The Lost Trail

CHAPTER XXX

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

Both Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub were disturbed by the singular behavior of the squaw and chief.

"They're talking about something outdoors," whispered Jack; "keep quiet and listen."

The faint rustling of the leaves, the gentle breathing of the sleeping infant, and the soft purring of the fire (caused by the sudden flaring up of one of the brands), were the only sounds that came to their ears. Wish-o-wa-tum held the stem of his pipe between his lips, without ejecting any smoke, while his eyes were fixed on the ground in front of his feet, with that absent expression which showed he was listening intently to something not visible to the eye. The attitude of the wife was similar, except that she looked steadily in the face of Jack Carleton, as though seeking to read his thoughts.

Hark! both the boys caught a stirring of the leaves, precisely as if made by the foot of an animal prowling around the wigwam.

"Sh!" warned Jack; "it's a man or beast!"

The words had no more than left his lips, when the flapping deerskin was silently drawn backward and an Indian warrior entered.

He was powerful and well formed in his war paint, and with his long rifle in his right hand. He had no blanket thrown over his shoulders, but he was fully dressed in other respects, with knife and tomahawk thrust in the girdle around his waist.

The first glance showed that he not only belonged to the Shawanoe tribe, but he was one of the most dreaded members of the same. Both Otto and Jack had seen him before, his forehead and cheeks being so curiously marked as to identify him wherever no one else was similarly ornamented.

When the boys were making their desperate run for the shelter of the logs on the other side, of the Mississippi, Otto threw back an affrighted look, which gave him such a vivid picture of that particular savage that he felt the memory would remain with him through life. A few minutes after, as my reader will recall, Jack deliberately held fast to the upper edge of the rude fort and looked over upon the fierce warriors outside. The one who particularly impressed him was the Shawanoe with the hideously painted countenance. It was this same Indian that flung the bear skin about his shoulders and, creeping up the inclined tree trunk, surveyed the astonished youths below, and it was he who now entered the lodge of Wish-o-wa-tum and confronted the inmates.

The truth flashed upon the boys: he was one of a party that had followed them across the Mississippi, and had traced them to this lodge. It was natural the youths should believe that others were not far off.

It will be remembered that Otto had left his gun on the edge of the clearing some distance away, while the weapon of Jack stood near the entrance of the lodge. The instant the Shawanoe stepped inside, his eye rested on it, and, as if divining the truth, he extended his hand and picked it up. The act gave him two guns, while neither of the boys possessed a fire-arm.

Having performed this clever exploit, the Shawanoe, still standing erect, just within the lodge, turned to the chief and addressed him in what may be termed a mixture of the Shawanoe and Osage tongues. He paid no attention to the squaw at the other end of the wigwam, for to an American Indian the native woman is of little account under any circumstances.

Nor did his face indicate that he was aware of the presence of the boys, who looked at him with dismay; but it was morally certain that the conversation which opened immediately related almost solely to them.

"My gracious!" said Jack, when able to recover himself, "this is bad for us. I never dreamed of anything of the kind."

He spoke very guardedly, with his head close to his friend's though both narrowly watched the warriors, while giving expression to their own fears.

"Vie didn't we start sooner don he comes?" whispered Otto, his jaw trembling with fear; "I don't see vot we doted does."

An absurd scheme of escape suggested itself to Jack.

"I wonder whether we can't dash through the side of the lodge and get away."

"Wait till I sees."

Otto carefully leaned back with a view of learning bow much resistance the deerskins would offer. While they were quite strong, they were not taut, and yielded so much that the boy tipped over backwards, with his feet in the air, somewhat after the style of the baby when frolicking on the blanket.

The two warriors, including the squaw, looked stolidly at him, and there was not the trace of a smile on any countenance. Agitated as was Jack, he could not repress a slight laugh when he witnessed the discomfiture of his companion.

"Mine gracious!" muttered Otto, clambering to the sitting position again; "I dinks dot some one have pulls de lodge away van I don't leans against him."

Jack shook his head.

"There's no use of trying that; before we could get through they could catch us both. If they attack us, we'll have to make the beat fight we can."

"And dot won't be good for nodding," was the truthful remark of Otto, who looked toward the two warriors again.

The Shawanoe must have felt he was entire master of the situation. As if to remove any doubt on that point in the minds of the youths, he now set down the gun he had picked up, leaned his own against the side of the lodge, close to it, and then seated himself about half way between the door and the sleeping baby. This placed him opposite Wish-o-wa-tum and closer to the entrance where were Otto and Jack. For the latter to pass out, they must rush by both warriors, a feat utterly impossible, should the Indians object. It was equally beyond their power to secure the guns, which would have proven potent factors in settling the question.

"I believe he has left the rifles there on purpose to tempt us to make a dash for them," said Jack, half inclined to accept the challenge, hopeless as it was.

"Dot ish vot they does him for," assented Otto.

Jack was strongly of the belief that other Shawanoes were near. It was unreasonable to suppose that a single warrior would have crossed the Mississippi alone, when a dozen of them had proven unable to bring the boys to terms.

"They have found we are in here," was the thought of the boy, "and becoming tired of waiting for us, have sent this one to talk with the Osage and to hurry us out. Ah, why did Deerfoot leave us so soon? If we ever needed him, now is the time."

The name of the wonderful youth gave a new turn to the thoughts of the lad. He asked himself whether it was probable that the Shawanoes and Miamis had sent a party over to pursue the boys alone, or to revenge themselves upon Deerfoot. Their enmity against the latter must be tenfold greater than it could be against any one else.

The most natural decision to which the lad could come was that the hostiles were numerous enough to divide and follow both trails. At any rate it was improbable, as has already been said, that the task of running the youths to earth was entrusted to a single warrior.

While Wish-o-wa-tum and his latest visitor were talking in their odd, granting fashion, the boys carefully studied their countenances, in the vain effort to read the meaning of the words that passed their lips. They occasionally glanced at the squaw, who manifested more interest than was expected. Sometimes she held the pipe for a minute or two motionless, her eyes on the warriors, as if anxious to catch every word. Then she would give a snuff or grunt, lean forward and stir the fire and smoke with great vigor.

To the amazement of the listening boys, the red men all at once changed their language to the English—or rather they attempted to do so, for they made sorry work of it.

"Dog Deerfoot—he dog," was the somewhat obscure remark of the latest arrival.

"Him so," nodded Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, who probably had never beard of the individual until within the last few minutes.

"Deerfoot dog—coward—shoot Injin no more."

Wish-o-wa-tum started a reply in English, but the difficulty was such that he slid back into his own lingo. Consequently, the purport of what he said was lost upon the youths. Jack Carleton, however, was quick enough to suspect the meaning, of the proceeding which troubled him so much at first. The words in broken English were intended for the friends of Deerfoot. It was characteristic of the Shawanoe visitor that he should attempt to play upon the feelings of the hapless boys.

"Deerfoot dead," he added, with a sidelong glance toward the latter, which confirmed the suspicion of the young Kentuckian.

Otto started on hearing the words, but whispered, as he hitched closer to his friend:

"I don't dinks so."

"Nor do I—hark!"

"How die?" asked Wish-o-wa-tum again struggling with the tongue to which he was a subject rather than of which he was master.

"Arorara threw him down," replied the visitor, striking his fist against his breast to signify the name was his own; "jump on him—take scalp. Deerfoot dog!"

"I know how deceitful the Indians are," said Jack in the same low tone, "but that fellow don't know bow to lie in English. I should like to see the warrior that can throw Deerfoot down and take his scalp."

The Shawanoe seemed to have overheard the expression, or at least suspected its meaning, guarded though the words were in their utterance, for he leaped to his feet and again striking his fist against his chest, exclaimed in hot anger:

"Deerfoot dog—Deerfoot dead! Arorara take scalp."

To the amazement of Jack Carleton, Otto also sprang to his feet, and struck his chest a resounding thump.

"Arorara ish one pig liar!" he shouted; "he is a liar as never vos! He says dot Deerfoot is dead, and dere stands Deerfoot now!"

And as the German lad thundered the words, he pointed toward the deerskin, which had been flung back once more.

CHAPTER XXXI

PURSUER AND PURSUED

When Deerfoot the Shawanoe encountered his enemy in the path and turned over the rifle to him, he knew that his leniency toward his implacable foe had not softened his heart in the least. He only awaited the opportunity to turn like a rattlesnake on his magnanimous master, and the youth therefore took particular care that such opportunity should not be given him.

Deerfoot held his tomahawk tightly grasped and poised, determined to hurl it with resistless and unerring aim on the very first move of the warrior against him. He remained as rigid as bronze until the other was a couple of rods distant. Then he noiselessly shoved back the tomahawk in his girdle, picked up his bow and vanished like a shadow. When the warrior turned, as the reader will recall, he saw no one.

Deerfoot was confident that after such a meeting, the one whom he had spared would not follow him. He would be glad enough to escape altogether without arousing the wrath of him who would not show mercy a second time. Nevertheless, the matchless youth sped along the path in the gathering gloom, with that swiftness which earned him his expressive name while he was yet a mere boy. No man, American or Caucasian, could hold his own against him in his phenomenal fleetness. He swept through the forest, never pausing, but darting forward like a bird on the wing, that eludes by the marvelous quickness of eye the labyrinth of limbs and obstructions which interpose almost every second across his line of flight.

Not until he had sped fully a half mile did slacken in the slightest his astonishing pace, and then there was not the least quickening of the pulse or hastening of the gentle breath. Had chose, he could have maintained the same for hours without discomfort or fatigue.

While, in one sense, Deerfoot was fleeing a Shawanoe, he was, in the same sense, pursue another, in whom his chief interest centered. The night deepened, and the moon, climbing above the tree tops, penetrated the gloomy recesses in few places with its silvery beams. When a mile had been passed, the young warrior paused and listened.

"He cannot follow me when his eyes see no trail," he said to himself, alluding to the Shawanoe whom he had spared.

It followed as a corollary that the same difficulty confronted him in pursuing his friends and the enemy who clung so close to their footprints. He stopped and softly passed his hand over the leafy ground. Not the slightest artificial depression was there; he had lost the trail of the party.

As it was utterly out of the question to learn how far he had diverged from the path, it was also beyond his power to return to it—that is, so long as the night lasted. The hoof-prints of the horse were cut so deep in the yielding earth that, with considerable trouble, he could have traced them among the trees; but even then he would lack the great help which the scout is generally able to command. In following a trail at night, he needs to possess a thorough knowledge of the country, so as to reason out the probable destination of his enemies, and consequently the general route they will take. More than likely they will aim for some crossing or camping ground, many miles in advance. The knowledge of the hunter may enable him to take a shorter course and, by putting his horse to his best, reach of them. About all he does, when engaged in this hot chase, is to take his observations at widely separated points, with a view of learning he is going astray.

It was precisely in this manner that the greatest scout of modern days, Kit Carson, led a party on the heels of a party of Mexican horse-thieves, with his steeds on a fall gallop the night thoroughly overtook the criminals at daylight, chastised them and recaptured the stolen property.

Deerfoot was lacking in that one requisite—familiarity with the country. He had journeyed up and down the shores of the Mississippi, had visited the settlement further west, and had gain much knowledge of the southwestern portion of the present State of Missouri; but this member of our Union occupies an immense area, and years would be needed to enable him to act as guide through every section of it. He had never traveled in many parts, and it will be perceived, therefore, that it was out of his power to theorize in the wonderfully brilliant manner which often made his successes due to an intuitive inspiration that at times seemed to hover on the verge of the unknowable sixth sense.

But strange must be the occasion in which Deerfoot would feel compelled to fold his, arms and say, "I can do no more."

He had stood less than three minutes in the attitude of deep attention, when he emitted a peculiar fluttering whistle, such as a timid night bird sometimes makes from its perch in the up most branches, while calling to its mate. It was still trembling on the air, when a response came from a point not far away and to the right. Could any one have seen the face of the youthful Shawanoe, he would have observed a faint but grim smile playing around his mouth.

He had uttered the signal which the Shawanoes rarely used. When members of their scouts became temporarily lost from each other, while in the immediate neighborhood of an enemy, and it was necessary they should locate themselves, they did so by means of the signal described. They refrained from appealing to it except in cases of the utmost urgency, for if used too often it was likely to become known to their enemies and its usefulness thus destroyed.

Deerfoot had secured a reply from the Shawanoe for whom he was hunting, and thus learned his precise whereabouts. He instantly began stealing his way toward him.

The usage among this remarkable tribe of Indians required him to repeat the peculiar cry after hearing it, and the party of the second should respond similarly. When the call had been wafted back and forth in this fashion, Shawanoe law forbade its repetition, except after a considerable interval, and then only under the most urgent necessity.

Deerfoot held his peace, though he knew warrior was awaiting his answer. Failing to call the response, the other would conclude that the signal was in truth the call of a bird; but to guard against any error, he repeated the tremulous whistle, when the stealthy Deerfoot was within a few rods.

The latter could have taken his life with suddenness almost of the lightning bolt, but he had no wish to do so. If Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub were in danger it would be from this warrior alone, and so long as Deerfoot could keep him "in hand" no such danger existed.

In the open forest, where the moonlight penetrated, a shadowy figure assumed shape, and the pursuer recognized it as that of the Indian whom he was so anxious to find. He had concluded to wait no longer, and was advancing in a blind way along the trail of the lads.

Deerfoot stooped and passed his hand over the ground. One sweep was enough to, identify the prints of the horse's hoofs, and the more delicate impressions made by shoes and moccasins. The young Shawanoe, by a careful examination of the trail, did that which will scarcely be believed: he ascertained that one pair of moccasins went forward and the other took the opposite course. Consequently, the Shawanoes had parted company at a point slightly in advance (it could not be far), and the warrior whom he saw must have waited where he was while the night was closing in.

A few rods further and a second examination revealed the trail of a single pair of moccasins, the line of demarcation had been passed.

All this time the elder was pushing among trees, Deerfoot catching a glimpse of him now and then, so as to be able to regulate his own pace that of his enemy. It was needful also that much circumspection should be used, for when one person can trace the movements of another, it follows that the possibilities are reciprocal and the law vice versa obtains. The youth therefore held resolutely back, and so guarded his movements that he was assured against detection by any glance the warrior might cast behind him.

The trees in front diminished in number and soon ceased altogether. The Shawanoe had reached the edge of a natural opening or clearing. Pausing a moment, he stepped out where the moon shone full upon him, and then halted again. Having the advantage of cover, Deerfoot slipped carefully forward, until he stood within a few yards of the red man, who little dreamed of the dreaded one that was within the throw of a tomahawk.

The elder Indian seemed to be speculating the probable course of the unconscious fugitives. It could not be supposed that he was familiar with the country (since his home was on the other side of the Mississippi), but like the majority of mankind when in difficulty, he was able to form a theory, but unlike that majority, he proved his faith in it by his works. Instead of following the footprints, he diverged to the right and coursed along the edge of the clearing, where he was almost entirely concealed by the shadow of the trees.

He had not gone far, when Deerfoot silently emerged from the wood. His keen eye revealed what must have been noticed by the other: on that spot the boys had stopped with the intention of encamping for the night. Had they remained, beyond all doubt one or both would have been slain, but from some cause (long since explained to the reader) they passed on.

Deerfoot hurried on with a speed that was almost reckless, for that marvelous intuition seemed to whisper that the crisis was near. His friends could not be far off, and the question of safety or danger must be speedily settled.

Just beyond the clearing, while hastening forward, he caught, the glow of the fire shining through the rents and crevices of the shabby skin of the Osage wigwam. He heard the of voices within, and a few seconds later he was peeping through the same orifice that had a similar purpose for jack Carleton when played the part of eavesdropper.

CHAPTER XXXII

TURNING THE TABLES

Although Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub understood nothing of the conversation (excepting the few words of mangled English) between Wish-o-wa-tum, the Osage chieftain, and the Shawanoe who entered his lodge, little was lost upon Deerfoot.

Without quoting the language, it may be said that Arorara declared the two boys to be thieves and wretches of the worst imaginable degree. They had stolen the horses of the Shawanoes and Miamis, and had treacherously shot, not only the warriors, but the squaws and papooses, when they lay asleep by their camp-fires.

Arorara said he had been sent by his people to follow across the river, and punish them for their many crimes. His purpose in placing the guns as he had done, near the entrance of the lodge, was to tempt the boys to make a rush to escape.

When they did so, Arorara proposed that he and Wish-o-wa-tum should leap upon them with knives.

When this plan was fully explained to the chief, he nodded his head and signified that he would willingly lend his hand. It was a matter of indifference to him, and, but for the coming of the Shawanoe, he probably would have allow the boys to depart without harm. With Wish-o-wa-tum the whole question resolved itself into one of policy. He lived alone and had never been disturbed by the white settlers, who were locating in different parts of the territory. If he should help in the taking off of youngsters, their friends would not be likely to suspect him, and there was little probability of the truth ever reaching their ears.

But, if he refused the request of the guest, the fierce tribe to which he belonged would be sure to go out of their way to punish him. He therefore gave his assent, and added that he was ready do his part whenever Arorara wished.

It was at that juncture that the two red men essayed expression in English, and Deerfoot saw that he must interfere at once. While moving to the front of the lodge, he scanned his immediate surroundings, so far as he could, but neither saw nor heard anything of the other Shawanoe. In short, from what has already been told, it will be seen that it was impossible for him to be in that vicinity.

Throwing back the deerskin, the youthful warrior stepped quickly within the wigwam. His bow was flung over his back, and, being perfectly familiar with the interior, he extended his hand and caught up the weapon nearest him, standing erect and facing all the occupants as did Arorara a short time before. This movement and the entrance itself were made with such deftness that no one observed his presence, with the exception of Otto Relstaub, who by accident happened to look toward him just as he entered.

But the startling words of the German lad, accompanied by the extension of his arm and finger toward the door, turned every eye like a flash in that direction. They were just in time to catch a glimpse of the arms of Deerfoot, as they were raised like the flitting of the wings of a bird, and almost in the same breath the youth was seen to be looking along the gleaming barrel pointed the breast of the astounded warrior.

"Dog of a Shawanoe!" exclaimed Deerfoot, his voice as firm and unwavering as his nerves; "coward! Serpent that creeps in the grass and strikes the heel of the hunter; Arorara speaks with a double tongue; he says he took the scalp of Deerfoot, but the scalp of Deerfoot is here, and he dares Arorara and Waughtauk and Tecumseh and all the chiefs and sachems and warriors of the Shawanoes, to take it!"

The rifle, with the hammer drawn back, was flung to the ground, and whipping out his hunting knife, the youth grasped the handle with fingers of steel and assumed a defiant attitude. His face was aflame with passion, and his breast became a raging volcano of wrath.

In truth, Deerfoot had lost control of himself for the moment. An overwhelming sense of his persecution caused his nature to revolt, and he longed for the excuse to leap upon the Shawanoe who had followed him across the Mississippi. There was a single moment when he gathered his muscles for a tiger-like bound at his enemy, he was restrained only by the pitiful expression on the terrified countenance.

The youth addressed his words to Arorara and his blazing eyes were fixed on him. He had no quarrel with Wish-o-wa-tum and understood his position, but he would not have shrunk from an attack by both. Deerfoot knew that either was more powerful than he, but in cat-like agility there could be no comparison between them.

Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, however, showed very plainly that he held the invader of his lodge in great fear. He displayed visible emotion, when listening to the ringing words of defiance; but he possessed sense enough to perceive they were not addressed to him, and he continued to smoke his pipe in silence.

The squaw at the further end of the wigwam started, and with the pipe in her grasp, stared with a dazed expression at the daring intruder; then, like the true mother the world over, she leaned forward, caught up her sleeping infant and held him to her breast, ready to defend him with her life.

Arorara looked in turn straight into the burning countenance of Deerfoot. The elder warrior had unconsciously assumed an admirable pose, his left foot forward, his hand resting on the handle of his tomahawk, his whole position that of a gathering his strength for a tremendous leap. But though his fingers toyed with the weapon at his waist, they did not draw it forth; it was for that precise signal the youth was waiting.

While in this attitude, which might have been accepted as indicating the most heroic courage, Deerfoot saw the lump or Adam's apple rise sink in his throat, precisely as if he were to swallow something. It was done twice, and was a sign of weakness on the part of Arorara.

The consuming anger of Deerfoot burned out like a flash of powder. Hatred became contempt; enmity turned to scorn, and the mortal peril of the warrior vanished.

"Who now is the dog?" asked Deerfoot in English, with a curl of his lip. "Arorara is brave when he stands before the youths who have no weapons; he then speaks with the double tongue; he cannot utter the truth. Arorara has his tomahawk and knife, Deerfoot has his; let them fight and see whose scalp shall remain."

"Don't you do dot, old Roarer," exclaimed Otto Relstaub, stepping forward in much excitement; "if you does, den you won't be old Roarer not any more, as nefer vose-yaw! Dunderation!"

"Let them alone," commanded Jack Carleton, catching his arm and drawing him back; "don't interfere."

"Don't you sees?" asked Otto, turning his head and speaking in a whisper; "I want to scare old Roarer."

"There's no call for doing that, for he's so seared now he can't speak; he won't fight Deerfoot."

Arorara possessed less courage than Tecumseh, who, when challenged by Deerfoot in almost the same manner, would have fought him to the death had not others interposed. The Shawanoe was now in mortal terror of such an encounter.

"Deerfoot and Arorara are brothers," said he, swallowing again the lump that rose in his throat; "they belong to the same totem; they are Shawanoes; the Great Spirit would frown to see them harm each other."

The words were spoken in Shawanoe, but Jack and Otto saw, from the looks and manner of the elder warrior, that he was subdued and could not be forced into a struggle with the lithe and willowy youth.

It was not flattering to the pride of the young Kentuckian and his companion that while Arorara felt no fear of them jointly, he was terrified by the bearing of Deerfoot, who voluntarily relinquished the advantage he possessed in the hope that it would induce the other to fight.

The abject words of Arorara caused a reaction in the feelings of Deerfoot. His conscience condemned him for his outburst of passion, and had the situation permitted, he would have prostrated himself in prayer and begged the forgiveness of the Great Spirit whom he had offended.

But nothing in his face or voice or manner betrayed the change.

He remained standing in front of the deerskin, which was thrown back, so that the light from the camp-fire shone against the gloom beyond; his left hand held the knife with the same rigid grasp, and the limbs, which in the American Indian rarely show much muscular development, were as drawn as steel.

The squaw clasped the sleeping infant to her husky bosom and glared at Deerfoot, like a lioness at bay. Had he advanced to do harm to her offspring, she would have sprang upon him with the fierceness of that beast and defended the little one to the death. Had the youth assailed Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, probably she would have sat an interested spectator of the scene until it became clear which way it was going, when she might have wrapped her baby in bison-skin, placed him carefully away, and taken a part in the struggle.

The Osage resumed the deliberate puffing of his pipe, but glanced from one face to the other of the two Shawanoes. Stolid and lazy as he was, by nature and training, he could not help feeling stirred by the curious scene.

Jack Carleton and Otto were on their feet, studying the two countenances with equal intentness. Both were cheered by the consciousness that danger no longer threatened them, and that whatever followed must accord with the fact that Deerfoot the Shawanoe was master of the situation.

CHAPTER XXXIII

CONCLUSION

"My brother speaks with a single tongue," said Deerfoot, replying to the cringing words of Arorara: "the Great Spirit will frown when he sees two brothers fighting each other. Deerfoot has slain more than one Shawanoe and has spared others; he will spare Arorara; he may sit down beside the Osage warrior and smoke pipe with him."

Immediately the youth shoved his knife in place, and for the first time seemed to become aware that he stood in the presence of others. He bestowed no attention on Wish-o-wa-tum or his squaw, but addressed his young friends.

"Let my brothers go from this lodge and make their way homeward; Arorara will not pursue them."

"Arorara will do them no harm," said the individual in as cringing manner as before.

"No, he will not, for Deerfoot will watch and slay Arorara if he seeks to do so," quietly remarked the youth, who, in every sense of the word, continued master of the situation.

"Let us do vot he tells us," suggested Otto, moving awkwardly toward the door.

Deerfoot stepped slightly aside, to make room for them, and Jack accepted the movement as an invitation for them to pass out. Otto held back so as to permit the other to go first, and he followed close behind him. Otto did not glance at or speak to either. He had his misgivings concerning not only Arorara, but the Osage, who might resent this invasion of his castle. Like the finely trained Indian, he "took no chances."

Jack and Otto were intensely interested in the situation, but they did not forget themselves. The former, as he passed out, picked up his own rifle, while Otto took the one belonging to the Indian, who was left at liberty to hunt the gun left on the clearing by the German lad when he prepared to start his camp-fire for the evening. Thus each boy was furnished with the weapon which is indispensable to the ranger of the woods.

Every one can understand the reluctance of the two to walk from the lodge with their turned upon their foe. With all their confidence in the prowess of Deerfoot, they felt a misgiving which was sure to distress them, so long as the enemies were in sight. On reaching the outside, therefore, they turned about, walked slowly backwards, and watched the wigwam.

The deerskin being drawn aside, they could the figure of the young Shawanoe, who had stepped back in front of it. Just beyond was partly visible the subdued Shawanoe, he and his conqueror obscuring the squaw, still further away, while Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder was out of range.

"I think that little place saw more surprises, this evening than it will ever see again," said Jack Carleton, bending his head with the purpose of gaining a better view; "in fact it has been a series of surprise parties from the beginning."

"Yaw, dot ish vot I dinks all a'while, but mine gracious!"

Hitherto it had been the running vines, growing close to the ground, which caused overturnings of Otto, but now it was another obstruction in the shape of a tree trunk, over which Jack stepped, taking care however, to say nothing to his companion concerning it. The smaller sticks lying near made it look as if the trunk served to help the squaw of Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, when she was breaking or cutting wood for the wigwam.

Be that as it may, the heels of Otto struck it and he went over on his back, with hat and gun flying and shoes pointed upward.

"I dinks dot vos a pig vine," he said, clambering to his feet and shaking himself together again.

"You're getting to be the best fellow at tumbling I ever saw," said Jack, suppressing, as well as he could, his laughter.

"Dot ish so," assented the victim, too good-natured to find fault after his fortunate escape.

By this time, they were so far from the Osage lodge that very little could be seen of the interior, and they turned round and walked side by side.

"It seems like a dream," remarked the young Kentuckian; "a few minutes ago, there was no escape for us, and now I cannot think we are in the least danger."

"Who dinks dot de Shawanoes comes over der river after us?" asked Otto.

"Nobody besides Deerfoot: there isn't anything that he doesn't think of that is worth thinking about."

"Den vy he leaves us, when we leaves him?"

"I've asked myself that question, Otto; it must be that, after we parted, he learned something which told him the Shawanoes had crossed the Mississippi after us. He changed his course and came to our help, and it's mighty fortunate he did so."

"I guess dot ish so; we will asks him when we don't see him."

"I have my doubt about seeing him again."

"How ish dot?"

"You remember he said more than once he had reason to take another course, and he did do so. He could not have been blamed for believing we were able to get along without him, after entering Louisiana. At any rate, he will think so now."

This was a reasonable conclusion, and Otto agreed with his friend that they were not likely to meet the extraordinary youth for some time to come. He would probably take another direction, for, after the threat he uttered to Arorara, and the panic into which he had thrown him, that warrior would be glad to hasten back to his friends, who were equally eager to reach Kentucky without loss of time.

The moon was high in the heavens and the woods open. Much to the relief of Otto, the vines gave him no further trouble, and they progressed without difficulty. The neighborhood was strange to them, but they had tramped the wilderness too often to care. They were sure of the general direction they were following, and were confident now of reaching home, which could be no great distance away.

Such a buoyancy of spirits came over the boys that it was hard to restrain themselves from shouting and leaping with joy. But for the mishaps attending such sport they would have run at full speed and flung their hats in air. Several miles were passed before they became thoughtful and quiet.

"Mine gracious!" abruptly exclaimed Otto, stopping short and striking his knee a resounding whack; "vere ain't dot hoss?"

"Had you forgotten about him?" asked companion with a smile.

"I nefer dinks apout him since we comes the lodge."

"I have, more than once; I made up my mind, when I found you in the wigwam, that if you got out alive, I would insist that we go straight home and think no more about the animal; but matters are in a better shape, and we'll wait till to-morrow before we decide."

"Dot suits me," assented Otto, nodding his head several times.

As nearly as they could conjecture, they were some six miles from the residence of Wish-o-wa-tum or Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, when they decided to stop for the night. They were fully warranted in believing that all danger from red men was ended; and, as they had no means of finding a good camping site, they stopped at once and began gathering fuel. The task was soon over, and the flint and steel gave the speedily grew into a roaring blaze, the boys sat and looked in each other's face.

The night was cool, but pleasant. Clouds, however, were continually drifting across the face of the moon, and a certain restlessness of feeling, of which even the rugged youngsters were sensible, told that a change was coming.

The hour spent in the Osage wigwam was redolent of smoking venison, and the boys smacked their lips and shook their heads, after the manner of youngsters, with healthful appetites but there was no way of procuring food, and they philosophically accepted the situation, refraining from reference to eatables until there was a prospect of obtaining them.

Through all the eventful experience of the evening, Jack and Otto had retained their blankets. The circumstances were such that neither of the Indians with whom they were brought in contact cared to secure them, though it may be suspected that, Wish-o-wa-tum would have laid claim to that of the German, except for the visit of Arorara and Deerfoot.

Seated by the cheerful fire, the friends talked in rambling fashion until drowsy, when they wrapped their blankets around them and lay down to sleep. Some risk was involved in the proceeding, inasmuch as the fire was likely to attract wild animals to the spot, but providentially none disturbed the young pioneers, who slept quiet and security until the sun was in the sky.

The first step was a hunt for breakfast, for Jack and Otto were in a state of ravenous hunger. They separated and were gone a half hour, when the rifle of the young Kentuckian rang out and he soon reappeared by the renewed camp-fire with a fine wild turkey, which, it need not be said, afforded a nourishing and delightful meal for them both.

"Otto," said Jack, springing to his feet like a refreshed giant, "we must hunt again for the horse."

"Dot ishn't vot I don't dinks too—dot ish I does dinks so."

"And you must now try to straighten out your English, so that Deerfoot and I may not be ashamed of you."

Otto nodded his head by way of assent, while he thought hard about the proper manner of expressing himself.

But an almost insurmountable difficulty confronted the boys from the first. It was impossible to make search for the missing animal until his footprints should be found, and the only way in which that could be done was by retracing, to a considerable extent, their own footsteps. Though somewhat disappointed, Jack Carleton was not surprised, when taking his bearings by the sun, he learned they had wandered from the proper path. They had turned to the left, until the course was south of southwest. They had gone far astray indeed.

The weather became more threatening. The sun had been above the horizon less than an hour when its light was obscured by clouds, and the windows of heaven were certain to be opened long before the orb should sink in the west.

Two miles were traveled, when the boys found themselves so close to a large clearing, that they wondered how it escaped their notice the preceding night. It covered more than an acre, and at one time was the site of an Indian village. As a matter of course a small stream ran near, and the red men who at no remote day made their dwelling places there must have numbered fully a hundred.

While wandering over the tract and looking about them, their eyes rested on an elevation no more than a third of a mile distant. It was thickly wooded, but a prodigious rock near the crest resembled a spot that had been burned clear.

"Helloa!" suddenly called out Jack Carleton, while gazing in the direction, "there's someone on that rock."

"I guess it ish a crow or bear—no, it ishn't."

"My gracious! it's Deerfoot."

A moment's scrutiny proved that the individual, beyond all question was an Indian. Furthermore, he was making signals, probably having descried them before they saw him.

"I guess he only means to salute us," said Jack.

Such seemed to be the case. The red man who was Deerfoot, waved his hand in friendly salutation several minutes, then leaped from the rock and vanished. It looked as if he had taken several hours to assure himself the boys were in no danger from the Shawanoes; and, having done so, he now bade them good-bye in his characteristic fashion, giving his whole thought and energy to the business which carried him far into the southwestern portion of the present State of Missouri.

Jack and Otto gazed in the direction of the rock a considerable while, hoping their friend would reappear, or that he had started to join them; but they were compelled to believe he had left, and for a time at least, would be seen no more.

The boys followed the back trail some distance further, when to their delight they came upon the footprints of the missing horse, marked so distinctly in the yielding earth that there could be no mistake as to their identity.

"Now, that's what I call good luck," exclaimed Jack, slapping his friend on the back.

"Dot ish vot I dinks—how ish dot?" asked Otto with a beaming face, alluding to his own diction.

"Capital!—think twice before you speak once, and before long you won't be the worst bungler with your tongue that lives west of the Alleghenies."

'The German gazed at his companion as if on the point of reproving him, but concluded to take time to put his words in proper shape.

An interesting fact was noticed by both: the trail verged toward the elevation where they last saw Deerfoot. Jack Carleton was set to thinking and speculating over the situation. He asked himself whether, when Deerfoot was about to pass out of their sight, his gesticulations did not signify more than his friends supposed.

"I wonder if he did not mean to tell us the horse was not far off: I believe he did."

"I—dinks—ot—ish-likely—vot—he—does," assented Otto, speaking with such deliberation that Jack looked in his face, laughed and nodded his head, approvingly.

"We shall soon find out, for the trail is plain and must be new."

But an unpleasant truth forced itself on their notice. Rain drops were pattering upon the leaves, and the darkening sky presaged a storm.

As the best and indeed the only way to protect themselves against a good drenching, the boys selected a tree whose foliage was particularly abundant, and seated themselves on the ground with their backs against it. Then the blankets were gathered over their heads and around their shoulders, and they felt as secure as if in their own log cabins, miles distant.

The rain fell steadily for nearly two hours, when it gradually ceased, and Jack and Otto quickly made ready to resume their journey. The leaves, twigs and limbs were dripping with moisture, so that, with the utmost care, it was impossible to advance far without their garments becoming saturated. That, however, was not a serious matter, and caused little remark.

For some rods the hoof-prints of the horse were followed, but then came the trouble. The rain had beaten down the leaves on the ground with such force that even the keen eyes of the young Kentuckian began to doubt. Finally the two paused, and Otto, having carefully prepared himself, said:

"I dinks dot ish no use for us to hunt the horse."

"I am sorry to give it up and own we are beaten, but that is what we shall have to do."

"Vy do we does dot?"

"We are trying to follow a Lost Trail."

"If we does dot den we gots lost ourselves."

"More than likely we shall, but I am afraid that if we go home without the colt, your father will punish you."

Otto shrugged his shoulders.

"It vill not be the first times dot he does dot. I can stand it, I dinks."

"It will be a great pity, nevertheless, and shall do my best to shame him if he should be mean enough to hold any such purpose."

"Mebbe after we gots home and stays one while, we start out agin some times more and look for the golt."

"I have been thinking of the same thing," said Jack, who now changed their course with the view of reaching home with the least possible delay.

The boys pushed forward with so much energy that on the next day, before the sun had reached the meridian, they arrived home, where for present we must bid them good-bye.

But what befell them and Deerfoot in the eventful journey which they speedily ventured upon in search of the LOST TRAIL, will be told in Number Two of the Log Cabin Series, entitled "CAMP-FIRE AND WIGWAM."

THE END