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

hot pursuit. When overtaken, and sometimes before, the fugitive would wheel and cuff and bite at the other, as if in a dreadful rage. You know how amusing the antics of kittens and puppies are. Imagine, if you can, two enormous bears disporting themselves in the same comical fashion, and you will understand why the Shawanoe watched the couple minute after minute, forgetting for the time the serious business on which he was engaged.
But this was not all that attracted him in his surroundings. From out the undergrowth on the northern side of the stream forming the outlet of the lake came two or three hundred buffaloes, their dusky bodies imparting a strange appearance of agitation to that portion of the landscape. They headed for the stream, which was no more than a hundred feet in width, and plunged in, pausing long enough to drink, flirting their tails and tossing their heads, bellowing and crowding one another. The water was too shallow to force them to swim, but it was splashed and flung in all directions. When those at the front emerged they broke into a gallop, with the others dashing tumultuously after them.
Their course brought them within a few rods of the base of the elevation on which Deerfoot was standing. He walked down the slope until quite near the head of the herd, when he brought his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet just back of the foreleg of one of the bulls. The stricken beast made a single plunging dive and then rolled over dead. Being on the fringe of the herd he was not trampled upon, and none of his companions paid any attention to him. The bison is--or rather _was_--a stupid creature, his own destruction often resulting from his lack of ordinary intelligence.
Deerfoot waited until the last animal had passed, when he went forward to where the carcass of the game lay and deftly extracted its tongue. He did not touch any other portion, but, washing the delicacy in the stream, carried it to the small grove of trees which he had fixed upon in his mind as the place of the encampment of the Nez Perces, on their first day after leaving their village.
Before he reached the shelter of the clump of trees the quick eye of the Shawanoe saw the imprints of hoofs, and signs of a party of horsemen having halted at the spot. Chief Amokeat and his Nez Perces had made their first meal on fish drawn from the lake, as was shown by the fragments of their feast scattered round. Considerable ashes indicated the spot where a fire had been kindled, in the usual primitive manner of spinning a light pointed stick, whose sharpened end was thrust into another dry branch.
Thus Deerfoot's calculations proved to be right. He had reached the scene of the midday halt of the Nez Perces by traveling about two-thirds of the distance of his predecessors. With his flint and steel he soon had a blaze going. Over it he broiled the bison tongue, cut into thin strips, and ate his fill. The meal was a big one for him, and he would not go out of his way to procure any more food for twenty-four hours or more. Taking a long draught from the cold, crystalline waters, he resumed his journey, which was due north, his blanket fastened about his shoulders, and his rifle sometimes resting in the crook made by bending his left arm at the elbow, after the style of modern sportsmen, held sometimes in a trailing position, and again reposing upon his shoulder.
For two miles or more he kept to the trail, inasmuch as it was direct and nothing was to be gained by leaving it. With his senses alert, he finally turned to the right, in order to take advantage of a mass of rocks on ground so elevated that a more extensive view than the former one could be secured. He climbed as nimbly as a monkey to the top, glanced over the many square miles spread out before his gaze and then looked northward.
Ah! he saw something suggestive. The glass was pointed toward the spot and instantly confirmed the unaided eye. In the horizon, in the mist of a stretch of wooded country, he observed a faint, almost invisible line of vapor climbing upward into the cold blue sky, and gradually dissolving, until at the height of a hundred feet or less all trace of it vanished.
The most careful scrutiny could not tell anything more. The spot was between fifteen and twenty miles away, with the roughest sort of country intervening. It was a good day's journey distant, but in the same moment that Deerfoot made his interesting discovery he resolved to thread his way to the place without a minute's halt on his part until he reached his destination.
His quick mind instantly saw several explanations of the "sign." It could not be the Nez Perces riding north, for it was impossible that they had lagged to such an extent on the road. If it was Amokeat and his party, they must be returning from their raid, or hunting expedition, or whatever had engaged their energies. It would seem more likely that the Indians belonged to some other tribe. Be that as it may, the only means of answering the question was by finding out for himself, and that Deerfoot started to do with the grim, unshakable resolution of his nature.
With all his matchless swiftness and endurance, he would not have been able to travel the distance until the night was well advanced; for, though there were numerous places where he broke into his fleet lope, and more than once rose to a higher pace, he was compelled to make detours that greatly lengthened the distance and added to the labor. Again, a moderate walk was the best he could do.
About the middle of the afternoon he came upon the bank of a deep, swift stream fully a hundred yards wide. No doubt he could have found a ford had he taken the time to search for it, but the minutes were too valuable to waste. With hardly a moment's hesitation he took three steps over the flinty floor, and then found he had to swim. He had not so much as loosened the blanket looped about his shoulders and which threatened to interfere with the movements of his arms. He held his rifle above his head, so as to prevent any water running into the barrel, either at the muzzle or by percolation at the vent, and swam with his other arm and his feet. For a portion of the way he "trod water," apparently with the same ease that he walked upon solid earth. So he overcame the powerful current and emerged almost directly opposite the point where he had entered. You will remember that in approaching the stream he left the trail some time before, but he knew it was not far off, and doubtless would have led him to a ford. That he would not dally long enough to hunt out the more convenient crossing place was another illustration of Deerfoot's indifference to his own comfort. What though his garments were dripping when he stepped upon solid earth again, and the air was almost wintry in its chill, he cared naught. The exercise threw his frame into a glow and the moisture gradually left his clothing.
A few miles farther and the Shawanoe solved one question over which he had been speculating. In the distance he caught sight of a party of horsemen approaching from the direction of the camp whose smoke he had noticed hours before. They were no more than two or three miles distant, and when first seen were coming almost in a direct line for Deerfoot.
The first sight was that of a single horseman, who had ridden up the farther side of a slope, and came into view as he neared the top. Without pausing, he began the descent, and was followed by others, all in single file, until seventeen rode into the field of vision. Before Deerfoot brought his glass into use he had recognized the horsemen as Nez Perces. They were returning from their expedition, and if the statement of the number that had left home was correct, had lost at least three.
The spyglass disclosed the chieftain Amokeat to the Shawanoe, who, with his horse on a walk, was riding at the head of the procession. The instrument revealed another significant fact:
Neither Amokeat nor any of his warriors was mounted on Whirlwind.
Deerfoot had to struggle to restrain his indignation. Had he been within reach of Amokeat at that moment, it is not unlikely he would have dragged him from his horse and given him a lesson he could never forget. The very thing the Shawanoe had feared from the first had occurred: the stallion was either stolen or dead.
But as Deerfoot advanced to meet the party, who soon observed and identified him, he pulled himself together. It would have taken one who knew him intimately, like Simon Kenton, or George or Victor Shelton, to read in the slightly pale face and peculiar gleam of the dark eyes the evidence of the emotion that the Shawanoe held well under control.
It was in the depth of a broad valley, where there was a semblance to a trail which had been made by bison or other animals on their way to water, that Chief Amokeat drew up and awaited the approach of the Shawanoe. The latter, as was his custom, made a half-military salute, and, without any more preliminaries came to the point. He used the Blackfoot tongue, which was familiar to the Nez Perce.
"Deerfoot seeks his horse. Where is he?"
Amokeat must have expected the question, for he shook his head and answered in the language of the Blackfeet:
"Amokeat is grieved to tell Deerfoot he will never see the horse he loves again. It saddens the heart of Amokeat, but he speaks with a single tongue."
"Is my horse dead?"
"That Amokeat does not know. Yesterday the Assiniboines took him from us, and they are now far on their way to their villages."
"Why did Amokeat take my horse from where Deerfoot had left him? Why did he not wait until he could see Deerfoot and ask him. He has stolen my horse."
This was a pointed charge, but Deerfoot could not wholly curb his anger. The chief, however, did not seem to feel the sting of the words, though more than one of his warriors, who had drawn up their horses and were looking on and listening, showed resentment.
Amokeat now proceeded to tell in his own way what had befallen him and his companions. He said they had started out for a hunt, though expecting to have an encounter with some of their enemies before their return. At a point about a hundred miles to the northeast, while riding through a canyon, they were suddenly attacked by fully a hundred red men, whom they recognized as Assiniboines that were a long way from their hunting grounds.
While it is more than likely the Nez Perce leader exaggerated the number of his assailants, no doubt they were superior to the smaller company. The latter put up a brave fight, but before they could extricate themselves from the trap five of their number were shot from their horses. This statement showed that originally the Nez Perces numbered more than a score.
Amokeat was on the back of Whirlwind, who carried him off with such amazing speed that he was soon separated from his warriors. Deerfoot's lips curled when he heard this statement, for to him it was a proof of the cowardice of the chief. The party had no time to recover the bodies of their fallen comrades, who were