Camp-fire and Wigwam Part 25

"I've no business here," he exclaimed, coming sharply to the upright position and running his fingers through his hair in a business-like fas.h.i.+on; "every nerve in my body is just yearning for the cool breath of the woods, and I feel as though I could run and tumble over the mountains all day and feel the better for it. But I must keep it up till the way opens."

After thinking over the matter, he decided to venture outside. Rising to his feet, he walked briskly to the door, pulled the skin aside and pa.s.sed out, immediately a.s.suming the manner and style of a boy who was barely able to walk and then only with the greatest pain.

He expected a crowd would instantly gather around him, but he actually limped all the way to the spring without attracting any special attention. It was inevitable that a number should see him, and two youngsters called out something, but he made no response and they forebore to molest him further.

"If I should meet that chap that has found out he can't wrestle as well as he thought he could, he will hardly be able to keep his hands off me.

Maybe he would find he had made another mistake, and maybe it would be I who was off my reckoning. However, I've my knife with me, and I will use that on him if there is any need of it, but I hope there won't be."

The water tasted deliciously cool and pure, and he bathed his hands and face again and again in it. He longed to take a plunge into the river, but that would have been impolitic, and he restrained the yearning until a more convenient season should offer.

Jack finally turned about and began plodding homeward, his eyes and ears open for all that could be seen and heard. It was a clear warm day, and the village was unusually quiet. Some of the squaws were working with their primitive hoes, the children were frolicking along the edge of the wood, where the shade protected them from the sun, and the warriors were lolling within the tepees or among the trees. More than likely the major part of the large boys were hunting or fis.h.i.+ng.

Sure enough, Jack was still beyond the limits of the village, when he saw his old antagonist walking toward him. The Indian lad was alone, but several squaws and warriors were watching his movements, as though he had promised them some lively proceedings. Jack noticed that his nose had a.s.sumed its normal proportions, from which he concluded that more time than was actually the case had elapsed since he himself was prostrated by illness. The pugnacious youth advanced in his wary fas.h.i.+on, gradually slackening his gait until nearly opposite the pale face, who felt that the exigencies of the situation demanded he should brace up so as to impress the youth with the peril of attacking him.

While several paces separated the two, the Indian came to a halt, as if waiting for the other. It would not do to show any timidity, and, without changing in the least his pace, the pale faced youth partly drew his knife from his girdle and muttered with a savage scowl:

"I'm ready for you, young man!"

CHAPTER x.x.x.

OUT IN THE WORLD.

It cannot be doubted that the Indian youth intended to make an a.s.sault on Jack Carleton. He must have known of his prostrating illness and concluded that he was a much less dangerous individual than when they first met; but there was something in the flash of the captive's eye and a meaning in the act of drawing his knife part way from his girdle, which caused the young Sauk to hesitate. Evidently he concluded that much could be said for and against the prudence of opening hostilities.

Jack strode forward, with his shoulders thrown back and a scowl, as though he preferred that the youth should make the attack. He kept his gaze on the savage until some distance beyond him, the latter turning as if on a pivot and narrowly watching him to the very door of the lodge.

Jack then withdrew his attention and took a survey of matters in front.

The same quiet which he had noticed a short time before held reign. The few Indians moving about paid no attention to the lad, with the exception, perhaps, of one: that was Ogallah, the chieftain who had just noticed him on his return from the spring. The n.o.ble head of the band was lolling in the shade of one of the wigwams, discussing affairs of state with one of his cabinet, when he observed the youth. Summoning all his latent energy, he rose to his feet and strolled in the direction of his own home. The moment Jack saw him, he a.s.sumed the most woe-begone appearance it was possible to wear. The defiant att.i.tude and manner, which were a challenge of themselves, vanished: the shoulders drooped forward: the step became slouchy and uncertain, and the poor fellow looked as if about to sink to the ground in a final collapse.

Pretending not to see the sachem, Jack feebly drew the bison skin aside and pitched into the lodge. Glancing around, he found he was alone, whereupon he strode straight across the s.p.a.ce, lay back on his couch, and kicked up his heels like a crowing infant.

"I must work off some of this steam or I shall burst," he said to himself, rolling and tumbling about in the very abandon of rapid convalescence: "It's hard work for me to play sick, but it must be done for the big prize that is at stake."

He kept close watch on the entrance, and, when a hand suddenly drew the skin aside and the bent figure of the chieftain came through and straightened up within the lodge, young Carleton had the appearance of a person whose sands of life were nearly run out.

Ogallah walked forward and examined him closely. He saw a youth who was unquestionably a "pale face," staring vacantly at him for a few seconds, and who then rolled on his face with a groan that must have been heard some distance beyond the lodge. Restless flingings of the limbs followed, and, when the sachem turned away, he must have concluded that it would never be his privilege to adopt the young gentleman into his family.

Toward night the squaw and dog appeared and the domestic economy of the aboriginal residence went on as before. When a piece of cooked meat was brought to Jack, he devoured it with a ferocity which threatened incurable dyspepsia, and he swallowed a goodly draught of water freshly brought from the spring.

Recalling the mistake he made while on the journey through the woods to the village, Jack Carleton resolved he would not fail through any similar forgetfulness. He fell asleep at that time on account of his exhaustion, but now the case was different: he had had enough slumber to last two days, while his brain was so clear and full of the scheme that it was impossible for him to rest until after it had been tested.

Nothing is more weary than the waiting which one has to undergo when placed in his position. The hours drag by with scarcely moving footsteps, and before the turn of night comes, one is apt to believe the break of day is at hand. From his couch, Jack furtively watched how things went, which was much the same as he had seen before.

The pup ate until they would give him no more and then stretched out at the feet of the squaw, who, having finished her meal, lit her pipe and puffed away with the dull animal enjoyment natural to her race. The chief himself led in that respect, and the two kept it up, as it seemed to Jack, doubly as long as ever before. At last they lay down and slept.

The captive had noted where his rifle was placed. It leaned against the side of the lodge where it had stood every time he saw it, so that, if he could steal out of the place in the night without arousing the inmates, it would be easy for him to take the gun with him.

The fire flickered and burned up, then sank, flared up again, and at last went into a steady decline, which left the room filled with a dull glow that would have failed to identify the objects in sight had not the boy been familiar with their appearance.

When convinced that the two were sound asleep, Jack repeated the prayer that had trembled so many times on his lips, rose as silently as a shadow, and began moving across the lodge on tip-toes to where his invaluable rifle leaned. Lightly would that warrior have need to sleep to be aroused by such faint footfalls.

The boy had not yet reached his weapon, when he was almost transfixed by the vivid recollection of the attempt he made to get away when on the journey to the village. He believed his liberty was secured, when he suddenly awoke to the fact that Ogallah and his warriors were trifling with him.

Could it be the chief had read in the captive's face the evidence of his intention?

This was the question which for the moment held life in suspense, while Jack Carleton stood in the middle of the dimly lit wigwam and gazed doubtingly toward the figures near the smoldering fire.

"Likely enough he is only pretending he's asleep, and, just as I am sure the way is clear, he will spring to his feet and grab me."

It was a startling thought indeed, and there were a few moments when the lad was actually unable to stir; but he quickly rallied and smiled at his own fears.

"If I once get my gun in hand, he won't be able to stop me----"

He was reaching forward to grasp it, when one of the embers fell apart, and a yellow twist of flame filled the apartment with a glow which revealed everything. Jack stopped with a faint gasp and turned his head, sure that the chief was on the point of leaping upon him; but he was as motionless as a log, and the hand of the boy was upraised again as he took another stealthy step forward. A half step more, and his fingers closed around the barrel. The touch of the cold iron sent a thrill through him, for it was like the palpable hand of Hope itself.

The powder horn lay on the ground beside the weapon, the Indian having made no use of either since they came into his possession. The string was quickly flung over the shoulder of the boy, who then began moving in the same guarded fas.h.i.+on toward the door, throwing furtive glances over his shoulder at the king and queen, who did not dream of what was going on in their palace.

Jack Carleton "crossed the Rubicon" when he lifted the rifle and powder horn from the ground. Had he been checked previous to that he would have turned back to his couch, and made the pretense that what he did was the result of a delirium. But with the possession of his weapon came a self-confidence that would permit no obstruction to divert him from his purpose. He would not have fired on the chief or his squaw (except to save his own life), for that would have been unpardonable cruelty, but he would have made a dash into the outer air, where he was sure of eluding his pursuers, so long as the night lasted.

But the slumber of the couple was genuine. They did not stir or do anything except to breathe in their sonorous fas.h.i.+on. Jack took hold of the bison skin to draw it aside, when he found the door was locked. It was an easy matter, however, to unfasten it, and a single step placed him outside the wigwam.

Instead of hurrying away, as his impatience prompted him to do, the youth stood several minutes surveying the scene around him. The Sauk village was asleep, and the scrutiny which he made of the collection of wigwams failed to show a single star-like twinkle of light. The night was clear, and a gibbous moon was high in the sky. Patches of clouds drifted in front of the orb, and fantastic shadows whisked across the clearing and over the wigwams and trees. The dwellings of the Indians looked unsightly and misshapen in the s.h.i.+fting light, and Jack felt as though he were gazing upon a village of the dead.

Turning to the southward, he faced the narrow, winding river. From the front of the chieftain's lodge, he caught the glimmer of its surface and the murmur of its flow, as it swept by in the gloom on its way to the distant Gulf. A soft roaring sound, such as we notice when a sea-sh.e.l.l is held to the ear crept through the solitude like the voice of silence itself.

Jack was impressed by the scene, but when he saw a shadowy figure flit between two of the wigwams, and was certain he heard a movement in the lodge behind him, he hastily concluded it was the time for action and not meditation. With a start that might have betrayed him, he quickly left his position and hastened away.

It was natural that the many hours devoted by Jack during his convalescence, to forming his plan of procedure, should have fixed the plan he meant to follow. Thus it was that the few minutes spent in front of the chieftain's lodge were not occupied in debating the proper course to take, and, when he once made a start, he went straight ahead without turning to the right or left.

The reader will readily see how great were the advantages on the side of the fugitive. He was certain of a fair start, which ought to have made his position absolutely safe, for if the American Indian is phenomenally skillful in following the trail of an enemy through the wilderness, that enemy, if he suspects such pursuit, ought to be able to throw him irrecoverably from the scent.

Furthermore, it is scarcely conceivable that the trail of Jack Carleton could be taken at the door of Ogallah's wigwam and followed as the warriors trailed a fugitive through the woods; for the ground whereon he walked had been tramped hard by mult.i.tudinous feet, and the faint impressions of the boy's shoes could not be individualized among the thousand footprints. It was far different from fleeing from a camp in the woods, where his trail crossed and was interfered with by no other, and where the slightest depression or overturning of the leaves was like the impression on the dusty highway.

The fugitive's first intention was to take to the woods, and guiding his course by the moon and sun, travel with all the speed and push at his command. Fortunately he was enabled to see that such a course was almost certain to bring disaster. Instead of doing that, he went directly to the river side, where he had seen the Indians frolicking in the water, and he himself had so often sighed for the same delicious privilege.

There were five canoes partly drawn up the bank and waiting the will of their owner. They were made of bark with curved ends, fantastically painted, and each was capable of carrying, at least, six or eight able-bodied warriors. They were so light that the lad found no trouble in shoving the first clear of the sh.o.r.e, and sending it skimming out into the stream. As it slackened its pace, it turned part way round, like a bewildered swan, as if uncertain which way to go. Then it sailed triangularly down current, much after the manner of Ogallah's dog when on a trot.

It was not more than fairly under way, when the second glided out after it, then the third, the fourth and finally the fifth and last. This contained Jack Carleton who took the long ashen paddle in hand and began plying it with considerable skill. He was paying less attention to his own progress than to the manipulation of the other canoes, which he had set free for a special purpose.

He kept the five in the middle of the current until a fourth of a mile was pa.s.sed. Then he gave one such a violent push that it ran its snout against the bank and stuck fast. Some distance down stream he repeated the man[oe]uvre with the second boat against the opposite sh.o.r.e, continuing the curious proceeding until he was alone in the single canoe, floating down stream.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.