Camp-fire and Wigwam

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

But he noticed that for several minutes Burt Hawkins took no part in the conversation. He had sat down again on the log, thrown one leg over another, and was slowly stroking his handsome beard, while his gaze was fixed on the ground in front. He was evidently in deep thought.

Such was the fact, and just as the lull came, he reached his conclusion. Deliberately rising to his full height, he walked over to where Deerfoot stood, and with another slap on his shoulder, said:

"See here, young man!"

The warrior faced him, earnest, attentive, and interested. Burt shifted the weight of his body, so that it rested on his right leg; he looked down in the eyes of Deerfoot, his brow wrinkled as in the case when a man is about to deliver himself of the most important and original thoughts of his life. Then he began wabbling the index finger of his right hand in the face of the warrior, as a man with the important and original thought is inclined to do. He commenced to wabble quite slowly, gradually increasing the amplitude of the vibrations, and passing his finger so close to the countenance of the Shawanoe that it seemed almost to graze the end of his nose. He spoke slowly, pointing his words with his swaying finger:

"Deerfoot, I've got the question answered; listen to me: them boys have been tooken away by Injins; I know it; now where have the Injins gone? You ought to know as much about your race as me, but you don't; do what I tell you; go to the south till you come to some Injin village; make your inquiries there; if they haven't got the boys, they'll know whether the tribe that took 'em passed through their country, 'cause they couldn't very well do so without some of their warriors finding it out. If none of them don't know nothing about no such party, you can make up your mind you're barking up the wrong tree; then take an excursion west and do the same thing; then, if you don't learn anything, try toward the north; there ain't any use in going eastward, for common sense will teach you they haint been tooken that way; a chap with your good sense will pick up some clue that'll show you the way through."

"My brother speaks the words of wisdom," said Deerfoot, who was much impressed by the utterances of the trapper: "Deerfoot will not forget what he has said; he will carry his words with him and they shall be his guide; Deerfoot says good-bye."

And with a courteous salute to the three, the young warrior walked a few steps, broke into a light run, and was out of sight before his intention was fairly understood. The trappers looked in each others' faces, laughed, made some characteristic remarks, and then turned to their own business.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe had determined to follow the advice given by Burt Hawkins the trapper. It certainly was singular that such an extraordinary woodman as the Indian should profit by the counsel of a white man, even though he was a veteran; but Deerfoot had studied the problem so long that his brain was confused, and, having fixed his own line of conduct, he only needed the endorsement of some sturdy character like the hunter. He had received that endorsement, and now he could not use too much haste.

His intention was to journey rapidly southward, in the direction of the present State of Arkansas, until he should reach some of the Indian villages that were there a hundred years ago. He would push his inquiries among them, just as Burt Hawkins had suggested, pressing the search in other directions, until able to pick up some clue. After that, it would be an easy matter to determine the line of policy that would lead to success.

Any one engaged in such a task as that on which the young Shawanoe had entered, needs to take all the observations he can, for the knowledge thus gained is sure to be of great help. The Indian scanned the country opening to the southward, and, as was his custom, turned his face toward the first elevation which would give him the view he was so desirous of obtaining.