The Lost Trail by Edward Sylvester Ellis (books to read this summer .TXT) 📗

head and looking back at the Osage chief as he stepped into the feeble light.

The figure of the Indian was striking. He was striding slowly along, as if impressed with his own importance, his arms folded beneath the blanket in front, so as to hold it together and keep them out of sight. His teeth were still closed on the red pipe-stem, and the blue puffs passed over his head as if it were steam which was working the machinery of his legs.

The thought which constantly remained with Otto Relstaub, and which caused him the keenest suffering, was that the Indian was likely at any moment to leap upon him with uplifted knife. It is a characteristic of the American race that its representatives often add to the distress of their captives by toying with them as a cat does with a mouse before crunching it in its jaws.

The lad was almost certain his captor meant to slay him, after first torturing him in this manner, but the poor boy could see no possible way in which to help himself. If the savage should spring upon him, it would be like the leap of the panther-quick, crushing, and resistless in its fury.

With a faint hope that he might be able to do something for himself when the worst should come, Otto stealthily drew out his hunting-knife, and held it tightly grasped. One thing was certain, that, weak and almost helpless as he was, he would not submit without making a good fight for himself.

CHAPTER XXIII AN ABORIGINAL HOME

The terrifying walk of Otto Relstaub ended sooner and more agreeably than he anticipated. He had in fact gone but a short ways when he became aware that the Osage had a definite destination before him. A light flashed out from the gloom in front, vanishing before the boy could locate it. A few steps further and it reappeared, again dropping from sight.

Otto was walking slowly, intently peering in the direction and naturally wondering what it all meant, when, as he moved slightly to the left, it once more came to view. This showed that it was visible only when approached along a certain line. It was not an ordinary camp-fire, but the light flitted in and out of sight, on account of the objects intervening between it and the spectator; there was absolutely but a single line of advance which would keep it in view.

The Indian gave no expression to his views, but the rustling leaves told that he was still treading on the heels of the lad, who knew that so long as he walked straight toward the light, he was following the wishes of his master.

Suddenly something flitted in front of the blaze, as though a person had stepped quickly past. But Otto had secured the range, so to speak, and so far as the trees and undergrowth permit, he advanced in a direct line. The distance being short, the whole thing speedily became clear to him.

The fire was burning within and at the further side of a wigwam, and was first seen through the opening which served as an entrance. Thus it was that when he diverged to the right or left it was shut from sight.

"It ish, de vigvam of him," thought Otto, "ish going to takes me mit dere, and pieces to makes de childrens laugh."

The boy softly returned the knife to its place, for he was anxious that the chieftain should see no signs of fear on his part. A few steps further and he stopped in front of the door of the lodge, afraid to enter until something more was said by his master.

The entrance of Otto into the aboriginal home was anything but dignified. The proprietor observing that he had halted, gave him such a powerful shove that he sprawled headlong in the middle of the "apartment."

"Oof!" grunted the sachem, bending his head so as to push his body through the opening, which was not closed after him; "lazy dog!"

Otto did not think it wise to dispute the question. He was not hurt by the fall, and rising, stepped back against the side of the lodge and took a good view of his surroundings.

The wigwam of the Osage chieftain was similar to those which may be found to-day on the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, in the depths of the wilderness along the Assiniboine, on the shores of Athabasca Lake in the far North, and beyond the Llano Estacado of the South. It was modeled in the same style that was fashionable when Columbus saw the lights of the New World twinkling through the gloom of the night across the unknown sea, and which will prevail so long as the American Indian roams the woods and wields the tomahawk.

A half dozen poles were pushed into the ground in a rude circle, so as to include a space between four and five yards in diameter. The tops of the poles joined, as do the bayonets of muskets when stacked. This framework was covered with the skins of bison and deer, sewed together with the sinews of the latter. At the peak of the roof was an opening a foot in diameter, partly filled by the network of poles there locked together. This answered for a chimney to the fire kindled at one side of the lodge.

Directly opposite the fireplace (if it may be called that), was the opening which served as a door, there being no other outlet except the one named. The deer-skin could be flung back or allowed to hang down. If the wind set it to flapping, it was pinned fast with a knife or sharp stick.

The ground in most places was covered with bison-skins, so that in moderately cold weather they were comfortable and pleasant to sit and recline upon. The skins composing the sides of the wigwam were soiled with smoke, grease and dirt for alas! nearly all the romance and charm enveloping the American Indian is dissipated at first sight by his frightful lack of cleanliness.

But Otto Relstaub had viewed the interior of Indian wigwams before, and his interest was fixed upon the occupants, of whom there were three beside himself. The squaw or wife of the chief was at the further end, or rather the side opposite the door, busy broiling two slices of venison on the coals. She had no kettle, pan, knife or fork in the lodge, her sole implement being a sharpened stick, scarcely a foot in length, which she used in turning and handling the meat.

When Otto came tumbling through the door, the mistress was in the act of lifting one of the slices from the coals. She was on her knees, and paused for a second with the meat in air, while she glanced around to see whether her lord and master had been imbibing too much fire-water. One glance was enough, and she turned back and gave her attention to the culinary operations.

She wore moccasins, leggings, and a species of loose hunting-shirt, tied with a cord about the waist, and which protected her-body quite well, though the deer-skin composing it looked as if it had served as a part of the wigwam for a number of years. Her long, black hair dangled about her shoulders, as did that of her husband, and she was no more cleanly in her person than was he.

Perhaps the most interesting object in the place was an Indian infant, less than a year old, which lay on a bison-robe not far from the fire. It was a male, too young to walk, though it had been freed from the coffin-like cradle in which the aboriginal babies are strapped and carried on the backs of their mothers.

The little fellow was covered to his arm-pits, the bare arms lying outside on the bison-robe. He kept these going in an awkward, spasmodic fashion, which caused the infantile fist now and then to land in his eye. On such occasions the organ winked very suddenly, and the boy seemed to start with a gasp of surprise, but he did not cry. Young as he was, he had been trained in the iron school which makes the American Indian indifferent to suffering and torture.

This aboriginal youth showed more interest in the new arrival than did any one else. His fists became motionless, his head flapped over on one side, and the twinkling black eyes were fixed upon Otto as though they would read him through. If we could recall the fancies that flitted through our brains at that early stage of existence, what a wonderful kaleidoscope it would present!

The limits of the wigwam were so moderate that the sachem was compelled to lay aside most of his dignity. Seating himself on a robe, just across from their guest, he said something to his squaw, and then, leaning back, with his legs crossed and his arms folded, he placidly smoked his pipe and awaited supper. The wife answered with what sounded like a half dozen grunts, but did not look around or cease giving her full attention to the broiling venison.

The prisoner observed a long, fine-looking rifle leaning against one side of the wigwam, the powder-horn and bullet-pouch on the ground near the stock. Beside them, a bow as long and powerful as that of Deerfoot; and a quiver half full of arrows also lay on the earth. Like the Shawanoe, the Osage was an adept in the use of both weapons.

In addition to the furniture referred to, a few cast-off garments of the owners were flung on one side, while some additional pieces of venison lay upon, or rather among, a mass of leaves, where they could be found when needed. The smoke from the fire found its way through the opening in the roof, and the vapor from the pipe of the Osage, after slowly winding above his head, seemed to lean off to one side and grope its way toward the same vent. A partial draught was created through the door of the wigwam, by which the impure air was carried away, and the interior rendered much more pleasant than would be supposed.

Like a true native American gentleman, the chieftain sat calmly enjoying his pipe, while his wife did the work of the household, and she, in accordance with universal law, accepted the drudgery as one of the necessities of existence.

There were some facts respecting the Indian wigwam and its owner which may as well be stated in this place. The red man had been a chief of the Osage tribe, but a violent quarrel with his people caused him to withdraw, and he was living entirely alone in the woods with his family. The village where he had reigned so long was miles distant. He had a number of partisans who occasionally called at his "residence" to see and urge him to return, but he continued sulking in his tent, smoked his awful pipe, and shook his head to all their appeals.

The wigwam, while similar in shape to the hundreds still to be found in the wilderness of the North American continent differed in some respects, while retaining the same general form. Many a lodge contains but the single ridge-pole, standing in the centre of the structure, which, in the shape of a cone, is gathered at the top and spreads out at the bottom, where it is fastened in place by pegs, similar to those of the ordinary army tent.

Otto Relstaub, being relieved from his fear of instant death, became sensitive to the appetizing odor of the broiling deer-steaks, and looked longingly toward the unattractive cook, whose only redeeming feature was the beauty of her teeth, which were as regular and almost as white as those of Deerfoot.

When, a few minutes later, the slices of meat were ready, the squaw flung one to her master, who dextrously caught it with his right hand while he removed the pipe with the other. Laying the latter on the ground beside him, he began eating his supper, using both hands, much as a bear employs his paws.

The wife devoured her share in the same manner, the two forming a striking, but by no means attractive, picture. The meat was obviously tough, but their teeth were equal to the work, and plates, knives and forks would have been only an encumbrance.

While the mother was thus occupied, she kept looking across at her baby, who seemed to be watching her with comical wishfulness. By-and-by, the parent gave a flirt of her hand, and a piece of the venison, which she had bitten off, went flying toward the head of the youngster. He made an awkward grab with