Camp-fire and Wigwam

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

The singular race was kept up for slightly more than a mile, during every fraction of which the fugitive put forth his highest possible effort. Such a terrific strain cannot fail to tell upon the most highly trained animal, and so, despite all he could do, the buck found himself unable to keep up his prodigious tension. He was losing ground, and he could not fail to know that escape was out of the question: he was as much doomed as if surrounded and driven at bay by a dozen hunters and their hounds. He was still running at his highest bent, when he suddenly deviated to the right, and, with shocking violence, plunged squarely against the trunk of a beech, and, falling over on his side, gave a few convulsive struggles and died. Beyond question, the buck, when awake to the fact that there was no hope for him, deliberately committed suicide by breaking his neck.

The young Shawanoe paused, and looked down upon the quivering form with feelings of pity.

"Why did he do that? Deerfoot felt too much sorrow to harm him; he only sought to show him he could run the faster; but he will run no more, and Deerfoot will eat."

The spot was suitable, and, within less time than would be supposed, the warrior was seated on the ground, deliberately masticating a liberal slice of broiled venison. Doubtless it would have been improved could he have hung it in a cellar or tree for several days, but it wasn't convenient to do so, and Deerfoot therefore ate it as he could obtain it, and was satisfied therewith.

No water was within reach, the Indian following the healthful practice of the wild animals themselves, of not partaking of drink while eating food.

The meal finished, Deerfoot did not conduct himself like one who was still in doubt as to the course he ought to follow. He had solved the question earlier in the day, and, though the conclusion he reached was not fully satisfactory, he resolutely forced aside all further thought respecting it, and gave his attention simply to that which was before him. His dinner required only a short time, when he resumed his journey, if such it may be termed. He walked with his usual noiseless gait, in which could be detected not the slightest weakness or exhaustion resulting from his terrific run.

The young Shawanoe was advancing toward the mountainous portion of the present State of Missouri. The Ozark range, or its spurs, cover one-half of that large State, and their recesses afford hunting grounds and retreats such as are surpassed by no other portion of the continent.

Deerfoot turned his footsteps toward a high promontory some miles distant. It was the most elevated among many others, and formed a landmark visible over a very extensive area. The youthful warrior did not hasten his footsteps, for there was no call to do so, but he steadily approached the mountain, up which he tramped in his leisurely fashion, until he paused on the very highest point.

The journey was long, and when he came to a halt the sun was far down the western horizon. The summit of the mountain was covered with rocks and boulders, with here and there a few scrubby pines. Nothing could be more unattractive than the broken, stony soil, but the view which was spread out before him who climbed to the top was enough to kindle the eye of a stoic, and make the heart overflow with love and awe toward the great Being who made it all.

But the eye can become accustomed to the grandest scenes, and, although Deerfoot leaned on the rock beside him, and allowed his keen vision to wander over the magnificent panorama, it did not cause an additional pulse-beat. When he had glanced at the mountains, the valleys between, the broken country, the forests, the diversified scenery in every direction, his gaze rested on another promontory similar to the one he had climbed.