Having thus far succeeded in his plan, Mahéga dressed himself from head to foot in the clothes of his victim, taking possession at the same time of his knife and pistols, having first deliberately scalped him,—and placed the scalp in his own belt, below the ill–fated hunter’s shirt. When thus accoutred and attired, the Osage grinned with satisfaction, and proceeded to the next and more dangerous portion of his enterprise.
His first step was to select and secure the best horse from those pasturing in the valley, which he bridled with the laryette already mentioned; and having slung the hunter’s rifle over his shoulder, he mounted his newly–acquired steed, and began leisurely to drive the others towards the Delaware camp. As soon as he emerged from the valley he came in sight of the enemy’s sentries and outposts; but the well–known wolf–skin cap and elk–skin shirt attracted no particular attention, and he rode deliberately forward until he reached a huge pine–tree, the shade of whose branches was rendered yet more dark by the deepening gloom of evening. Here he fastened his horse; and leaving the others to find their way as they best might, he struck boldly into the thicket that fringed the base of the hill.
Conscious that he was now in the midst of enemies, and that his life must depend upon his own skill and address, he crept forward up the steep ascent, now stopping to listen for the sound of a footfall, now straining his eyes through the dusky shade in search of some light or object by which to direct his course. Knowing every inch of the ground, he was, soon able to distinguish the angle of the stockade, and at no great distance above it the white tent, partially lighted up by a fire, round which were seated Monsieur Perrot, Pierre, and several others.
As night drew on, and the surrounding scenery became involved in deeper gloom, the watch–fire emitted a stronger light, by which Mahéga caught, at length, a view of Reginald seated by the side of Prairie–bird. All the stormy passions in his breast, jealousy, hatred, and revenge, were kindled at the sight; and as soon as he thought the muzzle of his rifle truly aimed at his rival’s heart, he fired. Fortunate was it for Reginald, that the light cast by the fire was flickering and uncertain, or that hour had been his last.
The savage, without waiting to see the result of his shot, which had alarmed the hunters and the Delawares patrolling near the spot, rushed down the hill towards the tree where he had left his horse. Twice was his path crossed by an enemy; the first he felled with a blow on the head from the discharged rifle; and the second, which was no less a person than honest Baptiste himself, he narrowly missed, in firing a pistol in his face at so near a distance that, although unhurt by the ball, his cheek was singed by the powder.
Completely taken by surprise, the guide fired into the bushes after the retreating figure of his unknown foe, and then dashed forward in pursuit; but the darkness favoured the escape of the Osage, who never paused nor turned again until he reached the spot where he had fastened the horse; then vaulting on its back, he shouted his insulting war–cry, in a voice that might be heard above all the mingled sounds of pursuit, struck his heel into the flank of the captured steed, and, unscathed by any of the bullets that whistled after him, reached the Crow camp in safety.
The Osage warriors looked with some surprise upon their chief in his unusual attire, but he briefly returned their greeting, and proceeded without delay to the lodge of the Upsaroka chief. A fire was burning there, by the light of which he recognised the old man seated in the midst, with his son White–Bull on his right, and Besha at some distance on his left. Mahéga had by this time thrown off the garments of the slain hunter, which were slung across the horse. Leading the latter forward, until the light of the fire fell upon it and upon himself, he stood a moment in an attitude of haughty and silent expectation. White–Bull and his father raised their eyes in surprise at the sudden appearance of their guest, and in involuntary admiration of his herculean figure, the fine proportions of which were seen to advantage by the ruddy glare of the blazing logs.
“Let Besha tell my brother he is welcome,” said the old chief, cautiously; “and let him inquire whence he comes, and what he has to say.”
“Mahéga is come,” replied the proud Osage, “from a visit to the pale–faces and the Lenapé women. His hands are not empty; the shirt, the leggins, the belt, the head–dress, and the horse of a white hunter he has brought as a present to the Upsaroka chief. If White–Bull will receive the Medicine–weapon[78], the heart of Mahéga will be glad.”