CHAPTER VI.
FRED LINDEN RECEIVES A MESSAGE FROM THE OZARK CAMP.
As soon as Fred Linden discovered the deception respecting the cow-bell,he made all haste toward the point whence came the sound, in the hope ofwarning Terry in time to save him from treachery. You will understandhow quickly events passed when told that, although he came almostdirectly to the spot, he did not reach it until Deerfoot the Shawanoeasked for him. This wonderful Indian, of whom I shall have considerablymore to tell, heard the coming of the lad whom he had never seen, beforeeither the eye or ear of Terry Clark could detect his approach.
As may well be supposed, Fred Linden was amazed at what met his eyes.The sight of Terry in friendly converse with a strange Indian was theopposite of what he expected to see. He slackened his hurried walk andlooked inquiringly at Terry. The latter could talk fast when he chose,and the few sentences he rattled off as his companion came up made thematter tolerably clear.
While the questioning and talk were going on, Deerfoot stood leaning onhis long gun and gazing with a certain natural dignity at the twofriends. He said nothing nor did he appear to show any specialcuriosity, though had any one studied his countenance, he would haveseen that he was watching Fred Linden. He had said that he carried amessage to him, and it was no more than natural that he should wish toknow something about him.
As for Fred himself he did not try to hide his profound interest in theremarkable warrior who had appeared at such an opportune time, but ofwhom he had never before heard a word. He knew that the settlers alongthe frontier often found valuable allies in the friendly Indians, and heconcluded that this red man was one of those who, having been maltreatedby his own people or kindly used by the whites, had given his loyalty tothe latter; for in the brief narrative of Terry Clark, he had time onlyto tell the leading facts about the rescue of himself. Just then,therefore, the Irish lad knew more about Deerfoot than did the American.
But it takes only a little time for such a group to become acquaintedwith each other. A general handshaking followed, and it happened morethan once that all three were talking at the same moment. Had any onebeen able to translate the expression of Deerfoot's countenance, hewould have seen that he was pleased with both the lads whom he now metfor the first time. There was a rollicking good nature, a cheery courageand ever bubbling hopefulness about Terry that were contagious, and likeso much sunshine that went with him wherever he went.
Fred Linden was of that manly mold and rugged appearance that he wouldhave drawn favorable attention wherever he might be.
Such a lad in these days would have been picked out as a born athlete,one who was capable, with proper training, to become a first-class ballplayer, oarsman or boxer. He was a swift runner, a strong leaper, anexpert rifle shot, and his rugged frame and rough, outdoor life gavehim an endurance that few men could surpass. He was as tall as Deerfoot,with broad shoulders, muscular arms and legs, clear, keen eyes, a finechest and a symmetrical frame.
The clothes of the two boys, it is hardly necessary to say, were ofhomespun, for a hundred years ago it would have been hard for them toprocure any other kind of goods. The short coat was somewhat like thoseused to-day by bicyclists, reaching only a short distance below thewaist, where the girdle was fastened in front. The trowsers, of the samematerial, reached to the knees, below which were the hunting leggins,common along the border. Then came the warm, woolen stockings and thick,heavy shoes, while the head was surmounted by a woolen cap, made by thedeft fingers at home, and without any pattern. It was soft, and havingno forepiece, sat on the head in whichever position it happened to befirst placed. In this respect it resembled the valuable sealskins of thepresent day. The coats of the lads were open in front, and within werethe pockets, which they used as required, the trowsers also beingprovided with a couple of these prime necessities.
When the rattling conversation had gone on for several minutes, Terryran a few steps and picked up the bell that the Indian had placed on theground. The string which had held it about the neck of the animal wasmissing, having probably been cut by the knife of the impatient Wolf.
"I'll take the same back home wid me and put it on Brindle if I ivermaat her; I shouldn't be so 'stonished that I couldn't spake if I shouldfind that the spalpeen had killed her."
"No," said Fred, "she isn't harmed; I found her off yonder, cropping thebuds and leaves, as innocently as though she hadn't done any thing wrongin leading us on this long chase. I started her toward home, and if shekeeps up the gait she must be pretty near there by this time."
This was good news to Terry, for the loss of the animal would have beenserious to the family of Mr. MacClaskey, her owner. The Irish lad hadhardly picked up the bell when Deerfoot pointed to the gun lying on theground, where it had been left by the Wolf.
"That belongs to my brother."
The delighted Terry could hardly believe what was told him, and he stoodlooking doubtfully at Deerfoot, as if suspecting he had heard him amiss.
"It was you who captured the gun, Deerfoot, and so, if it belongs to anyone, ye are the spalpeen."
The Shawanoe looked down at his own handsome weapon and shook his head.He had no need of any other weapon. Besides, this singular youth couldnot have conscientiously taken it. He did not feel justified in keepingit for his own use, no matter if in sore need of such a weapon; but,since the Winnebago had made his demonstration against Terry Clark, andwas compelled to leave the gun behind, when he was permitted to go, itseemed proper that the prize should fall into the hands of the Irishlad.
What gave special propriety to the act was the fact that, although FredLinden was the owner of a fine gun, Terry had none. When his fatherlost his life, his rifle was never recovered, and though there was onein the family of MacClaskey, the youth had no claim upon it. He longedfor such a weapon, with a longing that it would be hard to understand.The prize, therefore, was appreciated to its full value. He picked it upwith an embarrassed grin, which quickly became natural when he turned itover in his hands and saw what an excellent piece it was.
"More than likely it belonged to a white man in the first place," saidFred; "so it is right enough that it should come back to one of his ownrace."
"It's loaded," said Terry, slightly raising the hammer and noticing thepowder in the pan. Then he brought the gun to his shoulder and pointingit at the white trunk of the beech, which partly showed through theintervening branches and undergrowth, he said:
"If the spalpeen should peep out from behind that tree, I'm thinkin' Icould hit him a harder blow than when I landed me two fists on hismug."
"The Winnebago is a long ways off," said Deerfoot, with a shake of hishead; "he may meet my brother some day, but it will not be in thisplace."
The young Shawanoe having learned all that was to be learned about hisyoung friends, now reached his hand in the breast of his hunting shirtand drew out a small, closely-printed Bible, from between the leaves ofwhich he took a piece of paper that had been folded several times. Heglanced at the superscription, as if to make sure it was right, and thenhanded it to Fred, who, as may be supposed, took it with astonishment.He recognized the penciled writing as that of his father.
Parting the folds, he read the following:
MY DEAR FRED:
You know that when we left home there were three of us, Hardin, Bowlby and myself. There are three of us still, but Bowlby considers himself of no account for some weeks to come, because of a hurt to his foot which will prevent his getting around for a long time. Such being the case, I have concluded, now that I have the chance, to send for you to join us. You are old enough and strong enough to make a full hand, and you can give us good help. Since we have all the animals, you will come afoot, but you will find no trouble in keeping to the trail, which has been traveled often enough to make it plain. It is no more than a hundred miles from Greville to our camp at the foot of the Ozark Mountains, so you ought to have no difficulty in reaching here in the cours
e of three or four days. Love to your mother and Edith.
I send this by a young Shawanoe warrior, called Deerfoot. He is the most remarkable Indian I ever knew. I shall have a good deal to tell you about him when you reach here.
YOUR FATHER.
"Deerfoot bids his brothers good-by," said the young Indian, offeringhis hand, when he saw Fred had finished reading his letter; "he hopesthat he shall see them again."
"It won't be our fault if he doesn't," was the cordial response of FredLinden, in which Terry heartily joined him. After a few more pleasantwords they parted, Deerfoot following in the footsteps of the fleeingWinnebago, while the others moved to the northward in the direction ofthe creek. They turned aside a little from the direct course so as tohunt for Brindle, that Fred had seen, but she was not found. To theirdelight, however, they saw her footprints on the edge of the creek,proving that she had gone home with the directness of one who feltremorse for wandering from the straight path. She had swum the stream,and was doubtless before the MacClaskey cabin at that moment.
But standing close to the edge of the creek, the boys became aware of ahard fact: it had not only risen with great rapidity during the lasthalf hour, so as to become a rushing torrent, but it was still rising sofast that it was extremely dangerous for the boys to try to cross it inthe canoe. Indeed, they hesitated to make the attempt, but finallyconcluded to do so.
The Hunters of the Ozark Page 6