Part 12 (1/2)

Away he rushed towards the level prairie; perhaps he expected to find friends there, or had his horse staked in that direction, near some wood or copse.

As soon as I perceived what Winnemak was about, I too sprang up, as did several Indians, but as they were all worn out with fatigue they were soon left behind. Being a good runner, I kept pace with the chief, although still at a considerable distance behind him, as he had had the start of me.

Day was just breaking, and there being no objects to impede the rays of the sun as it approached the horizon, the light rapidly increased.

Although I had, at first, lost sight of Winnemak, I soon again saw him, with the man he was pursuing at no great distance in front.

On the two went. Neither of them being armed, the fight was not likely to be a b.l.o.o.d.y one; still it was evident that Winnemak attached great importance to the capture of the spy. Perhaps he suspected who he was; and he evidently entertained a bitter animosity against him. I could not have supposed that he would have exhibited so much activity, judging from his appearance when clothed in his usual robes. Although he appeared to be a strong, muscular man, the other Indian, from his movements, was evidently young and active. How he had ventured to approach the camp without being armed, was a mystery. He could not, at all events, have intended to injure any one, or he would have come with his bow and arrows. As the light rapidly increased, and I saw him more clearly than at first, it struck me that he was the young brave, Piomingo, who had lately paid us a visit at the farm; but of this, seeing him at the distance he was from me, I could not be certain.

The chase promised to be a far longer one than I had expected. The stranger seemed as resolved to escape as Winnemak was to overtake him.

Few people, Indians or whites, except after long training, could have continued running so fast and for so long a period as did the spy and Winnemak.

I had the greatest difficulty in keeping near them; and, indeed, I had begun to fall behind, when I saw in front of me a broad piece of water.

The fugitive saw it too, but had he turned either to the right or to the left it would have given an advantage to his pursuer; he therefore kept straight on.

His efforts to escape were vain. As he approached the bank the ground became so soft that his feet sunk deep into it at every step. He discovered, too late, his mistake. Springing back, he attempted to make his way to the right; but in doing so he fell. Recovering himself, however, he sprang back on to the firm ground; but seeing that escape by flight was no longer possible, he turned round and boldly faced his pursuer. At the same instant a wild swan, rising from the water, flew off with a loud cry. It might have been taken for the death-wail of one of the combatants. Like a couple of wild beasts, the two Indians rushed at each other, and the next instant they were clasped in a deadly embrace. A desperate struggle ensued. It was youth and activity opposed to well-knit muscles and firm nerves.

Fierce was the contest. The young man attempted to free himself from the grasp of his opponent; now they strove to seize each other by the throat; now his antagonist bore back the chief by making a desperate spring as his feet for a moment touched the ground; but if the older man allowed himself to retreat, it was only for the purpose of wearing out the strength of the younger, which he knew would soon be exhausted.

Winnemak now seized one of his antagonist's arms, and with a movement as quick as thought threw him on his back across his own knee; then pressing him down, it appeared to me that he intended to break his spine. A fearful shriek, wrung from him by the agony he was suffering, escaped the lips of the young brave; his eyes closed--the struggle was over. Still Winnemak did not let go his victim, but gazing fiercely down on his countenance until all appearance of life had ceased, he hurled the body to the ground. As he did so he exclaimed, ”Stay there!

You have betrayed me once; you would have stolen my daughter; you will no longer have the power to follow your evil practices.”

The combat was over as I reached the place.

”Is he dead?” I asked, as I gazed down on the face of the vanquished brave.

”He will die,” answered Winnemak; ”but he still breathes.”

”But I thought you wished to gain information from him?” I observed, feeling anxious to preserve the life of the poor wretch.

”I did; but now I would rather enjoy the pleasure of seeing him die.”

”That is not the way we Palefaces treat a fallen enemy,” I remarked.

”You must not be displeased at what I say,--I would ask you to allow me to have him brought into the camp. At all events, for the present he can do no further harm, and he may wish to show his grat.i.tude to those who have preserved his life.”

”Do as you please,” said the chief, after a moment's consideration.

I got some water from the lake,--finding a hard place by which I could approach it,--and threw it over the face of the fallen man, who had, I perceived, merely fainted from the excruciating pain he was suffering.

He at length opened his eyes, and seemed to recognise me. It _was_ Piomingo. The chief, I noticed, stood by, watching every movement of his late antagonist. I raised Piomingo's head, and was thankful to find that he now began to breathe more freely.

”Take care,” said the chief. ”He intends acting the part of the cunning fox, and will yet make an effort to escape.”

Piomingo turned his eyes towards the speaker, apparently understanding him.

I was still making every effort to restore him, when several of Winnemak's followers came up.

”Then you grant my request?” I said, turning to the chief.