38 The Meeting of the Chiefs

Osseo and I, after the shot, leaped from the bushes and ran southward, knowing well that Hoyoquim and his warriors would follow hot upon us. Yet we could not use our utmost speed at first, as it was needful for one of us to reload his rifle. But when this was done we ran faster. We heard nothing after the shot save one long, fierce war-whoop, and then came the silence of tenacious Indian pursuit.

We expected no easy escape. The cunning chief and the renegade would guess from some clew who we were, and every motive would urge them to our capture. Yet our blood thrilled with other emotions than those of fear. It was a test of skill and endurance, but if overtaken that was not the end; we should be as hard to hold as a wounded panther. Then my mind went back again to that ghastly face beside the river. I looked at Osseo, and, as before, he knew of what I was thinking.

“It was the will of Manito that it should be done,” he said.

We paused a moment at the top of a little hill, and, glancing back, I saw the long grass moving at the edge of the forest. I knew that the warriors, having crossed the river at once, were there, and were following us at great speed.

“We may have to fight, Osseo,” I said.

“It may be so,” he replied, “and I ask Lee that he leave the chief, Hoyoquim, to me.”

I was surprised at Osseo’s tone, and when I looked at him I saw that his eyes were flashing. He seemed to be moved by a deep emotion that broke through the Indian calm. There must be some feud between him and Hoyoquim, as I had guessed before, and I spoke at once.

“I shall not stand between you, Osseo,” I said.

We resumed our flight, plunging once more into the deep forest, running with long, easy strides.

“Let us go now in a curve, like the bending of a bow,” said Osseo presently.

“Why so?” I asked.

“The Wyandots will see it and think then to cut us off,” he replied, “and the warriors will divide. One party will follow the curve of the bow and the others will follow the string. Then if we be overtaken it will be by fewer warriors, and, if we must fight, Manito alone knows whether the Wyandots or Osseo and his friend are to be the victors.”

I turned as he wished without another word, and we went on in silence for many minutes. Then I noticed that Osseo’s speed was slackening, and I was surprised. He was as if made of steel, and never had I known him to show fatigue in so short a time; but, looking at him carefully, I saw no sign of weariness.

“Why do you check your speed, Osseo?” I asked.

“Why should we hurry and waste our breath?” he replied. “Are we fawns, that we flee thus from the hunter?”

I saw again that flash in his eye, and I knew what was passing in the soul of Osseo.

“How many are following us now?” I asked.

He dropped down suddenly and put his ear to the earth.

“But four,” he replied, springing up.

“Think you that the chief, Hoyoquim, is among them?”

“As sure as the sun shines.”

“Then we shall lead them farther away from their comrades.”

We made a deeper curve of the bow, turning far to the westward, and went on for almost an hour. Then Osseo, looking at me with that old faint, humorous twinkle in his eye, said:

“I grow as weak as a sick woman, and I can run no farther.”

There was not a drop of sweat on him, and he was as strong as steel.

“I must rest, or I die,” he said, his eyes yet twinkling.

“Then, Osseo,” I said, “it is better to rest than to die.”

He sat down on a fallen log, and I sat down beside him, each holding his rifle across his knees.

“Lee,” said Osseo, “it seems to me that some one comes for us.”

“Osseo speaks the truth,” I replied.

The bushes parted suddenly, and our pursuers leaped into view—Hoyoquim, the renegade, and two warriors. They uttered the triumphant war-whoop at sight of us, and fired just as our fingers pressed our own triggers.

Their bullets, discharged with hasty aim, missed the mark, but not so ours; our hands were steady from the rest, and we had marked the target true. The two warriors fell dead.

Then Osseo, casting down his empty rifle, drew his tomahawk. Hoyoquim did the same, and the two rushed into the glade. Each threw his tomahawk and each lightly sprang aside, the weapon whizzing by. Then, drawing their knives, they closed in a fierce combat.

I had lost my pistol somehow in the battle, and I was reloading my rifle with all the speed that I could command. The renegade was doing likewise, but my weapon was levelled again and my finger on the trigger just as he withdrew the ramrod.

“Don’t raise your rifle!” I cried. “This is no fight of ours!”

He let the weapon drop to his side, and stared at the two chiefs twined now in deadly strife, their black eyes flashing with hate, the great muscles standing upon their brown arms, and their breath short and spasmodic with their tremendous efforts. Yet neither uttered a cry, and neither sought with his eyes the help of the friend who stood near. I could have sent a bullet more than once into the body of the Wyandot chief, but I had given my word to my comrade, and there was no excuse for me to break it.

So evenly matched were they that they scarce shifted from the spot upon which they stood. Each grasped the other by the wrist, and neither could strike with his knife or tear the hand away. Watching them, I was unable to say that either had the advantage by the breadth of a hair.

How long a time passed I know not, but when I will it I can yet see those two fierce faces so close to each other and so full of hate. Nature had made them a splendid pair, equal in height and breadth and weight, and now she had brought them together to see which was the finer work of hers.

They began presently to move a little in their struggle, feet crushing upon the earth, and arms swaying slightly. I heard their loud, spasmodic breathing. Presently the form of Hoyoquim bent back a little, and Osseo bent over him. It was the end. Osseo with a sudden supreme effort tore his wrist loose from the hand of Hoyoquim, his knife flashed aloft, and the next instant it was buried in the breast of the Wyandot chieftain.

Hoyoquim reeled away, but Osseo stood where he was, motionless, his face without expression. The Wyandot plucked the knife from his breast with all his failing strength and hurled it at his enemy. Still holding himself erect, he gave us one look of defiance from drooping and bloodshot eyes, then uttered a long and thrilling war-whoop, which died away in a quaver as he fell dead at our feet.

I heard the snap of a gunlock, and wheeling about, saw the rifle of the renegade levelled at Osseo. I fired instantly and without raising my weapon to my shoulder, but the bullet sped true. The renegade fell on his face without a cry, and the earth was one black scoundrel the less.

Osseo looked down at the face of the dead Wyandot chief.

“He was a great warrior and a brave man,” he said.

When he had spoken this simple tribute to his enemy we resumed our flight.

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