Deerfoot on the Prairies

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Meanwhile the Blackfoot and the boys relieved Zigzag of his load, removed the other saddle and bridles, and devoted themselves to gathering wood for the night. With such an abundance on every hand this was a light task. When the leaves were heaped up, with a mass of dry twigs loosely arranged on top and larger sticks above them, George Shelton took out the sun-glass which had been presented to him by one of his neighbors. The sun was still high enough for him to catch a few of the rays and concentrate them upon the leaves, which speedily broke into a smoking flame that soon spread into a roaring fire. The method was not much superior, after all, to the old-fashioned flint and steel, but the instrument was new so far as the present owner was concerned, and he liked to use it.

One of the most treasured presents to Victor was a good spyglass that had been used by one of General Wayne’s officers throughout the Revolutionary War, and afterward in the Indian campaigns in the West. The lad had not found a good chance as yet to employ it, but when its power was explained to Mul-tal-la he was delighted and declared it would prove beyond value to them while crossing the plains, and he spoke the truth.

The fire was no more than fairly going when the report of Deerfoot’s rifle sounded not far off in the woods. No one was surprised, for game was plenty, though it was not the most favorable season, and it was safe to rely upon the dusky youth for an unfailing supply of food whenever it could possibly be secured.

When a few minutes later Deerfoot came in sight he was carrying a big wild turkey, from which he had torn the feathers, plucked the inedible portions, and washed the rest in the clear water of the brook. All that remained to do was to broil the meat over the fire and coals as soon as they were ready.

Aunt Dinah had expressed an ardent wish to stow among the bundles of the packhorse some specimens of her best cookery in the way of bread and cake, but the brothers protested so vigorously that there was neither need nor room for anything of that kind that she refrained. There was, however, considerable salt, pepper and other condiments, though neither tea nor coffee.

Deerfoot broiled the turkey without help from the others. It was cut into pieces which he toasted on green sticks skewered through them, turned over in front of the blaze and laid for a few minutes over the blazing coals. When the first piece was ready he passed it to Victor.

“That’s ’cause he feels remorse for his meanness towards me,” reflected the lad, sprinkling salt on the juicy flesh and then sinking his sharp incisors into it, realizing, as many a youngster has realized before and since, that the best sauce for any sort of food is hunger.

The next portion went to George, the third to Mul-tal-la, and last of all Deerfoot provided for himself. This was his invariable rule, and all his friends knew it so well that they never protested.

Water was brought from the brook in one of the tin cups with which they were furnished, and all made a nourishing and palatable meal.

The last mouthful had been masticated to a pulp and swallowed when Deerfoot, without a word, rose gravely to his feet and walked to where the big pack of Zigzag lay. The corners of the huge parcel had been gathered, and were tied over the middle with big knots. Under these was so large a gap that Deerfoot readily thrust in his hand without undoing the fastening. Fumbling around for several minutes he brought out a goodly sized package wrapped about with coarse brown paper.