Deerfoot in the Mountains by Edward Sylvester Ellis (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📕

notice anyone except Deerfoot. His eyes were fixed on the young Shawanoe, and we all thought he meant to attack him.
"Deerfoot saw him enter, stopped speaking and looked steadily at the chief as he drew near. Deerfoot always carried his knife at his girdle, though of course he had laid aside his gun. I remember wondering why he did not draw his weapon, but, instead of doing so, he placed his hands behind his back and calmly surveyed Taggarak, without the least sign of fear. From what I afterward learned, I am sure that if my father had attacked the Shawanoe, the chief would have been quickly overcome, if not killed.
"Within two paces of Deerfoot, Taggarak wheeled about, _faced_ his people and made an impassioned avowal of his belief in the Christian religion. He declared that the true God had spoken to him when he tried to hide himself in the woods and to close his ears against His words. That God had not allowed him to sleep or eat or drink or rest till he threw himself on his face, and with streaming eyes begged Him to forgive and take him into His favor.
"Never was there such excitement among the Blackfoot tribe as was caused by the declaration of their greatest war chief that he had become a Christian. It almost rent the tribe in twain. We had a number of villages and different chiefs, but Taggarak was the greatest of them all.
"It was clear to everyone that he looked upon Deerfoot the Shawanoe as more than an ordinary human being. In truth I thought and still think the same, and I believe you will agree with me when you hear the rest of my story. Taggarak asked Deerfoot whether he should give up his chieftaincy, and was ready to do whatever the Shawanoe advised. Deerfoot told him to remain chief as long as he lived, but to be merciful to his enemies, never to fight except in defence of his home and people, and to pray to God morning and night and to do all he could to please Him in his actions, his words and his thoughts. Deerfoot did much in the way of teaching him, and Taggarak became a Christian, as did my mother and myself and others of our tribe, though I never understood all the height and depth and breadth of God's love and plans until I had grown to manhood and talked with the missionaries.
"Christianity would have been firmly planted among my people but for the acts of the white men themselves. When the expedition of Lewis and Clark came through our country one of them killed a Blackfoot. No doubt there was some justification for the act, but it made our tribe the enemies of the white men, and many who professed to love the God of the palefaces now cast away such love and would have none of it. Taggarak was much grieved and indignant over the action of the white men, but nothing could weaken or shake his faith in Christianity."
(The incident alluded to occurred July 27, 1806. A party of Blackfeet stole a number of horses belonging to Lewis and Clark's party, were pursued, and one of the Indians killed and another wounded. The tribe was so embittered toward the whites that they were treacherous enemies to them for many years afterward.)
"From the year following this sad event, however, the authority of Taggarak waned. He did not care for power, and was content to let it slip gradually from him and pass to others. I could have become chief had I wished it, but I knew I was distrusted because I professed Christianity, and the Blackfeet and I thought so differently about everything that I remained a simple warrior, content to serve my father and mother, as an obedient son.
"I did not know for years of the encounter between Taggarak and Deerfoot in the wood, when the chief sought his life, but was overcome and then spared by the Shawanoe. Deerfoot never spoke of it, and I was almost grown when my father told my mother and me of the strange incident, which was the means of the chief's accepting the religion that the youth taught by word and example.
"When Deerfoot left our village, Taggarak begged him to visit him again. He urged so hard that the youth said he would do so if he could, but he saw little hope and thought their next meeting would have to wait till both passed into the hunting grounds above.
"Taggarak meditated much over the coming of Deerfoot. As he grew older he often went to the elevation, a little way from our village, and near where he had been overcome by the Shawanoe, and passed hours gazing toward the East, looking and hoping for sight of the youth who did not come. He always went alone to the spot and did not suspect his action was noticed by anyone. But at the request of my mother, I stealthily followed the chief. He seated himself on a broad, flat rock, which gave him a view of many miles of mountain, wood and stream, and it seemed that for the hour I watched him he never took his gaze from the point in the sky where the sun first showed itself. I have sometimes wondered whether my father mistook any approaching warrior for the Shawanoe. I never learned, for not once did he ever refer to those lonely visits to the elevation.
"One day my father said, with his old sternness of manner, that since Deerfoot was not coming to see him, I must take a message to the Shawanoe in his distant home. It was a startling command, but was not unwelcome to me. I had heard much of the white man's country, and knew the palefaces were fast pushing into our own. I had listened to Mul-tal-la's wonderful stories times without number, and often resolved that when an opportunity came I should visit the white towns and settlements.
"I was glad, therefore, when my father spoke as he did, and still more glad when Mul-tal-la, although he had a wife and two children, offered to go with me. He was anxious to see Deerfoot and the acquaintances he had made many years before, whose memory was always a pleasure to him.
"My father's message to the Shawanoe amounted to little. I was to tell him the chief was still true to his faith, and to ask him whether he could come to the chief, and, if he could not, whether he still remembered Taggarak. That was all.
"I was a grown man when, with Mul-tal-la as my companion, I rode down from the Blackfoot country and we set out on the long journey he had made more than twenty years before. He remembered every river, stream, mountain and prairie, though the settlements had brought many changes, and on the way to the Ohio he met several acquaintances.
"It would be of no interest to tell of our journey, though we had more than one adventure. The first place we visited was the little town of Woodvale, so familiar to Mul-tal-la, and which had grown to that extent that it had taken a new name.
"There we found George and Victor Shelton, almost in middle life, both married and among the leading citizens. They were filled with joy to see Mul-tal-la, and did all they could to make our visit pleasant. But we had talked only a little while when we were grieved to learn that Deerfoot, who had moved to the west of the Mississippi, had been dead a good many years. Not only that, but the manner of his death was the saddest of which I had ever heard. (See "The Last War Trail.")
"We stayed for several weeks in Ohio and met many old friends of the Shawanoe. The one whom I best remember was Simon Kenton, who had great fame as a hunter, and who had always been a close comrade of Deerfoot. He was an old man when I saw him, but as strong and active as many who had lived only half his years. He came to Woodvale the night before we left on our return and stayed with Victor Shelton. His eyes filled with tears when he spoke of Deerfoot, and said that the memory of the brave, blameless life he lived in all circumstances had more to do with making Kenton himself a Christian than did the camp meeting at which he professed conversion.
"Well, we set out for home, and though a part of the journey was made in winter we met with no mishap. When we arrived, Mul-tal-la went straight to his lodge to see his wife and children and I hurried to my home, where I knew the chief had long expected me. I was greatly relieved to find him and my mother well.
"When I came into my father's presence, and before I had time to do more than speak my pleasure, he raised his hand as a command for me to keep silent.
"'I know what you would say, but you need not tell me. Deerfoot has been here and told me all.'
"'But Deerfoot is dead,' I replied; 'that cannot be.'
"'Did I not say he has visited me since you were gone, and told me all?'
"And then, forbidding me to open my lips, he related the full story of Deerfoot's death. He gave the particulars, and was not wrong in the slightest one. The chief need not have forbidden me to speak, for I could not say a word for a long time afterward. He told me nothing more. I cannot explain it."
(Possibly psychologists may find the explanation of this remarkable fact in mental telepathy, but how shall we explain the still more extraordinary statement that follows?)
"My mother had grown old and feeble and died a few months after I came home. I noticed that father stopped going to the elevation beyond the village and looking toward the rising sun for the coming of Deerfoot. Nor did he seem to wish to speak of him, though I know the Shawanoe was much in his thoughts. The chief gradually failed, and when the weather grew cold he did not leave his lodge.
"He and I lived together. I gave him affectionate attention and did not let him lack for comfort. Others often visited him, for the Blackfeet could not forget that he had been one of their greatest war chiefs. Our lodge was not fashioned like the others. One side was the face of a large rock, against which we always kindled the fire. At each of the opposite two corners was a strong post. These were connected at the tops by a horizontal beam and from each post was stretched another beam, whose farther end rested on the rock. This and the three beams gave support for the framework of the roof, which was made of the boughs of trees. The sides and walls were of thick bark lined with buffalo robes. This made the square room below free of all supports or posts. My bed of furs was at one side and that of my father opposite. An opening in the roof, where it joined the rock and exactly over the fire, gave an outlet for the smoke.
"One calm, cold night in autumn, after I had piled a deal of wood on the blaze and seen that my father was warmly wrapped in furs and sleeping comfortably, I lay down and fell asleep almost at once. It could not have been long afterward that I was awakened by the sound of people talking together. At first I thought they were outside the lodge, but the fire was burning so bright that it was like noonday within and I saw that the two