CHAPTER XVI.
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.
Inasmuch as Terry and Fred had enough lunch left to furnish all that waswanted, Deerfoot decided not to hunt for any thing else. At that hour,when it was growing dark, it would have been hard to find any game; buthe told them that at no great distance above, the tiny brook issued froma small lake, where he could easily get all the fish he wanted.
Accordingly, the fire having been started at the rear of the cavern,where the smoke found free vent, the three sat within a circle of light,and partook of the coarse bread and cold venison. The latter was tough,but it could not withstand the teeth of the two youths, whose appetiteswere such as wait on high health.
It was noticeable that the young Shawanoe ate no more than half as muchas each of the others. Then saying that he wished to view the camp fromthe outside, he went out in front of the cavern. He remarked that hewould be gone only a few minutes, but he took his gun with him.
When Deerfoot emerged from the rude shelter it was fully dark. There wasa moon in the sky, but the density of the surrounding forest kept outthe rays, so that the gloom could not be penetrated to any distance.
He stood still and listened. His sense of hearing, like that of sight,was trained to a wonderfully fine point, as you have learned in theincidents previously related, so that faint noises, such as you or Icould not have detected, would have told their full story to him.
But nothing more than what may be called the natural sounds of the woodfell on his ear. Then the young Indian leaped lightly across the smallbrook in front of the cavern and walked some two rods beyond, where hepaused and listened again. After this he made a complete circuit of thecavern. This compelled him to cross the little stream once more,brought him back to the mouth of the retreat, and caused him also toclimb over a great deal of broken ground, but a shadow could not havemade the circuit more noiselessly. He stopped several times and listenedwith the same profound attention, occasionally looking toward the cavernwithin which his friends were eating their supper and talking togetherin low, guarded tones. He caught the murmur of their voices, which wouldhave been audible to no one else beyond a dozen feet. Just above thelarge opening in the cavern, through which most of the smoke found itsway, a faint, dull glow showed that the camp-fire was burning below.
The inspection made by Deerfoot was satisfactory; he had discovered nosign of any prowling enemy, and the party could not have found a placewhere there was less likelihood of disturbance by any foes who were inthe neighborhood. It would seem indeed that nothing short of a mostexceptional mishap could bring any danger near. So he once more enteredthe cavern, and seated himself by the fire, upon which Fred Linden hadjust thrown a bundle of sticks that filled the cavern with a light likethat of noonday.
Terry insisted that Deerfoot should take his blanket, because theShawanoe had none, and the one belonging to Fred Linden was enough forthe others. Deerfoot at first declined, but his young friend persevered,so the half-dozen yards of heavy stuff were spread on the rock and earthfloor of the cabin, and then Deerfoot disposed of himself in a lollingattitude, reclining on his left elbow, while he looked across andthrough the blaze at his two friends, who were stretched out in almost asimilar attitude. It will be borne in mind that he was nearer the mouthof the cavern than were the others: in fact he was about half-waybetween where they were stretched and the open air. Fred and Terry didnot notice this, or, if they did, they supposed it was accidental,though it was done with forethought by the sagacious young Shawanoe.
The evening was yet young, and the circumstances were such as to makethe boys talk at a rate that almost overwhelmed Deerfoot, who alwaysshowed a deliberation in his speech, as if he weighed each word beforeallowing it to fall from his lips.
Fred and Terry had formed a strong liking for the young Shawanoe, andsince he seemed to be in fine spirits, they plied him with questionsuntil they learned the chief facts in his history. When the longconversation ended they knew that Deerfoot was the son of a Shawanoechief, and that he was born in the Dark and Bloody Ground. When but asmall boy he was like a spitting wildcat in his hatred of the whitepeople, and it was not until he was wounded and nearly beaten to death,that he could be taken prisoner on one of the excursions of his peopleagainst the white settlements.
He fell into goods hands and was nursed back to strength. Not only that,but those that had him in direct charge told him about God, who made theworld, who loved His creatures, and who sorrowed to see them trying toharm each other, and who had sent His only Son to die for His lostchildren. It was a wonderful story to which Deerfoot listened with raptattention, and all in time (as you have been told in another place),the extraordinary young Shawanoe became a devout follower of the meekand lowly One. He felt that he could never repay the whites for showinghim the way to eternal life. Thenceforward he became their friend, anddevoted his life to protecting them against the enmity of the red men.
Deerfoot told Fred and Terry something about his stirring experienceswith Ned Preston and Wildblossom Brown, and afterward with Jack Carletonand Otto Relstaub, but did not hint at one-tenth the services he hadrendered the white people. Of all the fierce tribes that made portionsof Ohio and Kentucky like sheol on earth, the Shawanoes were the worst:they were the Apaches of the last century. Deerfoot had fallen intotheir hands and many of his most desperate encounters were with them.Finally the efforts to take him prisoner became so far reaching that hesaw that his usefulness as a friend of the settlements was at end. Therage of the Shawanoes was such that it may be said that some of theircampaigns were planned with the sole purpose of capturing the youngrenegade, whom they hated with a hatred like that of the tigers of thejungle.
You will see, therefore, that not only was the usefulness of Deerfoot asan ally of the whites ended, but he became even an element of danger tothem. He had been urged to make his home with those who held him in suchhigh regard, but he could not do so. He quietly withdrew from thecountry and crossed the Mississippi into the vast Louisiana Territory.There he had lived for a couple of years, and there he expected to endhis days.
"Deerfoot," said Fred Linden, when his remarkable narration had ended,"Terry and I are not new hands in the woods, and we would be much bettersatisfied if you would allow us to share the night in watching withyou."
"Why does my brother think of danger?"
"Because _you_ do; I know it by your actions."
The quickness of this reply struck Deerfoot favorably. He did not thinkthat his conduct had been noticed, and he was gratified that his friendwas so observant. That there should be no mistake about his suspicions,Fred added:
"I don't know whether you have seen that Winnebago or not since youstarted him on the run yesterday; he may be still running, but I amquite sure, from the way you have behaved, that you suspect that he andthe rest of his companions are prowling through the woods, on thelookout for a chance to revenge themselves."
Deerfoot's face glowed. Fred Linden had hit the nail on the head.
"My brother speaks the words of truth; his thoughts are the thoughts ofDeerfoot."
Terry Clark looked at his companion in astonishment.
"How come ye to know all that, Fred?"
"I see nothing remarkable about it; all I had to do was to observe theactions of Deerfoot since he joined us to-day. In the first place, hewouldn't have made us change our camping place if he hadn't had somemisgiving, and then the way he has been mousing around the outside, andhis decision to keep watch to-night: why what could tell the story moreplainly?"
"Begorrah," said the admiring Terry, "ye are not such a big fool as youlook to be; I never thought of that."
"Which looks as if you are a bigger dunce than you seem; but," addedFred, turning toward the Shawanoe, "have you seen any thing of theWinnebagos?"
"Deerfoot has seen their footprints in the woods; they are on the watchfor his white brothers that they may gain their scalps, because the gunof the Wolf was taken from him."
"They seem to have hard
work in finding us: where do those Winnebagoscome from?"
Deerfoot pointed to the northward, or rather to a little east of north.
"Their hunting grounds are many suns' travel that way."
"Why do the spalpeens come down in this part of the world, and why don'tthey behave thimselves whin they do?" demanded Terry, with someindignation.
Deerfoot shook his head, as though the question was more than he couldanswer.
"Deerfoot has met Shawanoes and Sacs and Wyandottes and Pawnees far awayfrom their villages and hunting grounds, besides the strange Indianswho come much further from the setting sun. The red men travel whitherthey will. Why the Winnebagos passed near the home of my brothers onlythey can tell."
"Well, they're a bad lot," said Terry, "to try the mean trick they didon me; though," he added the next moment, "I'm glad they done the same,for if they hadn't, how would I've got hold of this lovely gun? Do yethink we shall have any more trouble with them?"
"Deerfoot believes there will be trouble, and it will come soon!"
"Well, if it does, all ye have to do is to take away the rist of theirguns and set 'em on the run home agin."