He knew that possibly he was mistaken in this respect, but there could be no doubt on another point: he was much quicker of movement than the iron-limbed Taggarak. The open space would give full freedom to both, and this quickness would not be hampered at all during the fight between them. Moreover, Deerfoot was an unerring judge of distance, and knew on the instant when to dodge and when to strike. Therefore he feared not, but with that old Adamic strain in his nature, really yearned for the battle.
It has long been the custom of Indians, when facing each other in mortal strife, to resort to taunts and insults. If a foe can be driven into anger, while his tormentor keeps cool, the latter has the victory half won. Deerfoot could not stifle a feeling of resentment over the contemptuous behavior of Taggarak toward him. Instead of contenting himself with merely challenging the Shawanoe to mortal combat, he sent him word that all that was left for him to do was to choose between two methods of shuffling off the mortal coil. It was to be the Spirit Circle or by the knife of the Blackfoot. This scornful treatment of the youth angered him, and it was one of the reasons why he decided to adopt a policy which in other circumstances he would have considered beneath a true warrior.
CHAPTER XVII.
A MEMORABLE DUEL.
Deerfoot the Shawanoe, before entering the elevated wooded portion to the east of the bleak plain that had been the scene of his triumphs the day before, paused and carefully scrutinized all that lay within his field of vision. He was not altogether free from a shadowy suspicion that Taggarak would resort to treachery, though for reasons named by Mul-tal-la it was improbable. Despite the care the youth had used, he feared that rumors of the coming fight had got abroad, and some of the curious might brave the wrath of their chief for the sake of viewing the combat. That which Deerfoot saw, or rather failed to see, convinced him that both fears were unfounded.
He recalled too clearly the spot named by the Blackfoot to make any mistake, and he went directly to it. A few rods beyond the rocks where Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot had caught sight of each other after their long separation was a comparatively clear and level space that covered a fourth of an acre or less. A glance showed it to be an ideal spot for a meeting such as was at hand.
Deerfoot looked hastily around for Taggarak. He was not in sight. In truth, the Shawanoe was considerably ahead of time, and the chief was not a moment late when, after awhile, he strode into view from the other side of the arena.
This famous chieftain has already been described. No one could look upon him without a certain admiration, and it was easy to believe the many stories of his prowess. He was spare of frame, nearly six feet tall, and his mien and manner showed perfect fearlessness. He wore no head dress, his abundant hair, in which there was not the first streaking of gray, falling loosely over his shoulders, almost to his waist. The upper part of his body was encased in a shirt of deerskin, and the buckskin breeches were fringed down the legs. Deerfoot noticed that he had on a new pair of moccasins, stained several bright colors. He must have thought the occasion warranted something in the nature of display. There was no skirt to the jacket-like garment, the thighs being inclosed with the buckskin which formed the leggings, after the manner of the modern style of trousers. The handle of his knife—the weapon that many a time had done frightful work—could be seen protruding from the girdle that encircled his waist.
With a dignified step the chief strode forward until within a dozen paces of Deerfoot, when he paused and scowled at him.