The Hunters of the Ozark, Edward Sylvester Ellis [best novel books to read .txt] 📗

any one to saa us and slaap till mornin'."

Since there was nothing else to do, the boys did as Terry proposed. They were not so tired as they were the night before, and they did not dare to lie down on the leaves and sleep as they did then. There were wild animals prowling through the woods, and the fact that the lads escaped once could be no guaranty that they would have equally good fortune a second time.

Terry proposed that they should climb a tree and make a bed among the branches; but that was hardly feasible. It is not often that the limbs of a tree are accommodating enough to allow any one to rest with comfort. The branches may be pleasant for a time, but the limbs soon become like iron rods and the position so cramped as to drive away all comfort. In addition, there was the danger of a fatal fall during sleep.

So it was decided to hunt out the most secluded place possible and start a fire. That would keep off the wild animals, and the boys were not in such need of sleep that they could not afford to take turns with each other in watching through the night.

While hunting a suitable spot, they moved down the river bank for fully a hundred yards, and then entered some dense undergrowth which they penetrated until they were sure that no safer place could be found. So they began gathering twigs, leaves and branches, and piling them against the shaggy bark of a tree, and soon had all they wanted. This was fired by means of the flint and steel, and a roaring, crackling blaze made every thing look cheerful.

"Let's walk off a little ways," said Fred, "and see whether the light can be noticed very far; you know that we can not be too careful."

Terry liked the proposal, and rose to act upon it. They moved in opposite directions, walking several rods, and then carefully passing entirely around the camp-fire. The result was satisfactory, for the undergrowth in all directions was so thick that they felt as secure from discovery as if the fire had been kindled within an impenetrable cave.

And yet they were woefully mistaken, as they were destined to learn in a brief while.


CHAPTER XXXV.

AMERICA VERSUS IRELAND.

Having satisfied themselves that they could not have fallen upon a safer place, the boys came back to their camp, as it may be called, and sat down in front of the blaze. Their knapsacks were unstrapped from their backs and the blankets spread upon the leaves. There was some moisture in the thick cloth, but not enough to deter them from using them as couches. Their own clothing had become dry, and, under the warm glow of the fire, the blankets would soon be the same.

In spite of the reconnoissance just made, both felt some uneasiness over their own situation. They were confident that no one further away than two or three rods would observe the fire, but the possibility remained that some enemy might pass within that space, brief as it was. Their experience since leaving Greville taught them that a large number of Winnebagos were in the wilderness, and, as Terry remarked, the nearer they approached camp, the more plentiful did they seem to become.

It was this feeling which caused them to let the fire sink to half its first size and led them to keep far back within the circle of light thrown into the surrounding gloom. They talked in low voices, often listening and looking around, and were in any thing but a comfortable frame of mind. The feeling with them was that if any enemy should happen to be lurking in the vicinity, every possible advantage would be on his side.

"I feel, Terry, as though all this is wasted time. I know it is more than likely that the Winnebagos are doing the same as we, that is, nothing at all; but that makes me more anxious to push on."

"I've an idaa," remarked the Irish lad, who was stretched out in a lazy posture, with his cap in hand, while, as was his custom, he scratched his pate with the other; "I'm thinkin' why couldn't we aich take a torch in hand and walk along over the path with the same?"

Fred was half inclined to try the experiment, but fear prevented. They had learned that the Winnebagos were not only in the rear but in front. No more conspicuous target can be given than that of a person carrying a lighted torch: it was the same as when a man with a candle in his hand starts out to explore his house for burglars. So that plan was not adopted.

Terry was about to speak to his companion, when the latter saw him start, and, rising quickly to the sitting position, stare at a point beyond Fred. He had seen something that terrified him.

With his big round eyes still fixed on the gloom behind young Linden, Terry stealthily reached for his gun, which lay on the leaves close by, and softly drew back the flint. Fred, as may be supposed, was alarmed, and starting half to his feet, glanced nervously around.

He saw nothing.

"What's the matter?" he asked in an undertone, as he also laid his hand upon his weapon.

"Whin I was lookin' at ye," said Terry in a husky whisper, "I obsarved one of the spalpeens standin' right behind ye and close enough to touch ye with his hand. Before I could spake, he slipped out of sight like a shadder."

Fred did not ask his companion whether he was sure of what he said, for he knew he was not mistaken.

"That shows we shouldn't have started the fire; it has caught the eye of some of the Indians, who will be here in a few minutes; let's slip back in the darkness and get as far off as we can; it don't make much difference what course we take, but it will never do to stay here."

Fred Linden had no more than completed his guarded remark, when he too caught sight of a warrior standing on the very edge of the circle of light and looking straight at him. The view of the dusky intruder was faint but unmistakable.

The outlines and figure received enough of the firelight to cause him to look like a dim painting against a dark background. He was holding a rifle in one hand and appeared to be contemplating the lads, as if seeking to learn their identity before he advanced or performed some action.

"_Sh!_ don't stir," whispered Fred, softly raising the hammer of his gun, "I see him,--I'll drop him!"

With the utmost caution he brought the gun around in front until it was almost to his breast. Then as quickly as he could he raised it to his shoulder and aimed at the daring redskin.

But the latter was invisible, he had vanished like the picture on the slide of a magic lantern.

As you may suppose, the boys began to feel queer. There was something so peculiar about this business that, as Terry expressed it, he was "crawly all over." What they might have done can only be guessed, for before they could move away from the fire, Deerfoot the Shawanoe, who had been having a little amusement at their expense, advanced from the gloom and addressed them.

"The heart of Deerfoot is glad when he sees his brothers do not sleep; he has watched them, but their eyes are open."

"Wal, be the powers!" muttered Terry Clark, hastily rising to his feet, as did Fred; "the spalpeen that plays that trick on me has got to fight it out."

And he began taking off his coat and spitting on his hands, to show that the matter could only be settled by a bout at fisticuffs. Deerfoot had extended his hand to Fred and he smiled at the combative Irish lad, who put up his fists and began dancing about him in the most belligerent fashion.

"Give him a trial," whispered Fred, with a laugh.

"Deerfoot loves his brothers; he can not hurt them."

"If ye can git the bist of mesilf," said Terry, who was still sawing the air and hopping about as though the ground had become hot; "I'll think more of ye than iver before, bein' that I think more of ye now than I ever can, and I defy ye to sit your gun aside and git the bist of me in any way."

"Go for him," urged Fred, knowing that the Irish boy, strong and active as he was, had no chance with the Shawanoe; "he thinks he is your master when you don't use your weapons. If you will give him a lesson, it will do him good."

"Deerfoot will try to be a teacher to my brother," said the Shawanoe gravely, handing his gun to Fred, and following with his knife and tomahawk, that he might have no weapons except such as nature gave him. Then he threw some wood on the fire, so that the space immediately surrounding them was as light as noonday. Finally, every thing being ready, he proceeded to "go for" Mr. Terence Clark in a truly aboriginal fashion.

Now, it must be borne in mind that, though there was and could not be the least ill feeling between the youths, yet each was resolutely resolved to overcome the other in the most emphatic manner at his command. Terry did not mean to batter the handsome face of his dusky friend, but to tap it so smartly that he would feel it. The naturally combative lad was an adept with his fists, and he meant to strike Deerfoot often enough to convince him of his inferiority. Then he would rush in, seize the young warrior and throw him to the ground, repeating it several times, until his antagonist cried, "Hold! Enough!" Fred Linden was to play the part of referee, and decide which was the better man. Thus you see the match bore some similarity to those of the present day, in which the victor is declared to be the one who in a certain number of rounds gains the advantage of the other.

"As I am to be the boss of this business," sald Fred, with the keenest zest, "let me explain the terms: Each one is to strike the other as often as he can, the blows to be sharp enough to be felt pretty plainly, but not enough to cause any injury. I will let this go on until one of you has enough, or until I am satisfied of the superiority of one over the other. After that you are to have a wrestling match. When I call for you to stop, you must do so, no matter how anxious you may be to go on. Is that understood?"

"The terms are agraaable to mesilf," said Terry; "it is sittled that there's to be no bettin' on the match."

"I have no objection to your betting if you wish, but inasmuch as you haven't a cent and Deerfoot never did such a thing as bet in all his life, I don't think there will be any trouble about holding the stakes."

"There ain't to be any foul blows in this," added Terry, who showed that he knew more than most of his friends about the "Irish champions" and the cause that made them champions of England and Ireland.

"What do you mean by foul blows?" asked the puzzled Fred.

"Hits