The Hunters of the Ozark

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

The fact that Fred Linden and Terry Clark left Greville the next morning after the affair, mixed matters to that extent that, for a time, the Winnebago was at fault. It was his intention to prowl around the settlement, awaiting his chance, for he suspected that Deerfoot had gone thither with the lad who had given the Wolf such a blow in the face; but the discovery of the footprints of the two boys leading to the southward mystified the Indian. He was quite close to the creek, and the sun had crossed the meridian at the time this discovery was made. It was natural that he should look for the trail of the Shawanoe, but he could not find it.

Finally, with a half-suspicion of the truth, the Wolf went into the settlement to make inquiries. He could speak enough broken English to make himself understood, and, as it so happened, it was Mr. MacClaskey himself whom he accosted. He told the inquirer the truth, adding that Terry took with him a gun that was captured from a vagabond Indian. But for that he would not have been allowed to go, for there was but one rifle in the family, which the settler would trust in no hands but his own for any length of time.

The Winnebago was shrewd enough to disarm any doubt that might have been felt about himself. It was the rule in the settlement to show kindness to every wandering Indian that visited them, and no one dreamed that any thing was to be feared from the Wolf. But his heart was full of exulting malignancy. He knew who had the gun, and aware that the two boys had started for the camp of the Ozarks, he understood where to look for it. The fact that the Winnebago had no gun with him would have caused the belief that he was the vagabond Indian, had he not explained that he left it in the woods as a token of comity.

The Wolf sauntered back until he was across the stream and out of sight. Then he sped along the trail, with a long, loping trot, which his race can maintain for hours without fatigue. He had a long distance to travel, but he reached the scene of the encounter with the strange animal, just as it was growing dark.

At this point, he showed admirable woodcraft. The signs on the ground puzzled him for a time, but there was the carcass of the animal, and by and by he found the imprints of the small moccasins, which told him that the young Shawanoe had rejoined the others at this point.

As you can well believe, this was any thing but a pleasant discovery, for, superior as was the strength of the Winnebago, he would have preferred to meet the two boys, even though both were armed, than to find himself face to face again with the remarkable Indian youth.

But there was no help for it, and the dusky Winnebago compressed his coppery lips with the resolve that the gun should be in his hands before the rising of the morrow's sun.

The light was rapidly fading among the trees and he improved what was left of it. Prowling around the spot in a circle, with his nose close to the ground, he discovered that the three youths had started along the bank of the brook toward its head.

Thereupon the Winnebago formed the correct conclusion; they had moved from the main trail (doubtless on the suggestion of the young Shawanoe), in search of some place to encamp where there would be less danger of detection.

By the time the Wolf had satisfied himself on this point, it had become too dark among the trees for his eyes to detect the trail, which at mid-day would have been as distinct as a beaten path. He therefore adopted the plan of which I have made mention elsewhere: he followed a general rule.