With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE CLOVEN HOOF

  The grave face of the young Indian brave was undisturbed by a smile ashe greeted the white youth whom he had not seen for more than a year.But he shook Enoch's hand with an emphatic "Umph!" when the lattersprang ashore.

  "Crow Wing!" exclaimed young Harding. "I thought you had forgotten us inthese parts. You've been away a long time."

  "Umph! Injin no forget friends," remarked Crow Wing, sententiously.

  "And you've come here to see me--'way from Lake George?"

  "Umph!" was again the non-committal answer. "Harding and Crow Wing gohunt,--shoot deer? Crow Wing need new moccasins," and he thrust forwardone foot on which was a ragged covering. But Nuck knew well enough theIndian had not traveled through the wilderness from Lake George merelyfor the pleasure of going on a deer hunt with him. But he said,doubtfully: "We're pretty busy just now, Crow Wing. Can't go far withyou."

  "Not go far. Plenty deer yonder," and he pointed in the direction of thelick where Jonas Harding had been killed. Nuck understood. "I'll go withyou. Will you come across and eat supper with us?"

  But the Indian shook his head vigorously. "Will eat yonder. Have meat.Harding get rifle and blanket. Will make fire."

  He turned about instantly and plunged into the forest. Enoch wasastonished by his manner and words, familiar as he was with thepeculiarities of the red race. Crow Wing had never refused to eat withthem before; he had always seemed to enjoy the "white squaw's" cooking.But Enoch had no fear that his one-time enemy was playing him a trick.He paddled across the creek for his blanket, told his mother that he wasgoing on a torchlight hunt, with whom he was going, and without furtherexplanation returned to follow his red friend. He had noted thedirection the young brave had taken. The way led directly to that littleglade where, nearly four years before, he had spied upon Simon Halpen,the Yorker, and Crow Wing had driven him so ignominiously home. Therewas a fire here now, but the Indian was alone.

  An appetizing odor of broiling flesh greeted the white youth, for it wasalready growing dark in the forest and Crow Wing was preparing supper.Enoch did not open the conversation, but busied himself with making acouple of bark platters out of which they might eat the meat when it wascooked. He was anxious enough to broach the subject uppermost in hismind; but he knew Crow Wing better than to do that. Anxiety, orcuriosity, were emotions which only squaws gave way to, and Enoch wouldnot exhibit his feelings and so disgust his red brother.

  Crow Wing was evidently a man of importance in his tribe now, and hisgravity was far beyond his years. While they ate Enoch asked a questionor two about his people, and if the decimated tribe, which had neverrecovered numerically from a scourge of smallpox, still resided nearLake George. He learned then that the Indians had struck their lodgesand were journeying toward the northern wilderness. The old chief, CrowWing's father, was dead, and the youth himself aspired to be the leaderof his people. From a word or two he let drop and from his manner ofspeaking, Enoch judged that the older men of the tribe had some doubt ofCrow Wing's ability to govern the braves; but evidently the youth hadstrong hopes of gaining their confidence--and that by some act in thenear future. What his plan for advancement was, Enoch could not get hisfriend to tell.

  "Why do your people leave the shores of the pleasant water?" asked thewhite boy.

  "Injin not 'lone there now. Red-coat come; then white farmer. Push,push; crowd, crowd; no game. Injin starve."

  "And where are you going?"

  "To the hunting grounds of the Hurons."

  "But then there will be war between your people and the Hurons."

  "No; no war. Hurons be squaws--children; Iroquois master 'em. Then,war-hatchet buried between Hurons and Six Nations. Buried when Frenchand Yenghese bury hatchet--long time 'go."

  Enoch, with more than curiosity, yet speaking in a careless manner,continued his questioning: "What would the people of Crow Wing do ifthere was another war?"

  The Indian flashed a sudden sharp glance at him. "How could be?" heasked, craftily. "Yenghese got many red-coats--much gun. French no fightmore."

  "Suppose we should fight the red-coats?"

  "Umph! Me hear Long-guns" (the Virginians) "talk fight to Six Nations.No. Yenghese send too many big chiefs over water."

  "Those big chiefs aren't always good," returned Enoch, quickly. "Yourpeople remember General Abercrombie. He did not know how to fight inthese forests. And there was Braddock; he was no good at all. Hewouldn't have been beaten if he'd taken Colonel Washington's advice. I'dgive a lot more when it comes to a fight for our Major Putnam, Mr.Washington, and Ethan Allen."

  The Indian's face was gloomy. He had finished eating now and leaned backagainst a tree while he puffed the tobacco in the little copper pipewhich was his constant companion. Not until the pipe was smoked out didhe speak. "Harding my friend," he finally said, in his grave tone,repeating a formula which he had used so many times since the night Nuckhad saved him from the wolves. "Harding my friend. Crow Wing know whatis in his mind. He thinks to fight the red-coats--to take their greatstockades; he is not afraid of their many guns. But he is foolish; he isas a child; he does not understand. Let him open his ears and listen tohis friend."

  The young chief had assumed that oracular tone and manner so dear to thered man in his counsels. His earnestness, however, impressed Enoch. "Thewhite youth and his friends are angry with the great King across thewater; they would kill his red-coats. But the red-coats are like leaveswhen the frost comes; they fall to the ground and so cover the earth;and it is thus with the red-coats for numbers. And the Six Nations willbe with the red-coats; Crow Wing's people will be with them. If there iswar we will take many scalps; we will come here," with a gesture,sweeping in the Bennington country, "and then Crow Wing and Harding notbe friends. So Crow Wing come now to say to Harding, 'Good-bye.'"

  "But why do not the Indians help us instead of the red-coats?" demandedEnoch, striving to speak calmly.

  "The great King give us blankets; he give us powder for scalp; he giveus gun. The red-coats let Injin fight his own way. And Crow Wing begreat war chief!" he exclaimed, with some emphasis. It was plain that heexpected to make his position with his tribe secure by his valor inbattle, should the settlers and the British come to a rupture. Herefrained from speaking longer, however, rising soon and covering thefire which he had kindled. Then, seizing a bundle of torches and hisrifle, he motioned Enoch to follow and they set off through the foresttoward the deer-lick.

  Although he felt the utmost confidence in the fact that Crow Wing hadnot come clear from Lake George simply to give him this warning and tobid him good-bye, Enoch still remained silent upon that subject whichthe Indian's appearance had brought so forcibly to his mind. Through thedarkened forest, in which the owls now hooted mournfully, the whiteyouth followed the red without a word; every step was taking them nearerto that place where his father had been found dead so long ago. CrowWing had spoken with some confidence the year before of being able tofind, even at this late day, some sign which should disprove thegenerally accepted belief in the manner of Jonas Harding's death.

  The brave soon reached the deeply worn runway which Enoch, on themorning he was introduced to the reader, followed to the creek, and soonthe two came upon the little glade where the saline deposits in theearth had attracted the deer and other animals since such creaturesinhabited the forest. Dark as it was Enoch could even distinguish thevery tree out of which the catamount had sprung at him, and the murmurof the hurrying waters down the rocky bed reached his ear. Here 'SiahBolderwood and the other neighbors had found the dead body of the elderHarding, apparently trampled and gored to death by the huge buck whosehoofprints marked the ground all about. Enoch had seldom passed the spotwithout a shudder--especially since he had so nearly lost his own lifethere.

  Still the Indian made no comment, nor mentioned the real reason forwhich they had come to the lick. He wet his finger and held it up so asto get the direction of the wind. Then circling the lick and gett
ingbetween it and the creek-bank, he flung down the bundle of torches andmotioned Enoch back into the deeper shadow. With his own flint andsteel, and using a bit of tinder from the leather pouch he carried, helit one of the resinous torches. This he stood upright some littledistance away, yet not too near the piece of ground where the creaturesof the forest were accustomed to obtain their salt. Then, crouchingbeside his white friend, the Indian remained motionless and speechlessfor the next three hours. Once Enoch crept out and renewed the torchwhich had burned low; then he returned to Crow Wing's side.

  All the sounds of the forest at night are not to be distinguished withease. Even Enoch, bred in the wilderness and possessing much knowledgeof wood-ranging, heard only the coarser sounds. Therefore he lay halfdreaming for some moments after the Indian raised his head and lent anattentive ear to some noise which came from far away. The night-owl'shoot was intermittent; a lone wolf howled mournfully on the hillside; inthe swamp a catamount screamed as it pounced upon its prey. But it wasnone of these sounds which had attracted the Indian's attention. Enochsuddenly roused to see Crow Wing softly reach for his gun and bring theweapon slowly to his shoulder.

  The white youth already had his own weapon in hand. He tried to piercethe darkness beyond the flickering torch with his eyes, seeing naught atfirst but shapeless shadows. At length, however, the sound that hadwarned Crow Wing of the approach of their game, was audible to Enoch'smuch less acute ear. It was that of a steady grinding of a ruminantanimal feeding. The creature was coming slowly nearer and soon thehunters could plainly hear it cropping the leaves and twigs along thepath; then, having gained a choice mouthful, the grinding of the molarsrecommenced.

  Suddenly the thick brush across the glade parted and the animal haltedwith a surprised snuff--one might almost say gasp of astonishment. Thecrash in the bushes betrayed that the creature had flung itself halfaround in its contemplated flight; then it hesitated; the flaming torchspurred its curiosity and, there being no movement in the glade, exceptof the shadows caused by the dancing flame from the fragrant pine, thestartled creature was tempted.

  And being tempted to the point of hesitation, it was lost! Slowly,blowing as it came yet drawing nearer and nearer to the light, the beastmoved out of the brush into the open. Suddenly Enoch saw it--thebranching antlers, the fawn-colored breast, the pointed, outstretched,eager muzzle, the great eyes in which the torch reflected a glint offire. It was a magnificent buck, the largest specimen of the deer tribethe youth had ever seen. Suddenly Crow Wing jogged his elbow. A glancepassed between them. Each understood the other's intention. The Indianfired, his ball entering just above the buck's breast and ploughingslantingly upward through the throat. With a snort of terror the buckswerved to one side and might have gotten away had not Enoch's shotfound a more vulnerable spot behind the foreleg. The heart of the greatdeer was punctured, and it fell in the agony of death.

  "Umph! Now Crow Wing have new moccasins," the Indian grunted, withoutemotion. But Enoch went forward, lighting a second torch the better toview the great buck. It was still now and outstretched on the earthlooked even larger than when in life. The thought flashed through hismind: "Ah! perhaps this was the very brute--this enormous fellow withhis hoofs bigger than those of a steer and his terrible horns--thatkilled my father here. Could it be possible?"

  Looking upon this huge buck, noting its power and its fierce aspect,though the brute's eye was glazed by death, he wondered if, by anychance, he had been accusing an innocent person? This brute would havebeen perfectly able to kill a man. Naught but the hoof-marks of the deerwere found about the body of his father. How, then, could Simon Halpenbe in any wise guilty of his enemy's death?

  But Crow Wing brought the white youth to a realization of presentthings. The Indian knew that their hunting was over for that night. Noother deer would approach the lick, for the smell of the blood from theslain buck would warn its mates away. Only the creatures of prey wouldbe attracted now. So he was down on his knees and had already begun toflay the dead carcass, and Enoch, seeing this, began to help him. It wasnear midnight, and when the hide was off, the tongue and the most tastyparts removed, Crow Wing built another fire, wrapped his blanket abouthim, and lay down to sleep.

  But Enoch could not sleep. He had cut off and hung up near the camp ahaunch of the venison to take back with him in the morning. They hadremoved so far from the lick that certain preying beasts dared quarrelover the remains of the noble buck until daylight; but the youth satwith his back against a tree and his rifle across his knees until thedimpling water of the creek was kissed by the first beams of the sunwhich shot over the distant range of hills. His thoughts were sufficientto keep him wide awake.

  Enoch was not the first to stir; but Crow Wing, possessing the hunter'sfaculty of awaking at any desired hour, sat up and threw back hisblanket. "My brother did not sleep," he said, looking upon the whiteyouth with gloomy brow.

  "No; I couldn't do that, Crow Wing," Enoch returned, sadly.

  The Indian got upon his feet, threw wood upon the fire, and prepared tocook the deer meat he had reserved. They ate in silence as they had thenight before. Never had young Harding seen the redskin act so strangely,for during the winter Crow Wing had spent with Enoch and Lot on theOtter, he had by no means been silent or morose. The white youth couldnot fail to see that something--something beside what troubledEnoch--bore heavily upon Crow Wing's mind.

  After eating the Indian scattered and covered the embers of the fire andprepared to leave the spot. He went toward the lick where the deer hadbeen torn to pieces by the prowling animals Enoch had heard. At the edgeof the clearing he halted and attracted his companion's attention by acommanding gesture. "Harding's father found here by the tall white man,"he said, simply.

  "Yes. 'Siah Bolderwood found him," Enoch sadly admitted.

  "Then we look--see how Hawknose kill him."

  "But Crow Wing, it was four years ago----"

  The Indian stopped him with a gesture of disdain. "Does my brother thinkwe look for trail? No, no! The white man not find trail?"

  "Of course not. There were only marks of the buck's hoofs."

  Crow Wing pointed to the spoor of the dead buck made the night before."Trail big as that?" he asked.

  "Yes. It might have been this buck."

  "No buck," declared the other, emphatically and then began to move aboutthe open glade, examining each tree trunk as he went. Enoch did notunderstand his actions but he followed him. The Indian gazed upon eachtree scrutinizingly, and no knothole in the rough boles escaped hisattention.

  When the tree proved to be hollow at its base the searcher experimentedwith his gun barrel, poking it into the farther extremity of the cavityand rattling out the decayed wood and the debris of squirrel nests andowl lairs. In several cases these creatures themselves were disturbed,the lively squirrels to run chattering up the higher branches, the owlslumbering away into the forest, bumping against the trees in theirblindness, and hooting mournfully at the disturbers of their peace. Allthis time Crow Wing continued with an unmoved face. Not an interstice inthe roots of the trees escaped his eye and to Enoch, who could notimagine what he was looking for, his actions seemed without reason. Buthe knew better than to ask him the nature of his search.

  For two hours Crow Wing circled about the little glade. There was not atree which escaped him, nor did any hollow go unexamined which waswithin reach of the tallest man. Crow Wing's face betrayed neither hopenor disappointment and therefore his companion could not tell howimportant this search was. The patience displayed by the Indian was allthat suggested the object of his examination to be of any moment.

  At length, in poking the barrel of his gun into the hollow at the baseof a big tree Crow Wing disturbed some object which fell out upon theground. Enoch, who looked over his shoulder could not at first imaginewhat it was. He saw several rotting straps attached to the thing,however, and as his companion with a grunt of evident satisfaction,began poking into the hollow still further, the white boy picked theob
ject up and knocked the dirt and decayed wood off it. It was sostrange an object that at first Enoch saw no connection between it andthe matter which he and Crow Wing had discussed--Jonas Harding's death.

  It was the dry and broken hoof of some ruminant animal--an ox, perhaps,for it was too large for any deer that Enoch had ever seen. It was evenlarger than the hoof of the buck he and Crow Wing had recently shot. Andwhen the boy thought of that he was reminded of the hoof prints whichhad been found all about the lick when his father's body was discoveredlying there. He uttered a stifled exclamation and drawing up one footfitted the cloven hoof against the sole of his moccasin. The rottenstraps or thongs would once have bound the thing to a man's foot. Hemight have stood upon it--walked upon it, indeed; and the impressionleft by this cloven hoof would naturally lead one to suppose that a bigdeer had been that way!

  Enoch turned with sweating brow and shaking hands toward the Indian.Crow Wing stood upright again and now held a second hoof, likewisesupplied with thongs, in his hand. They looked at each other.

  "Umph!" grunted Crow Wing. "Now Harding know? See moose hoofs. Crow Wingknow where moose killed--see moose killed. Hawknose kill much thatwinter; Hawknose hunt with Injins up north; then come back to crick.Harding 'member what Crow Wing tell him when trapping on Otter Crick?See Hawknose running; blood on clothes; blood on hands and on gun. NowHarding know how father be killed."

  Enoch's eyes blazed with wrath. "I know, Crow Wing. I believe what youtell me. I see no other explanation of the affair. Give me those hoofs,Crow Wing."

  "Harding keep them till he punish Hawknose?" queried the Indian.

  "Yes."

  The young brave pulled his belt tighter and prepared to depart."Hawknose never Crow Wing's brother," he said. "Harding been brother.But now the hatchet will be dug up. The Long-guns cannot get the SixNations to fight the red-coats. And the friends of my white brother willbe beaten. They will become the squaws of the red-coats and of the greatKing across the sea. So my people will go north and join the red-coats."He shook Enoch's hand gravely. "Crow Wing and Harding been brothers; butwhen they meet again be enemies. Umph?"

  "I hope we'll never meet again, then, Crow Wing," declared the whiteyouth. "I hope there will be no war. More than that, I hope your peoplewill not join the British if there is war."

  But without further speech, or a glance behind him, the Indian bravestrode away into the forest and was quickly lost to view.