Footprints in the Forest

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Before he could do so the Pawnee was within ten yards—close enough for him to discover some movement in his field of vision even though his gaze still rested on the ground. He stopped as if on the edge of a precipice, and looking up, saw a pale-face holding a formidable bow, with the arrow pointing at his breast.

This particular Pawnee was Red Wolf, who had been driven almost out of his senses when Deerfoot launched the shafts at him and Lone Bear, as they sat by the deserted fire. The figure on which he gazed was not the terrible Shawanoe, but the bow and the arm which slowly drew back the string and arrow were more than enough. He whirled like a flash and was off, bounding from right to left, as do the Digger Indians of the west when seeking to disconcert the aim of an enemy.

"Confound you!" muttered, the archer, "since you are so afraid, I'll give you cause to be; I'll bury this arrow in your back, so that you may take it home in place of the scalp."

Whiz! went the shaft, with all the power he could throw into his arm, and with the best possible aim. It is enough to say that it did not come within ten feet of hitting the fugitive.

The incident showed that it would not be safe for the lad to stay where he was for another minute. Without stopping to consider the consequences, he shoved off the canoe, stepped into it, and, seizing the paddle, began guiding it down the stream. As he did so, he kept it as close as he could to the shore, where the likelihood of discovery was much less than further out in the stream.

Meanwhile, Red Wolf awoke to the fact that he owned a good voice, and that one of the enemies for whom he and the rest of the Pawnees were hunting, was much nearer than was supposed. He emitted a screeching yell, enough to startle all who heard it, and, looking around and seeing nothing of the white archer, he stopped and again signaled for the rest to hasten while it was yet time.

The echoes were heard lingering among the arches of the woods, when a footfall fell on his ear. Turning his head, he observed another warrior, but the first glimpse revealed the startling fact that he belonged to a tribe not only different from that of the Shawanoe, but from the Pawnees. There could be no mistake as to his sentiments, for the moment he discerned Red Wolf, he brought his gun to his shoulder The Pawnee made an attempt to leap behind the nearest tree, but before he could do so, Hay-uta, the Sauk, pulled the trigger. There was no miss that time: the career of Red Wolf ended then and there.

"There's been too much mercy shown the Pawnees," probably thought Hay-uta, as he ran forward to tear the scalp from the head of his vanquished foe. Reaching the inanimate body, he caught the long hair, whipped out his knife, and was pressing the crown with the point, when he uttered an exclamation, dropped the horsehair-like locks, shoved his knife back in place, and ran from the spot.

That which upset Hay-uta's balance for the moment, was the sudden recollection that he was a Christian Indian instead of a heathen. One of the cardinal truths which Deerfoot had impressed on him, was that he should use no unnecessary cruelty toward his enemies; that he should refrain from the barbarous practice of taking the scalp of a fallen foe.

The Sauk halted a few minutes until he could reload his gun, for, like all frontiersmen, he appreciated the need of having a loaded weapon always at command. Then he resumed his flight toward the point where he had left his young pale-face friend. This carried him so close to the canoe that he saw it in the act of moving from the shore, and recognized the figure of Jack within it. Suspecting what it meant, he hurried thither, and was observed by the lad at the moment he dipped the paddle in the current. He reversed the movement, and immediately after, the Sauk stepped within and took the second paddle.