The goods thus taken out he concealed about his person, and went off with a careless swagger to the outskirts of the village, with Crusoe at his heels. Arrived there, he tied the goods in a small piece of deerskin, and gave the bundle to the dog, with the injunction, “Take it yonder, pup.”
Crusoe took it up at once, darted off at full speed with the bundle in his mouth, down the shore of the lake towards the ford of the river, and was soon lost to view. In this way, little by little, the goods were conveyed by the faithful dog to the willow-bluff and left there, while the stuffed pack still remained in safekeeping in the chief’s tent.
Joe did not at first like the idea of thus sneaking off from the camp; and more than once made strong efforts to induce San-it-sa-rish to let him go, but even that chief’s countenance was not so favourable as it had been. It was clear that he could not make up his mind to let slip so good a chance of obtaining guns, powder, and shot, horses and goods, without any trouble; so Joe made up his mind to give them the slip at once.
A dark night was chosen for the attempt, and the Indian woman went off with the horses to the place where firewood for the camp was usually cut. Unfortunately the suspicion of that wily savage Mahtawa had been awakened, and he stuck close to the hunters all day—not knowing what was going on, but feeling convinced that something was brewing which he resolved to watch, without mentioning his suspicions to any one.
“I think that villain’s away at last,” whispered Joe to his comrades; “it’s time to go, lads, the moon won’t be up for an hour. Come along.”
“Have ye got the big powder-horn, Joe?”
“Ay, ay, all right.”
“Stop! stop! my knife, my couteau. Ah! here it be. Now, boy.”
The three set off as usual, strolling carelessly to the outskirts of the camp; then they quickened their pace, and, gaining the lake, pushed off in a small canoe.
At the same moment Mahtawa stepped from the bushes, leaped into another canoe and followed them.
“Hah! he must die,” muttered Henri.
“Not at all,” said Joe, “we’ll manage him without that.”
The chief landed and strode boldly up to them, for he knew well that whatever their purpose might be, they would not venture to use their rifles within sound of the camp at that hour of the night; as for their knives, he could trust to his own active limbs and the woods to escape and give the alarm if need be.
“The Pale-faces hunt very late,” he said with a malicious grin. “Do they love the dark better than the sunshine?”
“Not so,” replied Joe, coolly, “but we love to walk by the light of the moon. It will be up in less than an hour, and we mean to take a long ramble to-night.”
“The Pawnee chief loves to walk by the moon too, he will go with the Pale-faces.”
“Good,” ejaculated Joe. “Come along, then.”
The party immediately set forward, although the savage was a little taken by surprise at the indifferent way in which Joe received his proposal to accompany them. He walked on to the edge of the prairie, however, and then stopped.
“The Pale-faces must go alone,” said he; “Mahtawa will return to his tent.”
Joe replied to this intimation by seizing him suddenly by the throat and choking back the yell that would otherwise have brought the Pawnee warriors rushing to the scene of action in hundreds. Mahtawa’s hand was on the handle of his scalping-knife in a moment, but before he could draw it, his arms were glued to his sides by the bear-like embrace of Henri, while Dick tied a handkerchief quickly yet firmly round his mouth. The whole thing was accomplished in two minutes. After taking his knife and tomahawk away, they loosened their gripe and escorted him swiftly over the prairie.
Mahtawa was perfectly submissive after the first convulsive struggle was over. He knew that the men who walked on each side of him grasping his arms were more than his match singly, so he wisely made no resistance.
Hurrying him to a clump of small trees on the plain which was so far distant from the village that a yell could not be heard, they removed the bandage from Mahtawa’s mouth.
“Must he be kill?” inquired Henri, in a tone of commiseration.
“Not at all” answered Joe, “we’ll tie him to a tree and leave him there.”
“Then he vill be starve to deat’. Oh! dat is more horrobell!”
“He must take his chance o’ that. I’ve no doubt his friends’ll find him in a day or two, an’ he’s game to last for a week or more. But you’ll have to run to the willow-bluff, Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie him. We can’t spare it well; but there’s no help.”
“But there is help,” retorted Dick. “Just order the villain to climb into that tree.”
“Why so, lad?”
“Don’t ask questions, but do what I bid ye.”
The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to the Indian, and ordered him to climb up a small tree near to which he stood. Mahtawa looked surprised, but there was no alternative. Joe’s authoritative tone brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a monkey.
“Crusoe,” said Dick, “watch him!”
The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and fixed his eyes on the savage with a glare that spoke unutterable things. At the same time he displayed his full compliment of teeth, and uttered a sound like distant thunder.
Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.
“Come along, he’s safe now,” cried Dick, hurrying away in the direction of the willow-bluff, which they soon reached, and found that the faithful squaw had tied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover, had bundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it on the back of the pack-horse; but she had not remained with them.
“Bless yer dark face,” ejaculated Joe as he sprang into the saddle and rode out of the clump of bushes. He was followed immediately by the others, and in three minutes they were flying over the plain at full speed.
On gaining the last far-off ridge, that afforded a distant view of the woods skirting the Pawnee camp, they drew up, and Dick, putting his fingers to his mouth, drew a long, shrill whistle.
It reached the willow-bluff like a faint echo. At the same moment the moon arose and more clearly revealed Crusoe’s catalyptic glare at the Indian chief, who, being utterly unarmed, was at the dog’s mercy. The instant the whistle fell on his ear, however, he dropped his eyes, covered his teeth, and, leaping through the bushes, flew over the plains like an arrow. At the same instant Mahtawa, descending from his tree, ran as fast as he could towards the village, uttering the terrible war-whoop when near enough to be heard. No sound sends such a thrill through an Indian camp. Every warrior flew to arms, and vaulted on his steed. So quickly was the alarm given that in less than ten minutes a thousand hoofs were thundering on the plain, and faintly reached the ears of the fugitives.
Joe smiled. “It’ll puzzle them to come up wi’ nags like ours. They’re in prime condition too, lots o’ wind in ’em. If we only keep out o’ badger holes we may laugh at the
