Part 8 (1/2)

”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-s.h.i.+rt, and s.h.i.+fted his position so that his back was turned toward the fire, whose glow pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sumed 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, st.u.r.dy 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 pa.s.sed 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.