CHAPTER XVIII.
LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT.
The crisp autumn night had not reached its turn when the full moonclimbed from behind the straggling clouds obscuring her face, into theclear air above, and shone down on the wilderness, with the same calmsplendor with which it had shone during the ages before the foot of awhite man had rested on the soil of our country. Here and there, atwidely-separated points, as the orb moved toward the zenith, could beseen the star-like twinkles of light which showed where the sparsesettlements had been planted by the pioneers. At intervals, too, milesaway from the clearings, could be distinguished the glimmer of thehunters' camp-fires, where the hardy men had lain down wrapped in theirblankets, and to sleep the sleep of health. Still further away, by theside of some calmly flowing river or creek, were the ragged tepees ofthe wild Indians. Mountain, forest and stream made up the landscape,that was illuminated by the moon on the night when Fred Linden and TerryClark lay down in slumber by the fire in the cavern, and Deerfoot theShawanoe took upon himself the duty of acting as a sentinel over them.
It was not yet midnight when the figure of a crouching Indian emergedlike a shadow from the little gully which marked the course of the tinystream in front of the camp. Just at the point where he appeared, a fewrays of the moonlight found their way among the limbs, and addedimpressiveness to his appearance. A glance would have told that he hadapproached at the most stealthy gait of which he was capable, and wasstill using all the skill at his command.
Finding himself within the faint light of the moon, he straightened up,like one who is not certain of his surroundings and is using his eyesand ears to their utmost. Standing erect in this manner he showedhimself to be a full-grown warrior in middle life, of strong limbs andframe, and attired in the usual dress of his people.
The long, coarse hair dangled about the shoulders, some of the strandshaving fallen forward in front of the chest, at the time his head drewit over while in a crouching posture. It grew so low on his foreheadthat no more than an inch was between the roots and shaggy eyebrows.Beneath these the eyes glittered like those of a snake. The uglyfeatures were made more ugly by the different colored paints--most of itblack--that was daubed over them, and the countenance was distorted by aswelling recently produced.
The breast and arms were covered by deerskin, a fringe running down infront to the belt, which held his tomahawk. The frightful horn-handledknife was tightly grasped in his right hand. Below the belt wasbreechcloth, followed by leggins and moccasins, but it was noticeablethat he carried no rifle with him.
Perhaps you have guessed the reason; he had none to carry, for he wasthe Wolf who had been deprived of his valuable weapon on the day beforeby Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
As was learned in due time, the Winnebago, after being despoiled byDeerfoot, had made all haste to rejoin his band, that were encamped atno great distance from Greville. When he told his brother warriors ofthe indignity to which he had been subjected, they were as rampart as hefor revenge. They were on the point of starting for a settlement,intending to await the chance to shoot down some of the unsuspectingpeople, when the leader, a man of iron will, interposed.
He said that according to the story of the Wolf himself, his gun hadbeen taken from him by a single warrior. A Winnebago ought to be ashamedto confess such a thing, and the only way by which the Wolf could redeemhimself was to recover his gun unaided by any of his people. Let himcome back to the party with his rifle and then they would risk theirlives a dozen times over to repay the young Shawanoe and his youthfulfriend (they knew nothing about Fred Linden) for the insult they had putupon one of the leading warriors of the Winnebago tribe.
You can well understand how displeasing this decision was to the Wolf,but there was no help for it. The warrior who gave the order was notonly the leader of the company, but the principal chief of the tribe. Noone dared to dispute his command, and he intimated that it was not onlynecessary for the Wolf to recover his gun in order to enlist theservices of the rest, but his standing at home would be compromised ifhe went back without his rifle and the story that it had been taken fromhim by a single warrior of another tribe.
From this you will understand the eagerness with which the Wolf set outto regain the weapon.
The fact that Fred Linden and Terry Clark left Greville the next morningafter the affair, mixed matters to that extent that, for a time, theWinnebago was at fault. It was his intention to prowl around thesettlement, awaiting his chance, for he suspected that Deerfoot had gonethither with the lad who had given the Wolf such a blow in the face; butthe discovery of the footprints of the two boys leading to the southwardmystified the Indian. He was quite close to the creek, and the sun hadcrossed the meridian at the time this discovery was made. It was naturalthat he should look for the trail of the Shawanoe, but he could not findit.
Finally, with a half-suspicion of the truth, the Wolf went into thesettlement to make inquiries. He could speak enough broken English tomake himself understood, and, as it so happened, it was Mr. MacClaskeyhimself whom he accosted. He told the inquirer the truth, adding thatTerry took with him a gun that was captured from a vagabond Indian. Butfor that he would not have been allowed to go, for there was but onerifle in the family, which the settler would trust in no hands but hisown for any length of time.
The Winnebago was shrewd enough to disarm any doubt that might have beenfelt about himself. It was the rule in the settlement to show kindnessto every wandering Indian that visited them, and no one dreamed that anything was to be feared from the Wolf. But his heart was full of exultingmalignancy. He knew who had the gun, and aware that the two boys hadstarted for the camp of the Ozarks, he understood where to look for it.The fact that the Winnebago had no gun with him would have caused thebelief that he was the vagabond Indian, had he not explained that heleft it in the woods as a token of comity.
The Wolf sauntered back until he was across the stream and out of sight.Then he sped along the trail, with a long, loping trot, which his racecan maintain for hours without fatigue. He had a long distance totravel, but he reached the scene of the encounter with the strangeanimal, just as it was growing dark.
At this point, he showed admirable woodcraft. The signs on the groundpuzzled him for a time, but there was the carcass of the animal, and byand by he found the imprints of the small moccasins, which told him thatthe young Shawanoe had rejoined the others at this point.
As you can well believe, this was any thing but a pleasant discovery,for, superior as was the strength of the Winnebago, he would havepreferred to meet the two boys, even though both were armed, than tofind himself face to face again with the remarkable Indian youth.
But there was no help for it, and the dusky Winnebago compressed hiscoppery lips with the resolve that the gun should be in his hands beforethe rising of the morrow's sun.
The light was rapidly fading among the trees and he improved what wasleft of it. Prowling around the spot in a circle, with his nose close tothe ground, he discovered that the three youths had started along thebank of the brook toward its head.
Thereupon the Winnebago formed the correct conclusion; they had movedfrom the main trail (doubtless on the suggestion of the young Shawanoe),in search of some place to encamp where there would be less danger ofdetection.
By the time the Wolf had satisfied himself on this point, it had becometoo dark among the trees for his eyes to detect the trail, which atmid-day would have been as distinct as a beaten path. He thereforeadopted the plan of which I have made mention elsewhere: he followed ageneral rule.
The conclusion being that the parties for whom he was searching hadlocated themselves somewhere along the creek, it was useless to try andfollow the footprints, though there were points here and there where thesense of touch might have helped him. He decided to creep stealthily upstream until he found the camp, and then bide his time.
It is hard to form an idea of the extreme care with which this was done.Had the Winnebago not known of the presence of Deerfoot,
he would nothave taken half the time consumed, but he had seen enough of thatwonderful youth to know that it would require more than a child tooutwit him.
At a point about half way between the trail and the camp among therocks, the Wolf thought his hands touched some imprints in the earthwhich showed that the three had turned to the right and gone deeper intothe woods. It required reconnoitering before he discovered his mistake.
With the same amazing patience he renewed his stealthy progress up thestream, until at last he emerged into the moonlight and found that atlast he had reached the spot for which he had hunted so long.
It so happened that as he straightened up, he looked directly into themouth of the cave and saw the dull glow of the camp-fire, like the openeye of some monster. Not only that, but he observed the three formsstretched out by it. The heart of the savage throbbed with pleasure, forhe felt that success had come at last.
With the same absolute noiselessness he began creeping into the mouth ofthe cavern. One of the embers fell apart with a soft rustle, whichcaused him to stop and hold his breath lest the sleepers should awake.But they did not stir, and in a minute he resumed his advance.
The two white lads had flung the blankets from their faces, so that hesaw Fred Linden plainly, and enough of the other to identify him as theone who had smitten him. Nearer to the Winnebago than they was the thirdform, which he knew equally well.
"It is the Shawanoe," was his thought; "I will bury my knife in hisheart and then slay the others."
A minute later he reached forward his upraised right hand and suddenlybrought it down with a force that pinned the blanket to the earth. Butto his unspeakable disgust Deerfoot was not within it.