The Hunters of the Ozark

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

  CHAPTER XX.

  ANOTHER NIGHT VISITOR.

  Deerfoot the Shawanoe was convinced of one thing--the Wolf would troublehim no further that night. What he might do in the future must be leftfor the future to tell. Whether the few words that he had dropped shouldprove the good seed of which I have spoken, or whether they should bechoked up by thorns, not even the Wolf himself could tell.

  The young warrior showed his convictions by flinging some wood on thefire, so that its blaze filled the cavern, and preparing for sleep. Hefirst sat down and pulled out the knife of the Wolf, whose blade took onan additional gleam from the cleansing it had received in being forcedinto the flinty earth. He examined it with no little curiosity, thoughit was similar to his own.

  A glance, however, showed that it was an inch or two longer. It wasstraight and oval-shaped, the blade not quite two inches wide, with ahandle that had been cut from a deer's horn and fitted with no slightskill. Whether it was the product of aboriginal ingenuity or was thework of some cutler of the Caucasian race could only be guessed, thematter really not being worth the trouble of guessing. Its two edges andthe point were very sharp. Deerfoot having laid aside his gun, graspedthe blade in his left hand and circled it through the air like aswordsman at play. He was so pleased with it that he decided to keep it.He would not throw away the one that had served him so well, but wouldpresent it to Fred Linden, while he retained the one with which he wassure he could do better work.

  It was singular that while the Shawanoe was turning the weapon over inhis hand, and examining it with so much interest, that the occasion forits immediate use should come, but so it was.

  He was on the point of shoving it in behind his belt and lying down tosleep, when a movement of the bushes outside was heard. It was sodistinct indeed that he knew it was not caused by a person.

  The rustling was accompanied by a scratching sound and low growl.Turning his head, he saw an immense wolf standing at the entrance of thecavern, his whole figure revealed in the firelight. With his jaws partedand his form erect, he was a formidable creature, before which almostany one would have recoiled. He would have advanced straight to anattack upon the young warrior but for the fire which partly interposed.Even as it was, he seemed making ready to leap at the throat of theyouth, who was sitting on the blanket, looking coolly at him.

  It would have been the easiest matter in the world for Deerfoot to catchup his gun and shoot him dead, but he chose to do otherwise. Drawing oneof the embers forth by the end that was not burning, he held it beforehim in his right hand, and, grasping the knife in his left, ran lightlytoward him, as though he meant to jam it into his eyes.

  The bravest animal can not stand unmoved before such an attack, and thenamesake of the human enemy whisked about and darted out of the cavernwith the Shawanoe close behind him. The former bounded a half dozensteps, pausing on the very spot where the hostile warrior was firstseen, and facing about, as if to observe whether his foe dare follow himany further. But Deerfoot had him now where he wished, and he flung thetorch aside among the undergrowth, where it lay smoking for a fewminutes before it went out.

  The fierce animal must have been of the opinion that he too had hisantagonist where he wanted him, for, without the least hesitation, heuttered a snarling growl and made two leaps straight at him. The firstcarried him a little more than half the intervening distance, and thesecond was meant to bear Deerfoot to the earth.

  The young warrior, however, stepped lightly to one side, so that thewolf missed him altogether, and would have been forced to wheel aboutand make a second attack had the chance been given him, but at theinstant it landed, the left hand, grasping the long, keen knife, shotforward with great force and lightning-like swiftness, and was buried tothe hilt in the throat of the brute.

  It was a blow as effective as a cannon ball could have been, for theknife clove the seat of life in twain, and the beast rolled over on theearth dead, almost before it could emit a single yelp of agony.

  Deerfoot stood a moment surveying the carcass before him, and then, withno more excitement than he would have shown in speaking to Fred orTerry, he said: "'Tis a good weapon, and will serve Deerfoot well."

  Then he walked to the tiny brook, carefully washed the gleaming blade,shoved it behind his belt, where it was held in place without the sheaththat clasped the other, and walked back to the cavern. The boys had notbeen disturbed by the outcry of the wolf, and Deerfoot, throwing somemore wood on the flames, lay down on the blanket, drew it partly abouthim, and in ten minutes was asleep, not opening his eyes again until thelight of morning streamed into the cavern and only a few smolderingembers were left of the camp-fire.

  He smiled when he looked upon the two youths, who were still soundlysleeping, all unconscious of the stirring events that had taken placeduring the darkness. There was no call for a renewal of the fire, and,after spending a few minutes in communion with the Great Spirit, hepassed outside the cavern, drank from the clear water in the brook, andlaved his face and hands.

  Just as he finished, Fred Linden emerged, rubbing his eyes and yawning,while Terry Clark was close behind him.

  "Good morning, Deerfoot!" called the former; "it was just like you tolet us sleep all night while you kept watch: to-night you must let ustake our turn."

  "Fred has exprissed me own sintimints," added Terry; "we have had somuch slumber that we can kaap awake for a month. Helloa!"

  The gaze of the boys at that moment fell on the body of the wolf,stiffened in death.

  "You have had visitors," said Fred; "my gracious, but he's a big fellow!Killed by a knife thrust too, that looks as if it had gone half waythrough his body; how was it, Deerfoot?"

  The Shawanoe waited until they had finished bathing their hands andfaces, and then he quietly told them the story, including the account ofthe warrior's visit. As you may well suppose, the boys opened theireyes, and Terry, running inside, brought out the blanket, which had beenfolded in such a manner that the knife of the Winnebago passed throughthree thicknesses of the cloth.

  "And to think that we slept through it all!"

  "Begorrah, but wasn't it lucky that we didn't have the blanket wrappedabout us?" gasped Terry, who was in earnest in his momentary belief ofthe narrow escape of himself and companion.

  "It is well that you kept guard last night; neither of us would haveheard the approach of the Winnebago; and wouldn't have known any thingabout the other wolf until he lit on our shoulders."

  "My brother is mistaken," said Deerfoot; "he is like the rattlesnake; hegives warning before he strikes; I heard him growl, and he stopped atthe entrance to the cavern, afraid of the fire."

  "Why didn't you shoot him?"

  "Would he have died more quietly, or with less pain than from the knife?It is the knife that the Winnebago left; Deerfoot wanted to learnwhether it would serve him well."

  "And I should think ye ought to be satisfied, as a cousin of me own onceremarked after working five years for a man without any pay exciptstarvation and kicks."

  "The knife proved itself a good one," said Fred; "but the poorest knifewould be just as effective in your hands."

  Deerfoot withdrew his own weapon from its skin sheath, and handed it toFred.

  "Let my brother carry that, for the hour may come sooner than he thinkswhen it will be of use to him."

  Fred accepted it gratefully, saying, as he managed to find place for itsomewhat after the manner of Deerfoot:

  "If I can handle it with half of your skill, it will serve me wellindeed, but that can never be."

  Deerfoot placed the larger weapon within the sheath from which he hadwithdrawn his own and made no reply to the compliments of his friends.He had heard many such before, but he placed no value upon them. Heregarded himself as simply trying to use in the best way the gifts ofthe Great Spirit. His many escapes from death and injury were due solelyto God's protecting care, and he could never take to himself any creditfor what he did.

  The excitement of the boys having subsid
ed, the three sat down in frontof the cavern to eat their breakfast. Enough of the food brought by Fredwas left to give each and all the meal needed, but when they werethrough, not a particle was left; henceforth they must depend upon whattheir rifles brought them for support while on the way to the camp inthe Ozarks.

  "We have two or three days' travel yet before we can reach camp," saidFred, while they were making ready to resume their journey; "but I don'tthink we shall want for food. What troubles me the most is that scamp ofa Winnebago. You have spared him twice, but I don't believe it willmake a friend of him."

  "He was so boilin' mad," added Terry, "because he lost his gun that nowthat he has also lost his knife he may get so much madder that he'llflop over and become pleased again."

  This, however, was a kind of philosophy to which the others could notagree. Deerfoot owned that he was in doubt; the sentiment of gratitudeis not one of the chief virtues of the American race, though manystory-tellers would have us believe that it is. There have beeninstances known where a red man has shown something of the kind, but asa rule they have no more of it than had the frozen serpent that waswarmed in the bosom of him who proved his foolishness by making theexperiment.