“An elk?” inquired the latter; making a silent affirmative sign, War–Eagle pursued the trail which conducted them to the top of a small rising ground, where it appeared to branch in several directions, and became almost imperceptible from the shortness of the grass and the hardness of the soil. But these seemed to offer no impediment to the Indian’s pursuit of his quarry, for turning short at a right angle to their former course, he descended the hillock in a different direction, walking with a swift noiseless step, as if he saw his game before him.
Reginald’s surprise overcame even his eagerness for the sport, trained as he had been in the woods, and justly held one of the quickest and most skilful hunters in the territory. He had looked in vain on the ground which they were now traversing for the slightest point or footmark: touching, therefore, his friend lightly on his shoulder, he whispered, “Does my brother guess the elk’s path?—or can he smell it, like the Spaniard’s dog?”
A good–humoured smile played on the Delaware’s lip as he replied, “The trail of the elk is broad and easy; War–Eagle could follow it by the moon’s light! My white brother will see: he is an elk–chief; his squaws are with him.”
As he spoke he showed several marks, which Reginald could scarcely distinguish, on the short grass: a few yards further War–Eagle added, pointing to a low bush beside them, “If Netis does not see the elk’s foot, he can see his teeth.”
On examining the bush, Reginald perceived that a small fresh twig from the side of it had been recently cropped, and suppressing his astonishment at his friend’s sagacity, in following with such apparent ease a trail that to him was scarcely discernible, he allowed him to proceed without further interruption, closely watching his every movement, in the hope that he might be able to discover some of the indications by which the Indian was guided. Moving lightly forward, they soon had occasion again to cross the brook before mentioned; and on the soft edge of its banks War–Eagle pointed in silence to the track of the large hoof of the elk, and to the smaller print left by the feet of its female companions. Desiring Reginald to remain still, the Indian now crept stealthily forward to the top of a small hillock covered with brushwood, where he lay for a few seconds with his ear touching the ground. Having once raised his head to look through a low bush in front of him, he sunk again upon the ground, and made a signal for his friend to creep to the spot. Reginald obeyed, and peering cautiously through the leaves of the same bush, he saw the stately elk browsing at a distance of an hundred and fifty yards, the two hinds being beyond him. The intervening ground being barren and almost flat, offering no cover for a nearer approach, his first impulse was to raise his rifle for a distant shot; but War–Eagle, gently pressing down the barrel, motioned him to crouch behind the bush. When they were again concealed, the Delaware whispered to his friend, that he would go round and creep on the elk from the opposite quarter.
Reginald, in reply, pointed to the top branches of a young poplar gently waving in the breeze.
“War–Eagle knows it,” said the Indian, gravely, “the wind is from that quarter; it is not good; but he will try; if elk smell him, he comes this way, and Netis shoot him.” So saying, he crept down the little hillock by the same path which they had followed in the ascent, and then striking off in an oblique direction, was soon lost to view.
Reginald, still concealed behind the bush, silent and motionless, with his hand on the lock of his rifle, watched intently every movement of the antlered monarch of the woods: the latter, unconscious of danger, lazily picked the tenderest shoots from the surrounding bushes, or tossed his lofty head to and fro, as if to display the ease and grace with which it bore those enormous antlers. More than once, as he turned to brush off from his side some troublesome fly, Reginald thought he had become suddenly aware of the Indian’s approach; but it was not so, for in spite of the disadvantage of the wind, the practised Delaware moved towards his unsuspecting prey with the stealthy creep of a panther. Reginald’s impatience was such that minutes seemed to him hours; and his fingers played with the lock of his rifle, as if he could no longer control their movement: at length a sudden snort from one of the hinds announced that she smelt or heard some object of alarm as she came trotting to the side of her lordly protector.
Turning himself to windward, and throwing forward his ears, the elk listened for a moment, while his upturned and wide distended nostril snuffed the breeze, to discover the danger of which he had been warned by his mate. That moment was not lost by the Delaware, and the report of his rifle echoed through the forest. Tossing his head with a sudden start, the elk fled from his now discovered foe, and came bounding over the barren space in front of the bush where Reginald was concealed. With a coolness that did great credit to his nerves as a hunter, the latter remained motionless, with his eye on the game and his finger on the trigger, until the elk passed his station at full speed: then he fired, and with so true an aim, that ere it had gone fifty yards, the noble beast fell to the earth, and immediately Reginald’s hunting–knife put an end to its pain and to its life. The young man looked over the quarry with pride and pleasure, for it was the largest he had ever seen; and the shot (which had pierced the heart) was well calculated to raise War–Eagle’s opinion of his skill in wood–craft. Whilst he was still contemplating the animal’s bulk and fine proportions, the exclamation “good!” uttered in English, gave him the first notice that the Delaware was at his side.