"The Shawanoe needs no weapon to conquer the Blackfoot squaw!"

Then Deerfoot voluntarily placed himself in front of the furious warrior, without any weapon with which to defend himself. Not only that, he folded his arms over his breast and with biting irony added:

"Now let the Blackfoot think he has a squaw in front of him; then he will strike hard, if his hand does not tremble."

It was more than flesh and blood could stand. The pa.s.sion within the breast of the chief broke into a volcano-like flame. With a hissing gasp he sprang forward, striking swiftly with his knife, first downward, then upward and then from side to side, as if he meant to cut the execrated youth into ribbons. He repeated the wild blows with a celerity that almost prevented the eye from following the movements.

But, as before, he split only vacancy. Deerfoot easily eluded the strokes, which were blinder than usual, for Taggarak was beside himself with pa.s.sion. In the midst of his aimless outburst the Shawanoe did another thing which was worthy of a skilled pugilist. Waiting for an opening, he shot his left hand forward, and, with the open palm, landed a stunning blow on the bridge of the chief's nose. The advantage of such a blow is that, when rightly delivered, tears are forced into the eyes of the one receiving it, who, for a minute or two, is partially blinded. You can understand his fatal position. He cannot pause to clear his vision, for it comes at the crisis of the fight, and an instant halting means ignominious defeat, while to persevere, when he has only the partial use of his sight, makes his disadvantage hardly the less.

While the chief was savagely blinking, in order to enable him to see, the crowning taunt of all sounded in his ears:

"The Blackfoot cries like a pappoose. Does he wish to tread the Spirit Circle? Does he beg the Shawanoe to be merciful to him? If he whines for pity, let him sink on his knees and the Shawanoe will listen to his crying."

Chief Taggarak now lost the last shred of self-control. With a growl of crazy rage he bounded forward again, striking up and down and right and left with a blind, venomous energy that would have exhausted a giant.

Suddenly the wrist which held the whistling blade was seized in the steel-like fingers of Deerfoot's left hand. The grip was fearful, for the Shawanoe had now called upon his last reserve of strength, and the wrist was as if encased in a coil of iron. Then, with a peculiar twist of his hand, known only to himself, and resembling that remarkable system known under the name of jiu jitsu among the j.a.panese, who are the only ones that understand it in all its frightful perfection, he bent the hand of the chief remorselessly over and backward, until the palm gaped like the mouth of a dying fish and the knife dropped to the ground.

Deerfoot now had both wrists imprisoned. Taggarak gasped and panted and writhed, but could not twist himself loose. In the trial of strength the Shawanoe proved himself the superior. Great drops gathered on the forehead of the Blackfoot. His grin displayed every molar in his head, and the mouth, stretched to double its usual extent, had that horrible appearance when the s.p.a.ce between the lips at the corners is the same as in front and the expression is that of a raging wild beast.

Thus the two stood, their arms sawing up and down and from one side to another, without the Blackfoot being able to loosen the merciless grip.

He was panting, but no one could have detected any quickening of the respiration of the Shawanoe. His mouth was set and the light of battle flashed in his eyes. He did not speak or yield a point. The crisis had come and he knew he was the victor, just as he knew he would be from the first.

The Blackfoot swayed and his moccasins slid here and there over the ground from the contortion of limbs and body. Then he began pushing with might and main. His eyes were beginning to clear, but the perspiration dripped from the twisted coppery features. Reading his purpose, Deerfoot began pushing also. Neither yielded for a minute or two, and then the chief was slowly forced backward. There was no withstanding the tremendous power of the youth, who strove to the last ounce of his matchless strength.

Taggarak recoiled a step, then another, then began walking backward, and the next minute the walk became a trot on the part of both, the chief retreating and the Shawanoe forcing him faster and faster, though he struggled and resisted with the same panting desperation as at first.

He was still trotting backward with short, increasing steps when Deerfoot, never relaxing his grasp on the writhing wrists, thrust one heel behind his enemy, who tripped and went over. To insure due emphasis in the fall, Deerfoot made a leap as he was going and landed with both knees on the breast of the Blackfoot, who dropped with a thump that forced a gasp from his body and literally shook the earth.

George and Victor Shelton, in their excitement, sprang up from behind the rock that hid them. When Taggarak went over on his back, with Deerfoot bearing him down, Victor could restrain himself no longer.

s.n.a.t.c.hing his cap from his head he swung it aloft, and had opened his mouth to cheer when the slightly less excited brother clapped his hand over his lips.

"What do you mean, you idiot?"

"I want to cheer for Deerfoot! If I don't I'll bust!"

"You will get all the busting you want from him if he finds out we came here, after he told us to stay at home."

"By gracious! That's so; I forgot it. I'm glad you stopped me; we must keep mum. Look!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

DISCIPLINE IN THE RANKS.

The force of the impact and the crushing weight of the Shawanoe's body knocked Taggarak senseless for the moment. He lay panting, with eyes half closed and his countenance glistening with moisture.

Deerfoot, without removing his knees, watched the eyes until they slowly opened and glared upward with a dazed expression. The youth had removed his fingers from the wrist of the chief. He now bent his face close to his and asked:

"Who now is master--the Blackfoot or the Shawanoe? Whose G.o.d is the greater--Taggarak's or Deerfoot's?"

But the chieftain was game. He had put up a hurricane fight and had been conquered--conquered by a youth who carried no weapon in his hand, and who could have driven out his life at any moment during the progress of the battle. Instead of slaying his victim, the Shawanoe had put one indignity after another upon him.

"Let the Shawanoe take his knife and kill Taggarak! He does not wish to live!"

"So Taggarak would do with the Shawanoe, but so does not the Shawanoe, for he is a Christian," replied Deerfoot, rising from the prostrate body and stepping back for a couple of paces.

The Blackfoot was still bewildered. He lay motionless for a few seconds, staring at the youth looking serenely down upon him. The chief had been conquered, absolutely, crushingly and to the last degree humiliatingly; for, most amazing thing of all, his conqueror had refused to take his life, knowing that it would have been the other way had the Shawanoe suffered defeat.

And he who showed this unheard-of mercy professed to be a Christian!

What a strange religion to make a warrior act in that manner!

Slowly the iron-limbed chieftain climbed to his feet. He was not looking at the Shawanoe, who had folded his arms and was calmly watching him. Taggarak stood upright, turned his face away, took three steps and then paused. His head flirted about like a bird's and he fixed his burning eyes upon the dusky youth, still posed like a statue, with arms folded and on the alert for any treachery.

The Blackfoot gazed steadily into the eyes that met his own without flinching. He did not speak, but, looking away again, strode solemnly across the open s.p.a.ce, not pausing to pick up his weapon, and disappeared in the rocky wood.

Deerfoot remained motionless for several moments, gazing at the point where the other had pa.s.sed from sight. Then he reverently turned his eyes upward and murmured:

"I thank Thee, my Heavenly Father. Thou art kinder to Deerfoot than he deserves."

His next act was most peculiar. He paid no heed to the knife of Taggarak, but picked up his own. It had a keen edge, and instead of thrusting the weapon into his girdle he walked to the nearest undergrowth and began cutting a stick several feet in length and of nearly an inch's thickness at the b.u.t.t.

About this time George and Victor Shelton, from their hiding place, where they had stealthily watched everything, began to feel disturbed in mind.

"What do you suppose he is doing that for?" whispered Victor, peeping around the corner of the rock.

"I'm blessed if I know. He is tr.i.m.m.i.n.g off the twigs, so as to make the stick smooth."

"Do you suppose he saw us?"

"He couldn't. He has mighty sharp eyes, but he had no chance to look anywhere except in the face of Taggarak, and we haven't shown ourselves since he left."

"It's a queer performance anyway, and I don't feel--"

"Sh! He's looking this way."

The next moment both boys shivered, for, facing the rock which until then they were certain had hid them from view, the Shawanoe called:

"Let my brothers come here. Deerfoot wishes to speak to them."

"He saw us after all!" gasped Victor. "Let's run!"

"What good will that do? There's no getting away from him."

"He looks savage, George; he means business. Can't we combine and lick him if he tries to play smart with us?"