Footprints in the Forest

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

The sound of the gun was from a point due south. Deerfoot having fixed it clearly in his mind, said something in a low voice to the Sauk, who had turned his head and was looking as if he expected some summons. Then, rising to his feet, he addressed Jack:

"The night will soon come; we must make haste."

"Ain't you going to search the ground for Otto's trail?" asked Jack, who had hoped that the powerful eyes of Deerfoot would reveal to him that which was hidden from the Sauk.

"There is no trail here," replied the Shawanoe, glancing at the ground, and walking away with a stride which seemed reckless, when it is remembered that the Pawnees were not far off. In fact, the course of the three took them close to the war party who were so clamorous for their scalps; but the task of flanking a company of hostiles was not difficult to Deerfoot. He let his friends know when the situation was delicate, and each used the utmost circumspection; but the young leader deviated so far to one side that he soon placed them in the rear.

Nearly half the day remained, and there was time to cover a great deal of ground. Deerfoot did not break into that loping trot which he could maintain from sunrise to sunset, but his strides were so long and rapid that Jack was on the point more than once of being forced into a run.

The Shawanoe so shaped his course that he passed the tree near which he had placed the rifle, tomahawk, and knife of Lone Bear. A glance showed him they were still there, and he smiled in his shadowy way, but held his peace. He did not tell his friends the story, knowing the panic-stricken Pawnee would not reclaim his weapons until the hour fixed—sunset.

Jack Carleton was well aware, from the manner of Deerfoot, that he was carrying out some theory of his own, though the boy failed to connect it with that far-away report of a rifle. He was far from suspecting the surprising truth. Nothing would have pleased him more than to have had the Shawanoe explain what line of policy he had adopted, but I have shown long ago that Deerfoot was inclined to keep such matters to himself until their truth or falsity was established. Jack knew better than to seek to draw any thing from him, and, since he was equally reserved toward Hay-uta, the young Kentuckian could not feel that he had any ground for impatience.

As they advanced, the ground became broken and rocky. Traveling was difficult—that is, to Jack Carleton—who bruised himself several times in his efforts to hold his own. He was on the point of protesting, when Deerfoot halted.

Hay-uta showed some signs of the severe strain to which he had been subjected. His chest rose and sank faster than usual, and his dusky countenance was slightly flushed. Jack's face was aglow; he breathed hard and fast, and felt as though he would like to sit down and rest a few hours. But Deerfoot was as unruffled as if he had walked only a mile or two at a leisurely pace.

And yet a crisis was at hand. There was something in the eyes and face of the Shawanoe which showed a consciousness that they were near the end: within the following few hours it would come.