Home > Authors Index > Edward Sylvester Ellis > Footprints in the Forest > This page
Footprints in the Forest, a novel by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
||
Chapter 32. The Prayer Of Hay-Uta Is The Prayer Of Deerfoot |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXXII. THE PRAYER OF HAY-UTA IS THE PRAYER OF DEERFOOT
He failed in both his intentions, though possibly he might have succeeded had a few seconds more been at his service. The frightful cry did arouse the Sauk, but it hardly passed the lips of the Shawanoe when the gun of their enemy was fired, and Hay-uta, leaping half-way to his feet, fell back mortally wounded. The Pawnee saw the raging Shawanoe rushing toward him like a flaming meteor. Knowing what it meant he dropped his gun and grasped his tomahawk, ready to fight the man who threatened his life only a short time before. The weapon was drawn but half way from his girdle, when, without checking his speed, Deerfoot sent his hatchet as though fired from the mouth of a cannon. The Pawnee could not have seen it coming when his skull was cloven in twain, and, with a half-suppressed shriek, he went to the earth, every spark of life driven from his body. Deerfoot stood for a moment, panting and glaring at the miscreant whom he had brought low. Then without speaking or seeking to recover his tomahawk, he turned and walked toward the Sauk, knowing it was too late to help him. A long time before when the rifle on which the young warrior relied flashed in the pan, he flung the weapon into the Ohio, and returned to his loved bow and arrow; but the failure in the former case could not be compared with that of the present; the bow had given out in the most disastrous manner that can be imagined. Deerfoot never shrank from any duty, no matter how trying to his feelings. He supposed that Hay-uta was dead, but when he looked at him, he saw that he was sitting as before with his back against the rock, his arms folded, while he was gazing at the western sky as if lost in pleasant meditation; but the deathly pallor visible through his paint, showed he had but a short time to live. Deerfoot hastened his steps, and Hay-uta turned his eyes with a smile and feebly extended his hand. The Shawanoe eagerly took it and kneeled on one knee. "Why does my brother the brave Hay-uta smile?" he asked, in a voice as low as that of a mother. "Hay-uta was looking at the clouds in the sky and he saw the face of the Great Spirit that Deerfoot told him about." "Was the Great Spirit pleased?" "He smiled and showed he loved Hay-uta,--who sees him again," added the dying warrior, turning his gaze toward the billowy clouds, tinted with gold in the rays of the declining sun. "He smiles and is waiting for me." A divine joy suffused the heart of the Shawanoe, when he not only heard these words, but noted the expression which illuminated the countenance of the Sauk, who had but a few more minutes to live. And while stirred by such emotions, there were other matters which Deerfoot could not forget. True, he had slain the only Pawnee near, but he could not feel sure that all danger from that source was gone. Others might be drawn to the spot, within a brief period, and he cast a searching glance on his surroundings, to make certain he was not taken unawares. Had a half dozen hostiles burst upon the scene, the Shawanoe would not have deserted Hay-uta, so long as breath remained in his body. There was hope for a moment on the part of Deerfoot that his friend might not be mortally hurt, but such hope vanished almost as soon as it came. The wound was in the breast; it bled slightly, but the eye of the Shawanoe (aside from the appearance of the Sauk), showed the poor fellow was beyond the power of human help. "The heart of Deerfoot is glad," said the Shawanoe, still resting on one knee, and holding the hand of Hay-uta, while he looked kindly into his face. "Deerfoot had drawn his bow, and would have driven his arrow through the heart of the dog of a Pawnee, but the bow broke and the arrow fell at the feet of Deerfoot." This statement seemed to recall Hay-uta to his situation; he compressed his thin lips, as if forcing back a moan, and his free hand groped at his side in feeble quest of something. Before Deerfoot could divine his purpose, he grasped his handsome gun, leaning against the rock, and made as if to pass it to Deerfoot. The latter was obliged to help him, and resting the stock on the ground, he leaned the muzzle toward the other, and awaited his words. "Had that been in the hand of Deerfoot, then Hay-uta had not died." "My brother speaks with a single tongue, as he always did," replied the Shawanoe, in a sad voice; "the bow is broken." "Let my brother use it no more; let him take the rifle which he now grasps." "It shall be done as my brother wishes." "The heart of Hay-uta rejoices; let my brother take the powder-horn and bullet-pouch of Hay-uta." With great gentleness, Deerfoot slipped the string of the Sauk's powder-horn over his neck, unfastened the bullet-pouch, and placed them and the proffered tomahawk about his own person. Before doing so, he detached his quiver and flung it from him. The Sauk watched his actions with more interest than would be supposed, and his pale face showed that he was pleased with the change. "My brother was given skill with the bow, but his skill is as great with the gun, and it will not fail him when he points it at the deer or at his enemy." "It is the Great Spirit who guides the arrow and bullet," was the response of the Shawanoe. "Deerfoot will use the bow no more; he will keep the rifle and tomahawk his brother Hay-uta gave him. He will think of Hay-uta and the gun will be better in the hands than the bow." "Then Deerfoot will be greater than any hunter in the west," was the remark of his friend, and that he was a true prophet will be shown by the incidents in which the Shawanoe was soon called to take part. The young warrior had no wish to hear the deserved compliments at such a time, for he saw that only a few more words could fall from the lips of the Sauk. Still holding the hand tenderly in his own, he asked in a gentler voice: "Does my brother see the face of the Great Spirit now?" The eyes that were growing dull, brightened again, and were fixed on the tinted horizon as though he saw the countenance of his Heavenly Father (and who dare say he did not?), with as much distinctness as he discerned that of the Shawanoe kneeling before him. "I see Him. He stands now with His side toward me; one foot is forward, and He is leaning over as if He is about to take a step. He reaches His hand toward me; He is only waiting till I place my hand in His." Then, fixing with an effort his gaze on the Shawanoe, Hay-uta, whose mind began to wander, said: "The Great Spirit looks toward Deerfoot; He waits to hear him speak." The Sauk became silent, and Deerfoot prayed for a few minutes with the touching faith of childhood. When he was nearly done, he unconsciously dropped into his own tongue. "The prayer of Deerfoot to the Great Spirit is that He will take the hand of Hay-uta, which reaches upward to Him and lead him into the hunting grounds, beyond the clouds and sun and stars. The prayer of Hay-uta is the prayer of Deerfoot." Having finished, the Shawanoe ceased and looked into the face of the Sauk, awaiting what further request he might make. The calm, triumphant expression which lit up the features, led him to expect a movement of the lips, but it needed only a second glance to discover that Hay-uta the Sauk was dead. Deerfoot looked closely at him, and then, rising to his feet, scanned the surrounding solitude. While Hay-uta had seated himself where he gained an unobstructed view of the sky, he was not at the top of the ridge, nor was he liable to be discovered by any enemies at a distance. It was a fatal mischance which brought the treacherous Pawnee that way. From where Deerfoot stood, he could see the feet and leggings of the fallen Pawnee, who lay flat on his back as though looking at the sky; but no living person was in sight. The Shawanoe waited a brief while, debating with himself as to his duty toward his dead friend. While he was without the means of burying him, he could place the body in some less conspicuous position, yet he took a different course. Before the limbs of the dead warrior were given time to stiffen, Deerfoot adjusted them as they were when he first discovered him sunk in meditation. The body was made to sit erect, the back supported by the rock behind it; the feet were extended in a natural position, and the arms folded across the massive chest. The partly-open eyes seemed still to rest on the western horizon, behind which the sun had set. Though Indian superstition would have caused the body to face the other way, to greet the rising sun, Deerfoot had no wish to change the posture; for Hay-uta died not as dies the heathen, but as passes away the Christian. [Illustration: THE DEATH OF HAY-UTA.] It would have been hard for any one venturing from the woods, and catching sight of the body for the first time, to believe the spark of life had fled. The Shawanoe viewed the striking figure, and felt that he had done the most fitting thing. Looking up at the darkened sky he asked the Great Spirit to protect the body from molestation by wild man or beast, and then, with a faint sigh, he turned away, and passing over the ridge, hastened toward the rendezvous, where Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub had been told to await his coming. Months afterward, a party of trappers penetrating further than usual to the westward, came upon the skeleton of an Indian warrior, seated on the ground with his arms folded, and back resting against a rock behind him. They supposed he had been killed and then placed in that posture, but we know they were not altogether right in their belief. Having turned his back for the last time on Hay-uta, the Shawanoe hurried toward the ridge where he expected to rejoin his friends. It was too dark to follow any trail, and indeed there was no call to do so. Had nothing interfered, he knew the neighborhood of the spot where he would find the boys, and he hastened toward it. Even if he went somewhat astray, it would be no difficult matter to open communication with them. The stream in which Jack and Otto had such rare sport scarcely checked the progress of the Shawanoe, but when a short while after, he caught the glimpse of a camp-fire on the slope of the ridge, he was displeased; for it showed a degree of recklessness in them that he could not excuse. If they chose to encamp there, they ought to have known better than to turn it into a beacon light to guide the hostiles for miles around. With an expression of displeasure, Deerfoot hastened his footsteps, and reached camp sooner than he or his young friends anticipated. It can be understood that the surprise was great on the part of all. _ |
||