Footprints in the Forest

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Hay-uta stood watching the river with such quietness that Jack, who was still sitting on the prostrate tree, never suspected he had discovered any thing, until he turned about and signified by signs that the craft and its occupants had landed some distance above.

I need not say that all this time the lad was longing for the return of Deerfoot, the Shawanoe. If any one could penetrate the mystery which shut them in at every step, he was the one to do it. None could have attained a point nearer perfection than he, so far as woodcraft was concerned.

"But what can we do?" was the question which presented itself to the youth; "if the faintest footprints showed on the ground, the Sauk would have discovered them, and if they ain't there, Deerfoot can tell no more than we know."

"I wonder what in the name of all that's sensible he meant by crossing the river, and leaving his bow and arrows in my charge. If I owned such an arrangement the first thing I would do would be to fling it into the river. Whatever plan he had in mind when he swam over, must have been a blunder which is likely to upset every thing."

The knowledge that the Pawnees had landed on the same shore where were the Sauk and Jack Carleton required attention on their part, for if their enemies decided to search for the marauders who, after slaying Red Wolf, had run off with their canoe, it would not do for the parties to remain idle.

In making their way to the spot where they were now resting, our friends had taken much pains to hide their footprints, and it would be a hard matter for the Pawnees to trace them. In fact, Hay-uta felt little fear of it.

While he and Jack busied themselves in the manner described, Deerfoot had not been idle. He swam the river, as you have been told, and reached the other shore, without awakening suspicion on the part of the Pawnees. After emerging from the water, he set about locating the war party, for the first step in his scheme required that to be done. His expectation was that the company were gathered near some point not far removed from the camp-fire of the night before.

A scout through the woods, however, showed he was mistaken. He found what seemed to be half the party grouped around a new fire, where there was evidence that most of the previous night had been spent. Breakfast was over, and a number were smoking pipes. The experienced eye of the Shawanoe told him there was no purpose just then of moving away. The Pawnee villages were still far to the north-west, but the warriors were in the comfortable condition of those travelers who are at liberty to spend as much time as they choose on the road. It mattered little to them whether they were a week early or a month late.

Had any one observed the countenance of the young Shawanoe while he was studying the group around the camp-fire, he would have seen that he was deeply interested in one warrior, who was standing with arms folded, and leaning lazily against a tree, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. It was his old acquaintance Lone Bear, and it was clear that, whatever the plan of the Shawanoe, it assigned a prominent place in it to that individual.

Without affecting any secrecy in the matter, I may as well say that the scheme of Deerfoot was as simple as difficult. He could converse readily with the Pawnee, Lone Bear; the latter knew the fate of Otto Relstaub; he had lied when asked for information; Deerfoot resolved to compel him, if possible, to tell the truth.