the darkness began stealing among the trees. There was but the single warrior in front, the others following the lad. Suddenly the leader stooped down and paused. He was so close to Jack that evidently he meant to fling him over his shoulders, and the boy barely escaped such discomfiture. The others grinned again, and then the party appeared to fall apart and take different positions. Two vanished in the wood, while the others began hastily gathering dead limbs and decayed leaves. It seemed to Jack that less than three minutes had gone by when he saw the dim outlines of one of the warriors on his knees, striking the flint and steel, such as the pioneers, and, indeed, all persons, used in those days. The little lines of sparks shot back and forth, as they do upon the swiftly revolving emery wheel when the metal is pressed against it, and in a twinkling a tiny blaze was creeping among the little pile of leaves toward the top. The twist of flame darted in and out like the crimson tongue of some serpent, until it reached the air above, and in a very few minutes a roaring camp fire was under full headway.

Jack saw that it had been kindled against the shaggy bark of an oak tree, which swept upward like a sealed chimney until lost in the gloom above. The gleam of water a short distance off made known what he had not suspected; a stream—only a few inches in depth and breadth—wound by the spot, without giving forth the slightest ripple. Water, it may be said, is indispensable to such an encampment, and a party of aborigines scarcely ever halts at night without being near it.

As the glow of the fire spread, it fell upon the figures of the warriors, who looked grim and uncanny. Jack folded his arms and stood in the full glow, as though seeking a bath in the firelight. But for his recent experience, he might have been tempted to make a dash for liberty; but his clothing was still wet from that furious essay, and he was clearly of the opinion that the only thing for him to do was to make his captors believe (if it was possible) that he had given over all hope of getting away. Could he lull their suspicion, it would be a most important point accomplished; but the youth might well feel misgivings on that point, for it presupposed a stupidity on the part of the Indians contrary to what he knew concerning them.

It must not be thought that the boy believed he could make the warriors think he was content to remain their prisoner; that would have been the height of absurdity; but he did seek to convince them by his manner that he had given up the intention of running away, because he knew the attempt must be hopeless. Having failed so completely, he was not foolish enough to repeat the essay, when he was likely to anger the Indians to that point that they would punish him for it.

It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton remained standing with folded arms, while his captors were busying themselves around him. He looked at the flames as they crept up against the bark and scorched the rough coat of the massive oak, and he noted more than one furtive glance cast toward him. He pretended to see them not, but stood gloomy, sorrowful, and despairing.

Suddenly the dull crack of a rifle rang out, and Jack started. His first impression was that a party of white men or Indians had attacked them, but when he noticed the indifference of those around, he saw his mistake. They did not so much as look to the right or left, nor make any remark to each other. Evidently they expected something of the kind.

Within the space of five minutes, the two warriors who had left a short time before, reappeared. The foremost carried his rifle at a trail and had no game, but his companion, directly behind him, held by the feet a large wild gobbler, shot but a short time previous.

Jack Carleton could not but wonder how it was this dusky hunter was able to secure the bird on such short notice. The turkeys, at the time he started to look for them, must have all gone to roost among the trees. The gloom was such that it was almost impossible for the keenest eye to distinguish them. They may have given some evidence of their presence, but Jack was surprised over the success of the red men in obtaining supper before, as may be said, the fire could be made ready to roast it.

"Otto and I have hunted for hours in Kentucky where the game is as abundant as it is here, and we were not able to gain the first shot at any sort of game. There must be some secret about this performance which I don't understand, though Deerfoot, with his bow and arrow, never failed to meet with the same success."

The American Indian is by no means fastidious in his tastes, and the manner in which they handled the game would hardly have satisfied a party of modern hunters. Sometimes the red man half cooks his bird without bothering himself with plucking out the feathers, and again he doesn't take the trouble even to scorch his food. In the present instance, they ripped off the principal part of the feathers, removed the interior, and cutting the framework into several sections, laid them directly on the coals that were spread out to receive them.

They began the broiling or scorching operation at once, and the smell of the burning meat was of the most appetizing nature. Jack caught a sniff and it literally made his "mouth water," for despite his unpleasant situation, his appetite was such as every person in vigorous health is certain to feel at regular intervals.

"I wonder whether they mean to slight me," he suddenly asked himself with a feeling of dismay; "if they do, I don't know what will become of me, for I'm sure I never was so a-hungered in all my life."

But I hasten to say that the disaster which the prisoner feared did not come to him. Although the bird was unusually large, two or three of the warriors could have devoured it with ease. As it was, therefore, it afforded rather scant rations to the company, but Jack Carleton was remembered and received a juicy slice of the game, which could not have tasted better had it been hung up in the cold for a week and then cooked by his mother. Ah, what art shall ever furnish a sauce like that of hunger itself! The meal finished, the party disposed of themselves for the night. Their red clay pipes, with the long reeds for stems, were produced, filled with tobacco and lit from the fire in front of them. The blankets—which were anything but clean—were spread out on the ground and their owners assumed all sorts of lazy attitudes, puffed their pipes, and occasionally grunted a few words to each other.

As Jack had no blanket of his own he reclined on the leaves, which were comfortable as he could wish. He took pains to place himself as near the camp fire as he could bear, so as to show his captors he did not mean to attempt to get away.

Several times during the march and while at supper, Jack heard the leader addressed, as he believed, by name. He could not catch the precise word, but it sounded, as nearly as he could tell, like "Ogallah," which of itself resembles the name of a tribe of western Indians.

Jack waited till he had heard it again, and then, from the manner in which it was spoken, he was convinced it was the real name of the leader of the party,—that is as near as he could pronounce it.

By and by there came a lull in the disjointed conversation; the indolent red men were lolling on their blankets, and the leader was sitting cross-legged like a Turk, sending rings of smoke upward and watching them as they curled inward upon themselves and climbed out of sight. The dimensions of his mouth were that ample that he could have done the same on either side of the stem without removing it from between his teeth.

Jack Carleton looked straight at him for a few seconds, and then, imitating the guttural style of those around as best he could, pronounced in a distinct voice the single word—

"Ogallah!"

At that moment the chin of the chief was in the air and a procession of rings were tumbling over each other as they hastened from between his lips. He dropped his head as abruptly as if some one had struck him in the throat, and with his mouth still in circular shape allowed the rings to go to ruin, while he stared in amazement at the boy who had pronounced his name. The others showed as much wonder as did the chieftain. They also stared at the lad and then gave expressions to their feelings in their guttural, grunting fashion.

It was quite embarrassing to Jack Carleton, who blushed, looked confused, and then tried hard to appear as though he did not feel specially proud over his performance. The leader addressed some words to him, as if suspecting he understood his language after all, but Jack could only smile and shake his head to signify that he had already exhibited his full proficiency in the tongue of his captors.



CHAPTER X.

WAITING AND HOPING.

It would be hard to measure the effect of the little achievement of Jack Carleton upon the Indians who held him captive. He had pronounced the name of the chieftain with such clearness that every one recognized it. After all it was no great exploit, and it may have been the red men feigned a goodly portion of the astonishment they seemed to feel.

Jack did not make any more essays in that direction, and a few minutes later the vagabonds gave their principal attention to their pipes. One of them gathered an armful of brush and flung it on the fire; and another, rising to his feet, turned his back toward the blaze with his hands together behind him, as though the warmth was very pleasant. While he stood thus, he held the stem of his pipe in his mouth and looked absently at the boy, who could not see the face of the red man with much distinctness, as it was in shadow.

The fuel just thrown on the flames increased the warmth to such a degree that those who were the nearest shifted their position. The warrior who was on his feet stepped forward a single pace, and was still standing in his idle fashion with his hands half folded behind him, when a spark flew outward with a snap, and dropped down the neck of the unsuspicious red man. When he felt the burn, like the thrust of a big needle, he sprang several feet in the air, and began frantically clutching at the tormenting substance. The second or third attempt secured the spark, which clung to his hand, burning his fingers to that extent that he emitted a rasping exclamation, bounded upward, and by a particularly vigorous flirt of his hand freed it of the spark, which then expired of itself.

As I have said, no man has less humor in his composition than the North American Indian, and yet it is not by any means lacking in him. It assumes odd forms at times, and too often seems based on the physical suffering of some person or animal; but in the instance of which I am speaking, every one of the spectators was filled with mirth. The laughter shook them from head to foot, though with all its vigor it could not have been heard fifty feet away.

Jack Carleton had been so long depressed that something like a reaction came over him. He threw his head back and the woods rang with his hearty mirth as they never rang before. If there was any one else within half a mile, he must have wondered what all the uproar meant.

The cause of this amusement conducted himself very much like a civilized being. When he had rubbed the blistered spot on the back of his neck with the scorched hand, he glared angrily at the others, as if he saw no adequate cause for the unusual mirth; then when it broke out afresh, he made a weak attempt to join in, but failing to do so, he sullenly seated himself on the ground and looked as glum as a man meditating some wicked deed.

All at once, he turned toward Jack Carleton with such a fierce scowl that the boy was sobered. He believed with reason that the Indian was ready to leap upon him with his knife, punishing him in that dreadful manner for the provocation he felt toward the rest.

"I guess I have laughed enough," was the prudent thought of the boy, who straightway tried to look as if he sympathized with the red man for his slight misfortune.

Jack could not tell how well he succeeded in imparting a pitying expression to his countenance, but all disposition to laugh at the warrior's mishap had departed, and it is not improbable that the youth owed his life to the fact.

Although the overflowing mirth soon ended, there were a number of smiles on the faces of the warriors for a long time afterward, doubtless caused by the remembrance of the laughable performance earlier in the evening.

As the halt was for the night, the boy could hardly suppress his curiosity to see what shape matters would take. His strong hope was that he would be allowed to lie where he then sat, and that none of the warriors would arrange it so he could not change his position without awaking him.

It looked as if the prayer of Jack was to be granted. More wood was thrown on the fire, and the Indians took but a brief time to dispose themselves for slumber. The pipes were laid away, their guns examined, and each placed his weapon alongside of him, as though it was his intimate friend, from whose body he expected to obtain the warmth to keep him comfortable through the night. The savage who held Jack's gun was the only silent and reserved member of the party. The boy had heard him utter less than half a dozen words since the journey began. He was shorter and more squatty than the others, and his whole aim in life appeared to be a desire to please Ogallah, their chief. During the hilarity that reigned a short time before, he had grinned at his companion, but his mirth was less hearty than that of the rest.

The blankets were spread out on the leaves to their fullest extent, and then the warriors lay down, with their backs against each other and their moccasins pointing toward the fire. Then the covering was gathered up in front of each and flung over behind, where the folds interlapped, all that remained visible being a part of the black hair and the feathers in the crowns of the warriors, who seemed to find not the least difficulty in breathing with their heads swathed and bandaged up like a wounded limb.

Two couples were thus formed, who were separated by the space of six or eight feet, while a rod beyond burned the camp-fire against the shaggy trunk of the oak. The intervening area and some distance away was lighted by the flames which had eaten into the bark, until the solid wood beneath was charred and blackened by the heat. Ogallah, the chief, strode to a point midway between the fire and the couples, flung his blanket on the ground, and, pointing down to it, motioned to Jack Carleton to come forward and use it for his couch.

This was not the most agreeable order to receive, but it might have been much worse, and he obeyed with a readiness that looked genuine, though it could not have been entirely so. Jack nodded to the chief, as he took his seat and gathered the heavy folds around him, lay down on his right side, with his face toward the fire. Ogallah looked at the lad, whose knees almost touched his chin, and muttering to himself, walked back to the oak and sat with his back against it, his feet close to his body and his arms folded in front.

The chief was about one-fourth of the way around the oak from the camp-fire, so that the light revealed his entire left side, and his not very attractive profile, the whole being thrown against the blank darkness beyond, which shut the rest of his body from view. This proceeding indicated that Ogallah meant to act the part of sentinel while his warriors slept. He did not require the blanket, as would have been the case had he lain down to slumber, and he was magnanimous enough, therefore, to turn it over the captive, who would have been as well pleased never to touch it.

It cannot be supposed that the sachem and his warriors were in any fear of disturbance during the darkness, for they were in a country with which they were familiar, and they knew no dangerous enemies were within many miles of them. Had they met a party belonging to another tribe, more than likely the two, as a matter of principle, would have fallen upon each other like so many tigers; but none of their own race was hunting for them, and the white settlers were altogether out of the question. But the possibility of peril—remote though it might be—always hangs over the hunter, as indeed it does over us all, and the red men had no thought of trusting themselves to slumber without one of their number standing guard over the rest.

Sleep is so insidious in its approach that the sentry, as a usual thing, can only fight it off by incessant action. So long as he paces back and forth, his senses stay with him, but when he sits down a minute or so to rest, unconsciousness is sure to come. But Ogallah would not have assumed the easy position had he not felt sure of his self-control. It will be perceived that he had so placed himself that he had a perfect view of the camp, while he could see all that was possible of the surrounding gloom. If required, he could use the oak as a shield, and only a slight signal was needed on his part to rouse the sleeping warriors to instant wakefulness.

"Now, if he keeps awake," thought Jack Carleton, peeping through the folds of his blanket with his half-closed eyes, "it don't look as though there will be much chance for me, but if he drops into a doze I may slip off, and I won't need much of a start to get away from him."

The most natural query would be as to which was more likely to fall asleep—the Indian or the boy. Ordinarily a youngster like Jack would have been no match for the warrior, who had been trained to privation, suffering, hardship, self-denial and watchfulness from his earliest infancy; but it need not be said that the state of one's mind has everything to do with his ability to slumber and secure rest therefrom. Ogallah was mentally quiet; he had gone through a severe tramp, but no more so than had been the case hundreds of times, and he was accustomed to sleep at that hour. Such was the case also with Jack Carleton, but he was in a fever of hope and nervousness, which made it hard for him to hold his eyes partly closed in his effort to counterfeit unconsciousness. It was accepted as a matter of course that the four warriors who were lying down would speedily glide into the land of dreams, since such was their wish. Slight as is the noise which is sufficient to rouse a sleeping Indian, young Carleton would have felt no misgiving respecting those so near him; it was Ogallah, the sentinel chieftain, whom he feared.

"If he suspects that I mean to try something of the kind," was the conclusion of Jack, "he will not close his eyes any longer than to wink. But I'll watch him."

This task which the boy set himself was of the most trying nature. Had his mind been composed he would have fallen asleep within five minutes, but he was never more wide awake in all his life than he was two hours after he had lain down with the Indian blanket wrapped about him, and his face toward the camp-fire.

During that period, so far as he was able to see, the Indian had not moved so much as a muscle, and Jack himself had done very little more. Lying on his right side, with his arm doubled under him for a pillow, the cumbrous blanket enclosing him from head to foot, an irregular opening in front of his face allowed him to peer through the folds at the camp-fire, the oak, and the chieftain. The last still sat leaning slightly backward, with his shoulders against the trunk, his arms folded over his knees, while he seemed to be gazing off into vacancy. The heels of his moccasins remained close against the thighs, so that the form of the Indian bore quite a resemblance to the letter N.

The flickering light from the camp-fire disclosed as it did at first, the side and profile of the chieftain. Gradually the flames sank lower and there came moments when the sentinel was scarcely visible. Then, all at once, the fire would flare up for a few seconds and the figure would be in brighter relief than before. Again the eyes of Jack would rebel against the extreme tension to which they were subjected. The Indian, instead of remaining with his back against the oak, would seem to be hitching forward and upward in the most grotesque fashion. After bumping about in the air for a time, he would sink, still bumping, to the ground, where he would hitch backward to his place by the tree. Then the latter, instead of standing as motionless as a rock, showed signs of restlessness. It would begin by swaying back and forth until it too was waltzing in an unearthly fashion around the camp-fire. Again the surrounding gloom became studded with blinking stars, ogres and the most grotesque figures, which performed in an indescribable fashion. Darkness and light alternated, until the boy feared he was losing the power of vision altogether; but it will be understood that this was the natural protest of the eye against the painful and long continued strain to which it was subjected.



CHAPTER XI.

THROUGH THE FOREST.

Jack Carleton occasionally gave his eyes fitful rest by holding them closed for a few moments, but the tantalizing visions did not leave him even then. His arm became so painfully cramped under his head that he was compelled to shift his position; and he seized the occasion to readjust his limbs, which were also becoming wearied because of the long time he had held them motionless. He was prudent enough, however, to give the whole movement the seeming of a natural action done in sleep. He flung himself about for a few seconds, and then rolled back almost in the same posture, apparently resuming his heavy slumber.

But through the half closed eyelids, on which the dull glow of the camp-fire fell, he was peering at the faint outlines of the figure against the oak. He was sure Ogallah would start and rise to his feet, ready to check any steps on the part of the captive looking toward flight.

But not the slightest stir was made, and the astonished lad, with a painful throb of his heart, said to himself:

"He is asleep! Now is my chance!"

It seemed to be too good to be true, and yet it certainly had that appearance. For some time past, Jack had known from the regular breathing of the figures near him that the couples wrapped up in their blankets were unconscious. Certainly there could be no doubt about the one who had been burned by the spark of fire, for he snored amain, like the "seven sleepers."

It is at such times that one's senses are wonderfully acute, and Jack Carleton not only saw but heard with unusual keenness. With his ear close to, but not touching the ground, he distinctly caught a rippling sound in the streamlet which flowed so near. The fact that he heard it was proof that it was caused by some "foreign interference," since it was entirely different from the slight rippling noise along the banks.

The first thought of Jack was that it was Deerfoot come to his rescue, and he could not but think how completely he would be master of the situation, should he suddenly rise to his feet in front of Ogallah and give him to understand he was not to move or speak; but a second thought destroyed the hope. It was exceedingly improbable that the young Shawanoe was within a score of miles, but while it was possible that he might be hunting somewhere in the forest, it was incredible that he would have betrayed his presence near camp in the manner named.

Jack had barely reached this correct conclusion, when, peering at the figure of Ogallah, as it was faintly shown, he caught the gleam of the eyes of a wild beast just beyond, and in a direct line with the chief. The eyes were large, round and quite close together, with that phosphorescent, flickering glow often shown by animals when the light is faint.

"That will settle the question whether Ogallah is asleep or not," said the boy, watching with an intensity of interest which cannot be described.

Whatever the nature of the animal, he was evidently on a reconnaissance, and had no purpose of venturing closer until satisfied the path was clear to do so. It must have been that he cared very little one way or the other, for while the two orbs were glaring upon Jack, they vanished with a suddenness that suggested that some one had seized his tail and flung him back into the gloom from which he first emerged.

It was incredible, too, that the chief should have sat quiet and motionless with a wild beast so near him, unless he was asleep, but the possibility of being mistaken after all, kept Jack from stirring for fully a half hour longer.

The time seemed much later than it really was, when the boy rose on his elbow and hesitated, while he looked intently around and listened for the slightest sound. He glanced right and left at the figures shrouded in the blankets, but they might have been so many dead men. He could barely discern their outlines in the gloom, for the fire was slowly, but steadily, sinking. Several times he had asked himself whether it would not be wise to wait until it died out altogether, but he was too strongly convinced that the night was nearly gone, and he would need every minute in which to widen the distance between him and his pursuers.

"No," he murmured, "it won't do to wait another second."

He was on one knee, with his hand pressing the ground, when the largest stick on the fire burned in two in the middle, and the larger portion rolled back and in front of the chief. The disturbance caused it to flare up for the moment with a glare which revealed the figure of Ogallah more distinctly than at any time since he had taken his position.

Jack Carleton paused in his painful movement and became like a figure cut in marble, staring straight at the warrior brought into such unexpected prominence. As he did so, he saw that Ogallah was not only wide awake, but had turned his head, and was looking straight at him. The cunning fellow had not slept a wink from the moment he took his singular position. He had noted the wolf which ventured close enough to take a peep into camp, but, well aware that there was no danger, and convinced also that his captive was awaiting the chance to steal away, he held himself as rigid as iron until such an attempt should be made.

Poor Jack almost fainted in a collapse of despair. He saw that his captors had trifled with him from the beginning, and with a sigh of utter wretchedness, he dropped back on the ground, feeling that it was worse than useless for him to expect or hope to outwit those cunning children of the forest.

Reaction followed, and the lad speedily sank into a deep slumber which lasted until the sun had risen and the party had broken camp and were ready to resume their journey. Even then it was necessary for Ogallah to thrust his moccasin against him before he opened his eyes and stared confusedly around. The sight of the warriors who stood ready to move, recalled Jack to his hapless situation. He rubbed his eyes, and sprang to his feet, and walking to the streamlet lay down, took a draught of the cool, refreshing water in which he bathed his face, wiping it off with his handkerchief, and then turned about to signify that he awaited orders.

He wondered that no signs of breakfast were to be seen, and at first suspected that his captors had partaken while he slept, but afterward concluded that like all their people they were anything but regular in their meals, especially when on the tramp.

Without any ceremony, the journey was taken up, Ogallah again walking at the head, with the other four at the rear of the boy. They adopted their favorite custom of walking in Indian file, each warrior stepping in the tracks of the one in front. Jack was wise enough to adhere to the practice, so that had any one sought to follow the party, he would have noted but the single trail, though a skilled red or white man would have been quick to discover the precise number of the company.

"We have traveled a good many miles since yesterday noon," thought Jack, "and it must be that we are not far from the Indian village. If that is so, it won't do for me to make any other attempt to run away. Ogallah knows I am anxious to go, for he saw me try it twice, and he will take good care that I don't try it again."

Still, while taking this sensible view of the matter, Jack Carleton compressed his lips with the resolution that he would not throw away a single chance. If it should prove that many miles still lay before them and that several nights were to be spent on the road, he meant to do his utmost to give his captors the slip.

The journey assumed the most monotonous character. It was simply tramp, tramp, without the least rest or variation. Jack was sure he had never seen such sameness in the forest, lasting mile after mile. There were the towering trees, their leafy branches interlocked overhead, the same array of shaggy columns of bark, spreading limbs and sparse undergrowth. Sometimes Ogallah would step so rapidly that a branch which he brushed from his path would swing back and switch the lad in the face, and once or twice a running vine would be uprooted by a vigorous fling or kick of the foot.

But all this time the squat figure of the chief advanced like a machine. Jack noticed the swing of the muscular arms, the play of the legs and the occasional slight turning or ducking of the head. The straggling black hair, with the painted eagle feathers drooping like the plume of a lady's hat, the blanket slung loosely over the shoulders, the fringed hunting shirt and leggings, the faded moccasins, so soft that they spread out of all manner of shape when the weight of the body rested on them:—all these and much more were impressed upon the mind of the boy with a distinctness that he was certain would last him all through life.

"My gracious!" thought he, "they have come from a long distance; what could have taken them down near Martinsville and so near the Mississippi? I wonder whether it is possible the tribes who live on this side the river ever cross over to look at the country on the other shore. It would not be strange if they did so, but it don't seem like an Indian to do that sort of thing. Can it be these warriors have their hunting grounds away out toward the Rocky Mountains? If so, I shall have a fine time in finding my way back home."

The youth did not allow himself to consider the possibility that he would never have the chance to attempt the journey. The shuddering fear which first took hold of him was gone. Closely as the captors guarded him, he was persuaded they meant to inflict no personal harm—at least while on their way through the woods.

It was a serious question indeed as to what would be his treatment after reaching the Indian settlement. The American race is cruel, treacherous, and revengeful, and though the red men frequently hold prisoners for months and years, they more frequently subject them to torture and death. It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton was so anxious to make his escape from the party before they could arrive home.

Present discomforts often drive away future horrors, and, by the time the sun was overhead, Jack gave his principal thought to one thing—the question of food. He was a-hungered, and viewed with a mental groan the prospect of keeping on the march until sunset, before securing anything to eat.

"I have gone a full day many a time without food," he said, as he tramped along, "but it seems to me I never was as ravenous as now. I believe I could eat a pair of boiled moccasins, that is, if they had never been in use."

He was ashamed of his weakness, and resolutely refrained from giving any evidence of his suffering, but when he detected the pale green foliage of the fragrant birch, he ventured to step out of the trail, break off a branch and chew the bark, thus securing temporary relief from the gnawing discomfort.

High noon came, but no halt had been made. The lad had left the trail several times, and the warriors themselves were more careless about their own footsteps, but seemed to have no desire to partake of food.

The first shock of surprise came when the party suddenly emerged from the woods and paused on the bank of a deep, swift stream, fully a hundred yards wide. The current, like the smaller one, was yellow and roiled, and the boy looked upon it with a feeling akin to dismay. Recalling the indignity to which he had been subjected earlier in the day, he dreaded trusting himself in the water again.

"This time they may take it into their heads to drown me," was his thought.

But his nerves were not subjected to the trial. Nothing showed more clearly the wonderful woodcraft of the Indians than the fact that, after journeying many long leagues through the wilderness, without the slightest trail to guide them, they struck the stream within a hundred yards of the point at which they aimed from the first.

This was proven by the action of the warriors themselves. After talking together for a few minutes, two of them walked a short distance up the bank and drew a large canoe from under the shore, where they had left it when journeying in the other direction.



CHAPTER XII.

THE SIGNAL FIRES.

The canoe was made of bark, with the ends turned up in the usual fashion. Two long paddles belonging to it lay within, and were taken by the warriors, who paddled it down to where the party were in waiting. All stepped carefully inside, and the same Indians who brought it from its hiding place turned the prow toward the other shore and began swinging the paddles with the freedom and vigor peculiar to their people. Jack was the last to seat himself, and he held fast as best he could, dreading some of the rude jokes of his captors.

When all were in position, and the craft began moving, great care was necessary, for it sank to the gunwales, and a slight disturbance would be enough to overturn the frail boat. Although Jack feared such an occurrence, yet the Indians themselves were no more desirous it should take place than was he.

He naturally fixed his eyes on the line of warriors seated in front of him. All faced the shore they were approaching, and the couple using the paddles dipped first one end on the right and the other end on the left of the canoe. They put forth little exertion. Had they chosen to do so, they could have tripled the speed, though most likely an upset would have been the consequence.

The middle of the stream was not reached, when a small fish leaped out of the water in front and fell back again. Ogallah uttered an exclamation, and, reaching his hand over the side of the boat, held it several inches under the surface. The two Indians not using the paddles did the same, just as a party of young people will do when taking a pleasure sail over some calm lake.

Suddenly Ogallah gave a quick flirt of the submerged hand, flinging the sparkling water over all. Something flashed in the sunlight, and a plump fish, weighing fully a pound, dropped into the canoe. Almost immediately the other two warriors did the same, one of them securing a prize weighing as much as both the others. The fact was, the boat was passing through something like a school of fish, and the red men found no difficulty in capturing a number.

"That looks like dinner," thought Jack with a chuckle, as he also dipped his hand to grope for the finny delicacies. He had less than a minute to wait when something cold and smooth touched his fingers. He made a desperate clutch, sinking his arm to his elbow, but the fish was too quick, and darted beyond his reach, just as Ogallah landed another tempting one.

Several more were taken, but Jack could not succeed in closing his fingers quickly enough to keep the fish from slipping away. By the time the other side of the stream was reached, a good supply had been secured, and the boy forgot his sorrow in the pleasure of anticipating that his hunger would be fully satisfied.

Happily he was not disappointed in this respect, for, while the oarsmen were drawing the boat out of the water, the others were preparing the fire with which to cook the fish, that were speedily dressed. They were the "white" species common in the west, and when browned to a juicy crisp, formed as luscious a meal as any epicure could ask. Best of all, there was an abundance, and Jack Carleton ate until he wanted no more.

Having tramped so many miles since the rising of the sun, Ogallah and his warriors were disposed to enjoy a good rest.

Their pipes were relighted and they lolled about in the same lazy fashion, paying no special heed to Jack, who knew the unwisdom of making any effort to get away.

All this convinced the boy that the party had still a considerable distance to travel. Had they been in the neighborhood of their village, they would have pushed on without stopping. At any rate, they would not have paused to kindle the camp-fire and to cook a meal at mid-day.

"It must be," Jack said to himself, with several nods of his head, "that we are to spend another night on the road: if that is so, I'll make a break if I have to suffer for it."

These were vaunting words, but he was in earnest. Except for the hope thus renewed within him, the youth would have given way to the drowsiness which became quite common with the rest, but a line of speculation was started which kept his mind occupied during the full hour the party dawdled about the camp-fire.

At the end of the time named, the ashes were knocked from the pipes, several stretched their limbs and yawned, and the sullen-faced warrior who had been taking care of Jack's rifle, passed it back to him with some surly word, which most likely meant that thereafter the captive should bear his own burdens. The boy was glad enough to regain his weapon, but he smiled when he observed that it had no charge in it. His captors were determined not to put temptation in his way.

It took the company a considerable time to "shake themselves together." They straggled and kept irregular step, and finally, when they began ascending a slope, where the ground was much broken and covered with stones, they gave it up altogether. The ascent continued until they found themselves on an elevation several hundred feet high, and so devoid of vegetation that a view was gained which covered an area of hundreds of square miles in every direction.

Standing on this lookout, as it may be called, the Indians devoted a number of minutes to such survey. No employment just then could be more entertaining, and Jack Carleton adopted it.

The scene was too similar to those with which the reader of these pages has become familiar to need any lengthened reference in this place. It was green, billowy forest in every direction. Here and there a stream wound like a silver ribbon through the emerald wilderness, sometimes gleaming in the sunlight, and then disappearing among the vegetation, to reappear miles away, and finally to vanish from sight altogether as it wound its way toward the Gulf. At remote points the trained eye could detect the thin, wavy column of vapor motionless against the sky, a mute witness that beings other than those on the hill were stealing through the vast solitude in their quest for game or prey.

Inasmuch as Jack Carleton readily detected these "signs," as the hunter terms them, it followed they must have been noted by the Indians themselves; but they gave no evidence of any excitement on that account. It was natural that such evidences of the presence of other persons in the immense territory should present themselves.

But the youth failed to find that for which he specially looked. Observing the chieftain gazing earnestly toward the west, he did the same, expecting to catch sight of the Indian village where Ogallah and his warriors made their home. He descried a wooded ridge stretching across his field of vision, but not the first resemblance to village or wigwam could be discovered.

"He is not looking for that," thought Jack, "but is expecting some signal which will appear on the ridge."

One of the other Indians was peering with equal intentness at the same point, but the minutes passed and nothing presented itself. Jack joined in the scrutiny, but he could not succeed where they failed.

All at once the sachem seemed to lose patience. He said some vigorous things, accompanied by equally vigorous gestures, and then the whole party began hastily gathering wood. In a short while this was kindled and burning strongly. When the flames were fairly going, one of the warriors who had collected several handfuls of damp leaves by digging under the dry ones, dropped them carefully on the blaze. It looked at first as if the fire would be put out, but it struggled upward, and by-and-by a column of dense black smoke stained the sky like the smutty finger of some giant tracing a wavy line across it.



Then Ogallah and one of his men held his blanket spread out so as almost to force the thick smoke to the ground, but such was not their purpose. The blanket was abruptly lifted, then swayed in a peculiar fashion, the two moving in perfect unison, without speaking, and repeating their pantomime with the regularity of machinery, for the space of fully ten minutes.

The results were singular. The inky column of vapor was broken into a number of sections, as may be said, so that when viewed from a distance the figure was that of a black broad band of enormous height, separated by belts of colorless air into a dozen pieces or divisions, the upper ones gradually melting into nothingness. Besides this, so deftly had the red men manipulated the fire and blanket, that these divisions showed a peculiar wavy appearance, which would have excited wondering remark, no matter by whom seen.

"It is a signal to some one on the ridge yonder," was the conclusion of Jack, who watched the proceeding with much interest.

Having finished, Ogallah and the warrior threw the blanket on the ground, and the whole five gazed at the ridge miles away. For a time perfect silence reigned, and then one of the dusky watchers uttered an exclamation, to which the chief responded with a grunt.

While scanning the distant ridge, Jack detected a black brush of vapor climbing slowly above the trees. It broke clean off, and as it went on upward, was inclosed by clear air on all sides. But it was not long before a second, third, fourth, and fifth appeared. Parties were answering the signal of the chief in precisely the same manner that he made it. The only difference was in the number, of which there were only the five. Those, however, were sufficient, as the parties making it were well aware.

This aboriginal system of telegraphy, which has been in use from time immemorial, is still a favorite means of communication among the Indians of the West. More than once the news of the signing of some important treaty, or the war movement of tribes, has been flashed by means of signal fires from mountain top to mountain top over a distance of hundreds of miles.

The information given by the answering signal fire was satisfactory to the chief Ogallah, who resumed the journey at a leisurely pace, making no effort to walk in the close Indian file that he and his warriors did when further away from home.

"If we reach the village before going into camp," concluded Jack, "we must keep moving until after dark. The sun is setting and the ridge is still a good ways off."

It soon became manifest that the red men had no purpose of tiring themselves by walking. They were at the base of the ridge when they came upon a small stream which dashed down the mountain side with a musical plash, forming currents, eddies, and cascades, while in the depths of some pebbly pool it was as silent and clear as liquid mountain air.

The afternoon was more sultry than the early portion of the day, and every member of the company quaffed his fill from the refreshing element. Jack's heart gave a great bound of hope when he saw that Ogallah meant to spend the night there. He was strongly convinced that he would gain an opportunity to steal away during the darkness, which promised to be denser than on the previous night. Although the day had been clear and beautiful, yet the clouds gathered after the sun went down, and there were signs of a storm. Low mutterings of distant thunder and the fitful flashes of lightning showed the interchange of electricity between the earth and sky, though it might not develop to any great extent for many hours to come.

No hunt was made for game, and after the abundant meal earlier in the day, Jack could not complain if compelled to fast until morning. A fire was kindled precisely as before, a sturdy oak forming the background, while the others lolled around it and smoked their long-stemmed pipes.

When Jack Carleton was invited to retire to his couch by the sullen warrior, he obeyed as though pleased with the prospect of a full night's rest. Ogallah stretched out with one of his men, while the ill-tempered member sat down with his back against the tree, as though desirous of imitating his leader in every respect.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

"There's one thing certain," said Jack Carleton to himself, as he gathered the Indian blanket around his shoulders, like one lying down to pleasant dreams, "I can keep awake a good deal more easily than I did last night. I'm pretty tired, but I slept so much toward morning that it will be no trouble to go twenty-four hours without any more."

The temperature was milder than at that time, so that the lad found the thick blanket uncomfortably warm when wrapped closely around him. He flung out his feet and arms as a child often does with its bed coverings, and adjusted his body so as to keep his eye on the sentinel, without (as the captive believed) any suspicion of his intention.

The other couples sank into refreshing slumber within a few minutes after lying down, and it certainly was singular that the warrior who sat half revealed, with his back against the tree, should have continued as motionless as did the chief Ogallah the evening before. It was impossible that two scenes should resemble each other more closely than those named.

"I don't believe he can keep it up as long as the old fellow did. If he tries it, he will be dreaming, and when he and the rest awake, they will find I am miles off and going with might and main for home. My gracious! but I shall have a long distance to travel, and it will be hard work to keep out of their way."

Fixing his eyes on the form as it was shown by the flickering camp-fire, Jack prepared to watch with more patience than he showed in the former instance. The sound of the splashing brook and the soft stirring of the night wind were soothing to the tired boy. By-and-by his eyelids drooped, then closed, and his senses passed from him. Never was he sunk in sounder sleep.

Nothing occurred to disturb him, and he slept hour after hour, never opening his eyes until it was broad daylight and Ogallah and his warriors were astir.

Jack was chagrined beyond expression when he found what he had done, or, rather, what he had failed to do. The opportunity for which he had sighed so long had slipped irrevocably from his grasp. So convinced was he of this fact that he gave over all thought of escape while on the journey.

"The Indian village can't be far off, and I must now go ahead and take my chances. But this is getting tiresome."

The last remark referred to the absence of any preparations for breakfast. He had made no complaint the evening before, but it was a hardship to continue his fast. Inasmuch, however, as there was no help for it, he submitted without a murmur.

There was now no pretence of treading in each other's footsteps, but the party straggled up the ridge like a lot of weary pedestrians. No one seemed to pay any attention to the single captive, most likely because there was no call to do so. He might desire to make a break for liberty, but he could not go further than they were willing to permit.

The top of the ridge was marked by a bare spot, where some charred sticks showed a fire had been recently kindled. There could be no doubt that it was there the answering signal had been made to the call of Ogallah.

But looking down the western slope of the ridge, Jack Carleton's eyes rested on a scene more interesting than any that had met his gaze since leaving home. Less than a mile off, close to the shore of a winding stream and in the middle of a partially cleared space, stood the Indian village toward which his footsteps had been tending for nearly two days, and where he was likely to spend an indefinite captivity.

The stream was perhaps a hundred feet in width. It shone brightly in the morning sun, and the current was clearer than that of the river crossed the day before. It wound its way westward as far as the eye could follow it, flowing into a tributary of the Osage, thence to the Missouri, and so on to the Gulf of Mexico.

The Indian village numbered between twenty and thirty lodges, wigwams or dwellings as they may be called. Some of them were made of bison and deer skins, and were of irregular, conical shape; others were mere huts, covered with grass, leaves, limbs and dirt, while one or two were mainly composed of stones piled in the form of rude walls and roofed in the rude fashion described.

These primitive structures were scattered irregularly over a space of half an acre, which might be called a clearing, inasmuch as only a few stumps and broken trees were to be seen. But nothing in the way of corn or vegetables was growing, and the air of dilapidation, untidiness and squalor pervading the whole scene, was characteristic of the race, and was that which robs it of the romance which in the minds of many attaches to the name of the American Indian.

Viewed from the ridge, Jack could see figures moving to and fro in the aimless manner natural to such indolent people. There were children running and playing among the stumps and dwellings—half naked little knots of humanity, who in a few years would become the repulsive squaws or terrible warriors of the tribe. Three of the youngsters were having a high time with a canoe lying against the shore. They were splashing the water over each other, plunging into the stream and scrambling out again without regard to the wear or tear of their clothing, and playing all sorts of tricks on each other, while a half dozen playmates were standing on the bank laughing so heartily that a spectator would have found it hard to understand why the American race is so often described as of a melancholy temperament.

Now and then some squaw could be seen trudging along under a load of sticks, while more than likely her lazy husband was asleep within the wigwam. A half dozen warriors strolled off toward the woods, rifles in hand, and most likely with the intention of going upon a hunt. Just before leaving the clearing, one of them caught sight of the group on the top of the ridge. Immediately they swung their arms and sent several ringing whoops across as a salutation to their friends.

Ogallah answered, and he and his party moved down the slope toward their homes. Having saluted each other in this fashion, the warriors of the village speedily vanished in the wood. They must have known that the returning company had a prisoner with them, but it will be seen they felt no particular interest in the matter.

But if such was the fact respecting the hunters, it was far different with those who were left behind. The moment the five warriors emerged from the wood, with the captive walking among them, the whole village was thrown in a turmoil of excitement. Squaws and children rushed forward, men came to the entrances of their wigwams, and some strolled out to make a closer investigation of the matter.

It was a trying moment to Jack Carleton, for it may be said that he had discounted it during the preceding day. He forced himself to smile, and when the chattering, grunting, shouting crowd gathered around him so closely that he was forced to stop walking, he shook, so far as he could, most of the scores of hands that were pushed against him.

All this was well enough, but it was not long before their attention took an unpleasant form. Some of the half grown bucks either feigned or really were angered because Jack could not give them heed, and struck him with the flat of their hands about the chest and shoulders. The boy turned when the first blow was delivered, and the Indian indulged in a taunting grimace. Jack clenched his fist and was on the point of striking him in the face when his good sense restrained him. He needed no one to tell him the consequences of such rashness.

The attentions soon became so boisterous that Ogallah interfered. He flung the crowd right and left, commanding them to disperse, and then beckoned the youth to follow him toward a lodge near the center of the village. Jack was glad enough to do so, and was speedily relieved of annoyance.

The sachem conducted the boy to his own dwelling where none of the curious dare follow him, though the crowd gathered on the outside and peeped within, like so many persons seeking a free survey of a circus.

Suspecting that this was likely to be his new home for an indefinite time, Jack Carleton was quick to acquaint himself with the interior. The structure, as I have said, stood near the middle of the village, and was the largest of the collection. It is rare that an aboriginal building bears such resemblance to those made by the white men of the border, for the American race has never shown any aptitude in architecture.

Ogallah's house was a log cabin, perhaps twenty feet long by half as many wide. The logs were roughly dovetailed at the corners, but none of the numerous crevices were stopped by mortar or clay, and daylight could be discerned through many a rent, which in cold weather admitted the keen cutting wind.

A single opening served as a door. Aboriginal ingenuity could not pass beyond this rude contrivance, so having opened the way for ingress and egress, the builder was content to hang a bison skin as a curtain. This could be readily pulled aside by any one, and the door locked by fastening the corners. Windows are a sinful extravagance to the American Indian, and there was not one in the village to which Jack Carleton was taken. When the open door, the burning fire, the hole which answered for a chimney, and the numerous crevices did not give enough light for the interior, the occupants went outside to obtain it.

Having put up the four walls of logs and roofed them with branches, covered with leaves, dirt and grass, Ogallah was content to lean back, fold his arms and smoke his pipe in placid triumph. The floor was the earth, worn hard and smooth by the feet of the family, and the fire was kindled on the ground at the further end, where the vapor found its way through the irregular opening made for the purpose. There was nothing in the nature of a chair or bench in the place. Bison and deer robes formed the couches, and the pegs driven in the logs held blankets, bows, and furs of animals (most of the last, however, lying on the ground), leggings and other articles worn by the chieftain and his wife.

These two were the only occupants of the place previous to the coming of Jack Carleton. Ogallah was in middle life, and had been the father of but a single son, who died while yet a papoose. His wife was tall and muscular, evidently a woman with a strong will, and well worthy to be the consort of an Indian chief. She did not rush to her husband and embrace him the moment she caught sight of him. Indeed, she had not ventured outside the lodge, though she could not have failed to hear the unusual turmoil.

She would not have been human had she not shown some curiosity respecting her husband's companion. Jack doffed his hat and bowed to her with elaborate courtesy, after which he leaned his rifle against the side of the wigwam and folded his arms. The squaw surveyed him for a full minute, during which he stood as if awaiting her commands, and then, turning to her husband, the two held a short but vigorous conversation.

The wife must have been expecting him, for she was engaged in cooking some venison in the usual aboriginal fashion, and, to the great relief of the boy, the two were not kept waiting for their meal. Seating themselves cross-legged on the ground, the half-cooked meat was taken in their hands, and, with no other utensils than his hunting knife, each made his morning meal.

And so at last Jack Carleton was a captive among a tribe of Indians whose totem was unknown to him. Whether he was to remain with them until manhood, or whether he was to be put to death long before that period, were questions whose answers he did not dare try to conjecture.

His situation was a most extraordinary one, as every reader will admit. He knew of more than one instance where children who were captured when quite small, had become so attached to the rude ways and wild life of the red men, that they refused to go back to their own people when the offer presented itself, but it was too late in the day for such an experience to befall him.

And now, for a time, we must leave Jack Carleton to himself, while we give attention to other incidents which are destined to have a bearing on his fate.



CHAPTER XIV.

ON THE MOUNTAIN CREST.

The reader has not forgotten the encounter between Jacob Relstaub and Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, when the former plunged headlong through his own door in mortal fear that the tomahawk of the youthful warrior would be sent crashing through his brain; but, much as Deerfoot despised the German, he had no thought of visiting injury upon him. Shoving back the weapon to its place in his girdle, he therefore strode off in the forest, never pausing in his walk until the sun appeared above the horizon. He was then many miles from Martinsville, his face turned toward the southwest.

Throwing himself on his face, he quaffed his fill from a small, clear stream, whose current was only moderately cool, and then, assuming an easy posture on the ground, gave himself over to deep thought.

The question which he was seeking to answer was as to his duty. He had gone to the settlement to see his young friends, and learned that they had started some hours before on a hunting expedition. Such a proceeding was so natural, and, withal, so common, that any one expressing wonder thereat was likely to be laughed at for his words. The boys of the frontier learn to handle the rifle when much younger than either Otto Relstaub or Jack Carleton, and they were sometimes absent for days at a time without causing any misgiving on the part of their parents.

Why, then, should Deerfoot be perplexed over the matter, when even the mother of Jack expressed no fear concerning him?

Why, indeed? That was the query which puzzled the young warrior. It has already been said it was the custom of Deerfoot to follow a certain inexplainable intuition which often came to his help in his moments of doubt. In the present instance, something seemed to whisper that it was his duty to look after the boys, but the whisper was so low—as may be said—that he hesitated to obey it, led to do so by a doubt as to whether, after all, it was that instinctive prompting which hitherto had guided him so infallibly in many of his daring enterprises and undertakings.

It was characteristic of the warrior that, after spending a long time in such anxious thought, he should draw his Bible from the inner pocket of his hunting shirt, and begin looking through its pages for guidance. There were certain portions that were favorites of his, and, without searching, the volume opened to one after another of these places; but seek as much as he chose, he could find nothing that bore on the problem he wished to solve.

"The Great Spirit wills that Deerfoot shall settle the question for himself," was his conclusion, as he returned the treasure to its place.

It may as well be admitted that the principal cause of Deerfoot's hesitation cannot be given at this time. There was an urgent reason why he should make haste to the southwest, and he longed to break into his easy, loping trot, which he was able to maintain without fatigue from rise of morn till set of sun. But the same strange impulse which sent him into the settlement to inquire concerning his friends, still kept them in his thoughts.

But he was not the youth to torment himself in this manner, hour after hour, and he finally compressed his thin lips and muttered:

"Deerfoot will return in a few days, and then, if his brothers are still gone, he will hunt for them."

This was not a satisfactory conclusion, but he followed it with his usual promptness. He was in the very act of rising from the ground, when his quick ear caught a faint footfall. Like a flash he raised his head, and observed a noble buck approaching the water with the purpose of drinking from it. It was not to be expected that the animal had any fear of hunters in such a solitary place, and he came forward with a proud step, as though master of the wilderness.

The Shawanoe waited until he was within fifty feet, when the buck stopped short, and threw up his head as though he scented danger in the air. At that instant Deerfoot bounded to his feet as if thrown upward by a spring-board, and with a slight whoop, dashed straight at the animal, swinging his arms and jumping from side to side in the most grotesque fashion.

Few animals of the forest are more timid than the deer, which, like the bear, is found in almost every portion of the American continent. The buck with one swift whirl on his hoofs, faced the other way, and was off like an arrow, shooting between the trees, through the undergrowth, and bounding over obstructions as though they were not worth his notice. The ordinary hunter might have found time to fire one shot, when the game would have vanished like a bird on the wing, before he could reload; but the occasion was a good one for Deerfoot to display his wonderful fleetness, and he was in the mood to do so. He had made his gestures and uttered his cries for the very purpose of terrifying the animal into doing his utmost, and he did it.

With his head thrown back, so that his antlers almost rested on his back, he plunged forward with amazing swiftness; but when he had gone two hundred yards, he saw the same light, willowy figure almost on his haunch. He even flung up his arms and shouted again, as if urging him to a higher rate of speed. And such was the truth; Deerfoot was running as fast as the game, and he was able to run still faster.

The buck bounded up a steep slope, and with one tremendous leap cleared a craggy rock in his path. He had barely done so, when the young Shawanoe was after him, going over with a lightness and grace that showed no special effort. The pursuer was on his haunches, and the animal, with glaring eyeballs and a horrified sniff, seemed to bound off with the speed of the wind. But of what avail? The warrior was not to be shaken off. With a speed which none of his race could equal, it was only play for him to outrun the deer. Years before (as I have told in another place), Deerfoot, for mere sport, pursued one of the fleetest of horses, and kept it up hour after hour, until he ran down the steed. He was doing the same to the buck. There was not a moment from the first when he could not have launched an arrow that would have brought the game to the ground; he was near enough to drive his tomahawk into the neck, but he did nothing of that nature. Inasmuch as he was running the race, he meant it should be a fair one, and neither should take any advantage over the other.

What terrifying imaginings took possession of the buck when he awoke to the fact that it was impossible to escape the dreadful being clinging to his hips, cannot be understood by any of us, but that which followed, incredible as it may seem, is an indisputable fact.

The singular race was kept up for slightly more than a mile, during every fraction of which the fugitive put forth his highest possible effort. Such a terrific strain cannot fail to tell upon the most highly trained animal, and so, despite all he could do, the buck found himself unable to keep up his prodigious tension. He was losing ground, and he could not fail to know that escape was out of the question: he was as much doomed as if surrounded and driven at bay by a dozen hunters and their hounds. He was still running at his highest bent, when he suddenly deviated to the right, and, with shocking violence, plunged squarely against the trunk of a beech, and, falling over on his side, gave a few convulsive struggles and died. Beyond question, the buck, when awake to the fact that there was no hope for him, deliberately committed suicide by breaking his neck.

The young Shawanoe paused, and looked down upon the quivering form with feelings of pity.

"Why did he do that? Deerfoot felt too much sorrow to harm him; he only sought to show him he could run the faster; but he will run no more, and Deerfoot will eat."

The spot was suitable, and, within less time than would be supposed, the warrior was seated on the ground, deliberately masticating a liberal slice of broiled venison. Doubtless it would have been improved could he have hung it in a cellar or tree for several days, but it wasn't convenient to do so, and Deerfoot therefore ate it as he could obtain it, and was satisfied therewith.

No water was within reach, the Indian following the healthful practice of the wild animals themselves, of not partaking of drink while eating food.

The meal finished, Deerfoot did not conduct himself like one who was still in doubt as to the course he ought to follow. He had solved the question earlier in the day, and, though the conclusion he reached was not fully satisfactory, he resolutely forced aside all further thought respecting it, and gave his attention simply to that which was before him. His dinner required only a short time, when he resumed his journey, if such it may be termed. He walked with his usual noiseless gait, in which could be detected not the slightest weakness or exhaustion resulting from his terrific run.

The young Shawanoe was advancing toward the mountainous portion of the present State of Missouri. The Ozark range, or its spurs, cover one-half of that large State, and their recesses afford hunting grounds and retreats such as are surpassed by no other portion of the continent.

Deerfoot turned his footsteps toward a high promontory some miles distant. It was the most elevated among many others, and formed a landmark visible over a very extensive area. The youthful warrior did not hasten his footsteps, for there was no call to do so, but he steadily approached the mountain, up which he tramped in his leisurely fashion, until he paused on the very highest point.

The journey was long, and when he came to a halt the sun was far down the western horizon. The summit of the mountain was covered with rocks and boulders, with here and there a few scrubby pines. Nothing could be more unattractive than the broken, stony soil, but the view which was spread out before him who climbed to the top was enough to kindle the eye of a stoic, and make the heart overflow with love and awe toward the great Being who made it all.

But the eye can become accustomed to the grandest scenes, and, although Deerfoot leaned on the rock beside him, and allowed his keen vision to wander over the magnificent panorama, it did not cause an additional pulse-beat. When he had glanced at the mountains, the valleys between, the broken country, the forests, the diversified scenery in every direction, his gaze rested on another promontory similar to the one he had climbed.

It was several miles distant, in a directly southern course, and was nearly or quite two hundred feet higher than the one on which he stood. The latter, like those to which reference has been made, was of the nature of a ridge, while the one on which his eyes were fixed was a diminutive Teneriffe as to its form.

While the manner of Deerfoot indicated very plainly that he expected to see something out of the usual order of things, yet it looked very much as if he would have been pleased over his failure to do so. No painter could limn a more striking picture than that which was formed by Deerfoot, at the close of that beautiful spring day, when, as the sun was setting, he stood on the elevation and gazed across the intervening country.

His right elbow rested on the top of the rock, and his right leg supported the weight of his body. The lower half of the left leg was slung across the other, the toe of the moccasin touching the earth. The right hand dropped over the side of the rock, and lightly held the long bow which leaned against the same support. The posture was that of elegant ease, and the best calculated to bring out in clear relief the Apollo-like splendor of his figure. The luxuriant black hair streaming over the shoulders, the gaudy eagle feathers thrust in at the crown, the lustrous black eyes, the slightly Roman nose, the rows of colored beads around the neck, the dull yellow of the hunting shirt, the quiver of arrows behind the right shoulder, the red sash, holding knife and tomahawk, the gold bracelet on the left wrist, the fringed border of his hunting shirt about the knees, the brilliant fringes to the leggings, the pretty moccasins, and the shapeliness of form, limb and feature—all these made up the poetical Indian, which, sad to say, is almost as rare among his race as the black diamond is in nature.

But such was Deerfoot the Shawanoe.



CHAPTER XV.

THE RETURN AND DEPARTURE.

Easy and negligent as was the posture assumed by Deerfoot the Shawanoe, his eyes were never at rest. Resting for a moment on the promontory, they darted to the right and left down the valley, and even took in the shifting clouds in the sky above. But it was the peak which riveted his attention, and which was scrutinized with minute closeness until the gathering gloom shut it from sight.

It was not fairly dark when he kindled a fire on the very highest point, and then placing himself so far from it that the glare could not interfere with his sight, he looked out in the night. The darkness was such that nothing could be seen beyond his immediate surroundings, but he knew where to look for that which he expected and yet did not want to see. For fully an hour the Shawanoe held his motionless attitude, gazing as fixedly to the southward as ever an eagle stared at the sun. Then that for which he was waiting appeared.

From the very crest of the distant mountain peak, a flaming arrow suddenly began climbing toward the stars. Up, up it went, as does the rocket on a summer night, going slower and slower, like an old man plodding up hill, until, wearied out, it paused, and, for one instant remained stationary in the air, as if doubtful whether to push on or to fall back. The flaming point swung over until it pointed toward the ground, when it shot downward with ever increasing swiftness until it vanished. It must have struck within a yard of the spot from which it had been driven upward.

It was very rarely that Deerfoot showed excitement. He had drawn his knife and challenged the great Tecumseh to mortal conflict, and he had faced death a score of times in the most dreadful shapes, but very rarely, if ever, was his heart stirred as by the sight of the burning arrow on the distant mountain peak.

He straightened up with a quick inspiration, and his eyes followed the course of the fiery missile from the moment of its appearance until it vanished.

"They have called for Deerfoot!"

These were the remarkable words which fell from his lips, as he plunged down the mountain side like one who knew a question of life and death was before him. Although Deerfoot had formed a friendship for Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub similar to that which he had felt for Ned Preston and Wildblossom Brown, yet it must be admitted that they were not the only ones to whom he was strongly attached, and in whose fate he felt as deep an interest as in that of any human being—all of which shall be made clear in another place and at another time.

It was just one week later that Deerfoot made his appearance near the settlement, and, pausing at a point which commanded a view of the collection of cabins, he spent several minutes in surveying them and the pioneers. He had traveled many miles, and been through some singularly stirring scenes since he last looked upon Martinsville, but the gracious Being that had protected him all his life, did not desert him in his extremity, and the frame was as supple and free from weakness or injury as when he faced the other way.

When the burning arrow summoned Deerfoot down the mountain side, he was glad indeed that he had decided the question whether or not he should hunt for the boys as he did, for, had he done otherwise, the opportunity that has been described could not have come to him; but, when his duty was ended, the old doubt came back, until he had been driven to return in order that he might settle the question forever.

Looking down on the little settlement of Martinsville, he studied the curious scene, for he was so close that he could identify every person whom he knew. The settlement, as the reader has been told, consisted of two rows of log cabins, facing each other. They numbered about a score, and the street was fifty feet wide. Besides that, each cabin had the same space between itself and its neighbor, so that, few as were the structures, they were scattered over considerable ground.

This ground, as well as much of it beyond, had been well cleared, and the earth cultivated. There were horses and oxen to draw plows and help bear the burdens. Besides the hunters' cabins, there were storehouses, barns, and structures made for convenience or necessity. From most of the soil that had been overturned were sprouting corn, potatoes, and other vegetables. The time was not distant when the wilderness should blossom as the rose.

A block-house near the middle of the settlement had been half completed, when, so far as could be seen, the work was abandoned. The rule with the frontier settlements was to put up a building in which all could take refuge, should danger threaten; but often the fort was so hastily and poorly made that it became a matter of weakness rather than of strength. Colonel Martin and his brother pioneers reached the conclusion that they were showing altogether too much haste in rearing the structure, and they deferred its completion to a more convenient season. Their duty to their families, as they saw it, justified them in taking such a step, especially in view of the fact that the Indians of the surrounding country were not likely ever to cause them trouble.

The cleared land, as it was called, was still disfigured by numerous unsightly stumps, around which the rude plow was pulled; but here and there men were working to remove them, and ultimately all would be uprooted and destroyed.

On the edge of the clearing, three woodsmen were swinging their axes and burying their keen edges in the hearts of the monarchs of the wood. Deerfoot looked at them several minutes, noticing as he had done before, with childish wonder, how long it took the sound caused by the blows to reach him. When one of the choppers stopped to breathe and leaned on his axe, the sound of two blows came to the listener, and when he resumed work, the youth saw him in the act of striking the third time before the sound was heard.