Footprints in the Forest

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

He became interested in his companions, however, and, as is the rule, when the usual hour for eating passed his hunger grew less.

Deerfoot leaned his long bow against the trunk of the nearest tree, his quiver lying at the base, and assumed an indolent attitude, his face toward the fire. The upper part of his body was supported on his left elbow, which held his Bible so that the firelight fell upon the printed page. The print was small, the light bad, and it came from the wrong direction, but the strong vision of the young Shawanoe read it as easily as if under the glare of the noonday sun.

Half way to the opposite side of the fire was stretched the Sauk, his posture precisely the same as that of Deerfoot, except that he rested on his right elbow. Their feet, therefore, were turned toward each other. His eyes were fixed on the face of the Shawanoe, who was reading the marvelous volume, and shaping its words into the tongue which Hay-uta could understand. Eliot, the Indian apostle, translated the whole Bible, and his work was one of the most striking ever done by man, but he put into the American tongue those truths into which he had been trained and with which he had been familiar for years—the character of the labor was immeasurably changed when the interpretation was made by an Indian to one of his own race.

Deerfoot, as he had done before, would read a verse or two in a low tone to himself, and then, looking across to his companion, explain as best he could their meaning. Now and then Hay-uta asked something, and occasionally Deerfoot faintly smiled as he answered.

The Kentuckian watched the Shawanoe with as much interest as did the Sauk, and, though his emotions were different, his wonder and admiration were fully as great.

"He is the most remarkable Indian that ever lived," was the thought which stirred the heart of Jack Carleton, as it had done many a time before; "Hay-uta is in the prime of life, larger, stronger, and he has always been a fighter; he did his best to kill Deerfoot, but he was vanquished as though he was only a child. A short time ago they were striking at each other like a couple of wild cats, and now they are talking about the One who taught men to forgive their enemies; they would die for each other. It's no use," added Jack, shutting his lips tight and shaking his head, as was his habit, when doubt was removed, "there is something in that religion which can tame a little fury like Deerfoot was, and make savages as gentle as lambs."

By and by the senses of the youth began to dull, and drowsiness crept over him. The last recollection was the figures of the two Indians stretched out in front of the camp-fire, one reading and the other listening with rapt attention. The hum and murmur of voices was in his ears when slumber gently closed his eyelids.

His awaking was pleasant. The sun was above the horizon, the sky was clear and the air was balmy. The warm season was at hand, but it had not fully set in, and, under the shade of the towering trees, the coolness was delightful. Birds were singing and the brightness and cheerfulness which pervaded nature every where was like that which makes us fling our hats in air and shout for joy.

Jack appreciated all this, but there was something else which filled his being with more eager delight. The air was laden with the odor of broiling fish, and if there is any thing more fragrant to the senses of a hungry person, I have never been able to learn what it is.

Leaving the sleeper where he lay on his blanket by the fire, Hay-uta and Deerfoot had stolen out to the river, from which it required but a few minutes to coax a number of toothsome fish. These were cleaned, spitted, and broiled over the coals raked from the camp-fire.