Chapter 7. Two Visitors

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_ CHAPTER VII. TWO VISITORS

On the evening succeeding the departure of Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub from the little settlement of Martinsville, the widowed mother of Jack was seated by her fireside engaged in knitting. The night was cold, and the huge sticks of wood were roaring and crackling in the broad fireplace, and throwing a cheerful glow and warmth through the room. The tallow candle on the mantel had not been lit, for there was no need of it, and, despite the loneliness and poverty of the sad-faced woman, there was an air of neatness and comfort about her home which would have tempted any one who could look through the narrow window into the homely, old-fashioned apartment.

The deft fingers flew back and forth as regularly as the most delicate machinery, until all at once the lady stopped and allowed her hands to rest in her lap. At the same moment a sigh escaped her, and she looked into the glowing embers.

It was not hard to guess where her thoughts were; they were with that only child who had gone forth in the woods to help the German lad look for the missing horse. Mrs. Carleton smiled as she reflected upon a certain absurdity which marked the whole business, for, look at it as she chose, there was something grotesque in the project of two youths setting out to hunt for a horse that had been wandering for days in a limitless wood. But the smile quickly gave way to the serious expression which not often left the face of the mother since that awful night when her husband was stricken down by the fierce red men of Kentucky.

"I trust God will not forget my boy," were the almost inaudible words that came to her lips. "He has wonderfully preserved him through many perils, and my heart misgives me now that I allowed him to go from under my roof."

Just then the latch-string was spitefully pulled, the door was pushed inward, and Jacob Relstaub entered. The angry man was short of stature, clumsily dressed, and the only weapon he carried was a heavy, knotted cane, if that may be termed such, which was his companion when moving about the sparse settlement. It has already been said that he was parsimonious, cross-grained, and cruel-hearted, and he had been in specially ill-temper since the return of his boy without the horse upon which so much value was set.

The door swung to of itself, and the German, stopping short in the middle of the room, banged his cane upon the floor, and, looking savagely at the quiet lady who had nodded and bidden him good evening, demanded:

"Vere is mine poy, Otto?"

"Don't you know?" asked the widow in return, with a tone of surprise.

"No, I does not; he says he goes off mit your poy, but dey both lies--don't it?"

"My boy never tells a falsehood," was the quiet response of Mrs. Carleton, whose pale cheek slightly flushed. "Your Otto told the truth as you well know. Not only that, but he only obeyed you when he went out in the woods to run into all kinds of danger in search of an animal which I do not believe can possibly be found."

"All poys ish bad," said the visitor with an impatient sniff, as he took off his cap and slouched to a chair on the opposite side of the fire. "Your poy ish badder dan any oder poy; mine Otto is lazy, and if he doesn't pring pack dot horse I vill pounds him till he don't live."

"He may _never_ come back," said the lady in a low, impressive voice which would have moved anyone else, but it was lost on the boorish visitor.

"Hoof! No fear of dot; he alvays comes back ven ve doesn't vant him to come back."

"Well," said Mrs. Carleton with a sigh, "I am sorry I let Jack go, for if he had insisted on staying home your boy would have done the same, though if I was in Otto's place I would consider the woods, with all their dangers and sufferings, preferable to living with a parent who is as unfeeling as you."

Jacob Relstaub had both of his horny hands folded over the top of his heavy cane, which rested on the floor between his large shoes, while his cap, somewhat resembling the peaked head-gear of his boy, lay beside him. His broad, ill-favored countenance was darkened by a frown, and it was easy for the lady to see that the fellow still doubted her word. His manner of looking about the large room, and a habit of listening intently, as though he expected to bear approaching footsteps, showed that he suspected Otto was hiding somewhere in the cabin. Mrs. Carleton understood his feelings and she was annoyed to anger, for her sensitive nature felt the insult keenly. Beside, she despised the coarse nature of the man who seemed so totally lacking in humanity.

The lady was on the point of reproving him with sharp words, when both were astonished by a gentle knock on the door, such a hail being contrary to all the rules of the frontier, when the latch-string is not drawn in. Both looked quickly toward the entrance, and the lady raised her voice and said:

"The latch-string is out!"

The words were yet on her lips when it was pulled, and the door swung inward.

The firelight fell upon the figure of an Indian warrior, who stopped on the threshold as if he doubted whether he would be welcome when those within saw him. As he stood with the blank darkness behind him and the crimson glow from the burning logs lighting up the front of his body, he formed a most striking picture.

He was the ideal of symmetry and manly beauty--one of those productions of the American race which are very rare, but which, when seen, are the nearest approach to physical and mental perfection that is ever attained in this world. He was about five feet ten inches in height, and with body and limbs in as perfect proportion as the chisel of Phidias ever carved from marble. Even his long, black hair, which hung luxuriantly and loosely about his shoulders, was of softer texture than is the rule with his people. Several stained eagle feathers slanted upward and outward from the crown, and a double row of brilliant beads encircled his neck. A fine gold bracelet clasped his left wrist, and the deer-skin hunting shirt and leggings were clean, and of the finest possible make. They retained their dull, yellow hue, but the girdle which clasped his body at the waist was of a red color, so bright that it seemed likely to attract dangerous attention in the forest. The leggings were fringed, and the delicate moccasins were also ornamented with colored beads. The heavy blanket which he carried during severe weather was lacking, for it would have been only an encumbrance when the climate was mild.

Into the girdle were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, while a long bow was carried in his right hand, and a quiver full of arrows rested behind his right shoulder, where they could be snatched forth on the instant. The youthful warrior carried no firearms, for he depended alone on the primitive weapons which his people had used for centuries.

Splendid as were the frame and limbs of the youth, the greatest attraction lay in his countenance. His features were classical in their regularity, excepting the nose, which was just enough aquiline to give character to his face, and take away the femininity which otherwise might cling to it.

When he smiled in his faint, shadowy fashion, his teeth were seen to be small, white, regular, and without the slightest defect, while the lustrous black eyes glowed with light and feeling. Having closed the door behind him, he still hesitated to advance until assured he was welcome.

Although Mrs. Carleton had never seen him before, she was certain of his identity, and, rising from her seat, she asked:

"Are you Deerfoot the Shawanoe?"

He smiled and inclined his head.

"You are the friend of my boy, and of Otto, the son of Mr. Relstaub. There is no one in the world who could be more welcome than you. Come forward and take a seat nearer the fire."

The dusky countenance flushed with pleasure, for the words were warmer than he was accustomed to hear.

Deerfoot advanced a couple of steps, and, reaching over, drew the rude stool to him. His diffidence would not allow him to go very near the blaze.

When Jacob Relstaub heard the name pronounced, he uttered an angry sniff and banged his cane upon the floor. He said nothing; but he detested the handsome Indian youth, whom he had driven from his door when he asked for shelter, and he knew he had been the companion of his boy on the stirring journey from Kentucky to Louisiana. It mattered not that the masterful woodcraft of the dusky friend had saved the life of Otto Relstaub; all that the German remembered was that the valuable horse was lost, and he blamed this Indian for it, as he censured Jack Carleton for the same misfortune. The man, however, said nothing for a few minutes.

It was manifest from the manner of Deerfoot that he was disappointed because he did not meet Jack Carleton. He cast but a single glance around the apartment, which showed him his young friend was not present; then, as he gently seated himself, he looked into the pale face of the widow and said:

"Deerfoot sees not his brother."

"No; Jack and Otto set out on a long hunt this morning. They may be back in a few days and perhaps not for a fortnight."

"Have they gone to look for the horse that was lost?"

"Yes," answered the lady, with a smile; "I am ashamed to say they have; but I ask your pardon; have you had supper? Will you not permit me to give you to eat?"

She was about to rise when Deerfoot, who was resting his bow on the floor, while he grasped the center as though it was a cane, motioned with his left hand for her to retain her seat.

"The mother of my friend is good and kind, but Deerfoot cannot eat."

He appeared to be on the point of saying something more, but restrained himself. The mother was quick to perceive it, and a pang of dread stirred her heart.

"What were you about to say?" she asked, in her abrupt fashion, suspending the knitting which she was in the very act of resuming.

Deerfoot was too truthful to deceive her outright; but it is fair to presume he did not say all that was in his thoughts.

"Deerfoot is sorry his brothers have gone to look for the horse."

"Why?" quickly asked the mother.

"They cannot find him."

"Vy don't they finds him?" asked Jacob Relstaub, banging his cane again and glaring fiercely at the youth, as though ready to spring upon him.

Deerfoot looked calmly in the forbidding countenance, and asked, more directly than was his custom:

"Are you the father of my brother, Otto?"

"Yaw; of course I ish. He is one pad poy, as you ish de wust Injin dot effer vasn't."

Without the least visible excitement, and in the same deliberate monotone, Deerfoot still looking him straight in the face:

"The father of Otto is a dog; he has no heart. The Great Spirit hides his face with shame when he looks upon him."

"VAT!" roared Jacob, half rising to his chair and grasping his knobby cane with both hands, while he trembled with rage. "You don't speak dot vays to me and I breaks your head."

He suddenly straightened up, and all aglow with fury advanced upon Deerfoot, who placed his left hand on his knife, quietly arose and faced him, without speaking. _

Read next: Chapter 8. A Surprise

Read previous: Chapter 6. An Involuntary Bath

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