The Hunters of the Ozark

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

In doing so, Black Bear took the lead, and, in accordance with a custom universal among Indians, each warrior carefully stepped into the footprints in front of him. The water was so limpid that the impression made by the chieftain's moccasin was plainly shown, so that there was no difficulty in this respect. Had a person been trailing them, he would have seen before him what seemed to be the footprints of a single man. There was but a slight variation near the further shore, where the moccasin of one of the Winnebagos had slid from a stone on which, like all the others, it was placed. The brown stone was slippery with a faint coating of slime, and the scrape of the deerskin down the side gave it a white gleam like the belly of a fish. It was a "slip" in every sense, and, when the slight splash announced it, Black Bear at the head of the procession turned about with his most impressive scowl.

The party made a halt on the other bank. It was considerably past noon, and, while some busied themselves in starting a fire, and a couple began fishing in the stream, two others going into the woods with their guns, Deerfoot was quite sure that they had decided to spend an hour or so for dinner. He concluded, however, to follow the two who went into the woods, and it was fortunate that he did so.

The first surprise that came to him was when the Winnebagos had gone nearly an eighth of a mile from camp. All this time they were making their way up quite a steep slope, so that they were close to the top of a high, wooded ridge.

The Shawanoe might well wonder why they had taken such a course, but when two frightened deer burst through the undergrowth and dashed by at full speed, within easy gun shot, and the Winnebagos looked at them without raising their guns to fire, then it was that Deerfoot was genuinely astonished.

The conclusion was inevitable that these red men were not looking for game.

With a suspicion of their real errand (and that caused another surprise), Deerfoot stealthily followed the Winnebagos until they paused on the highest part of the ridge. He was not long kept in doubt as to their business.

The top of the ridge was almost bare. There were a few stunted trees, a number of bowlders and rocks, and here and there, patches of scraggly grass. From this elevation, however, a magnificent view opened out on every hand before the spectator. To the north stretched the undulating country covered with prairie, stream, valley and forest, the last brilliant with all the gorgeous hues that come with the frosts of autumn.

These flaming colors were visible in whatever direction the eye turned, and the same varied surface was seen everywhere, but to the southward, the Ozark Mountains had a faint bluish tinge, like a mass of clouds resting in the horizon. It was in that direction that the camp of the hunters lay, and thither the footsteps of pale face and redskin were directed.

The two Winnebagos spent only a minute or so in scanning the surrounding country, when they began gathering wood, until they had quite a pile. A quantity of leaves, some of which were damp, was mixed among the twigs, so that when with a little trouble they were fired by means of the flint and steel in the hands of one of the red men, the fuel did not burn clearly but gave off considerable dark smoke, which was what the Winnebagos wanted.

As soon as the fire was fairly burning, one of the Indians flung his blanket over it, his friend seizing the other part, while both held it thus until it was in danger of taking fire or smothering the flames. Had the coarse cloth been a little more cleanly it is likely that it would have been burned, but as it was it strangled the blaze until it may be said there were several bushels of smoke gathered beneath and the embers were at their last gasp.