Spotted Deer

SPOTTED DEER

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Elmer Russell Gregor

MILK PRESS

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Copyright © 2016 by Elmer Russell Gregor

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

AUTHOR OF THE WHITE WOLF, THE WAR TRAIL, RUNNING FOX, ETC.: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK, 1924, LONDON: COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY: PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.: PERHAPS SOME SHAWNEES ARE HIDING OVER THERE.

CHAPTER I: THE CRY OF THE LOON

CHAPTER II: A NIGHT OF ANXIETY

CHAPTER III: CAPTURED

CHAPTER IV: A WILY CAPTIVE

CHAPTER V: THE SHAWNEE CAMP

CHAPTER VI: A TRYING ORDEAL

CHAPTER VII: THE MYSTERY WOMAN

CHAPTER VIII: THE ALARM

CHAPTER IX: AWAY ON THE SEARCH

CHAPTER X: THE ABANDONED CANOE

CHAPTER XI: A COUNCIL OF WAR

CHAPTER XII: ON THE TRAIL

CHAPTER XIII: A STRANGE ALLY

CHAPTER XIV: WAITING AND WATCHING

CHAPTER XV: AN EASY VICTORY

CHAPTER XVI: A DARING RUSE

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII: SHAWNEE TREACHERY

CHAPTER XIX: SURROUNDED

CHAPTER XX: A TIMELY RESCUE

Spotted Deer

By

Elmer Russell Gregor

Spotted Deer

Published by Milk Press

New York City, NY

First published circa 1954

Copyright © Milk Press, 2015

All rights reserved

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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AUTHOR OF THE WHITE WOLF, THE WAR TRAIL, RUNNING FOX, ETC.: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK, 1924, LONDON: COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY: PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.: PERHAPS SOME SHAWNEES ARE HIDING OVER THERE.

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CHAPTER I: THE CRY OF THE LOON

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SPOTTED DEER WAS RETURNING TO the Delaware village from a hunting expedition. He was in high spirits for he had been most successful. His canoe contained the carcass of a fat young buck, a brace of geese and several grouse. Spotted Deer sang softly to himself. It was a simple song of thanks to Getanittowit, the Great One.

Listen, Getanittowit, I am singing about you. Getanittowit has filled my canoe with meat. Getanittowit has made me a great hunter. O Getanittowit, I feel good about it.

It was a glorious day in early autumn. The soft balmy air was perfumed with the invigorating fragrance of the pines. The water sparkled in the sunshine. A smoky blue haze hung between the hills. The forest blazed with color. Spotted Deer looked about him with delight. A red-tail hawk circled slowly above his head. A woodpecker drummed its challenge upon a dead pine. Spotted Deer smiled at the sound as he recalled an occasion when his friend Running Fox had used it as a signal to fool his foes. Lost in reverie, Spotted Deer ceased paddling to watch the great black and white woodpecker hammering noisily on a bleached limb of the pine. Having found no evidence of foes in the Delaware hunting grounds, the young warrior felt secure.

Hi, Papaches, you are making a big noise up there, he laughed, as he shook his bow at the bird.

The next moment he grew silent and alert. The call of Quiquingus, the loon, sounded somewhere behind him. Spotted Deer looked anxiously up the river. There was something about the call which made him suspicious. He searched the water with great care, but saw nothing of the loon. He became uneasy. Several disturbing questions rose in his mind. Was the call false? Was it a signal from his foes? Had he been discovered?

The latter possibility was alarming as he was more than a day’s journey from the Delaware camp. Spotted Deer was undecided as to just what he should do. Many moments passed while he watched anxiously for the loon. The woodpecker had flown. The forest was silent. Spotted Deer hoped that the cry would be repeated. When he failed to hear it, his suspicions grew stronger. He wondered if some sharp-eyed scout were watching from the edge of the forest. The thought made him cautious. He paddled into the center of the river, where he was a long bow-shot from either shore. Then for a long time he waited and watched. However, as he neither saw nor heard anything further of the loon, he finally determined to continue on his way.

Spotted Deer had gone only a short distance when the call was repeated. Stopping his canoe, he again searched the water. The mysterious cry seemed to have come from somewhere along the west shore of the river—the side on which he had seen the woodpecker. Spotted Deer examined the shadows with infinite care, but his efforts were futile. The loon was nowhere in sight. His failure to discover it, and the significant fact that the call had been repeated when he started down the river, increased his uneasiness. He was almost convinced that the cry was counterfeit. Still he wished to be sure. He waited some time, watching for the conspicuous white breast of Quiquingus, the Laugher.

It is not Quiquingus, he declared, at last.

Having decided that the call was an imitation, Spotted Deer wondered why the one who had made it had risked disclosing his hiding place. In a moment the truth flashed through his mind. He believed the call had been a signal to announce his approach to some one farther down the river. The thought caused him grave concern. He feared that he had blundered into a perilous predicament.

I must watch out, Spotted Deer murmured, uneasily.

He permitted the canoe to drift slowly with the water while he meditated upon a plan of action. Feeling quite certain that he had encountered a company of his foes, his chief concern was to learn if they had canoes. In that event, he believed he would be in considerable peril. If, however, his enemies were hunting through the woods on foot, he believed there was little to fear while he kept to the middle of the river.

I will go ahead, he said.

The sun had disappeared. Twilight had fallen upon the woods. Long black shadows swept over the water. The day was far spent. Spotted Deer watched closely along the edge of the timber. He knew that it would be easy to blunder past a canoe concealed in the shadows near the shore. Several times he was deceived by half-submerged trunks of fallen trees which in the baffling twilight resembled canoes. Then, as he paddled slowly around an abrupt turn in the river, he suddenly discovered two canoes crossing directly ahead of him. Each canoe contained two paddlers. They were a considerable distance away, but as Spotted Deer was exposed in the center of the river he had little doubt that he had been seen. The actions of the distant canoemen confirmed his fears. They had ceased paddling and were looking steadily toward him. In the meantime the Delaware had turned his canoe into a stretch of quiet water to avoid drifting toward the strangers. They showed no inclination to approach, and soon disappeared into the shadows along the west side of the river.

Spotted Deer suspected a trap. He feared that other canoemen were concealed along the opposite side of the river. Under those circumstances it seemed folly to venture ahead before darkness came to shield him. Then he suddenly realized that it might be equally dangerous to loiter. He believed that other foes were somewhere behind him, and he feared that they had canoes. In that event they might sweep around the river at any moment and he would find himself trapped between his enemies. The thought was alarming. It roused him to action. He turned about and paddled slowly up the river. Keeping well within the shadows from the forest, he soon passed around the turn which hid him from his foes. At that moment the melancholy wail of Gokhos, the owl, sounded behind him. He knew at once that it was a signal from the canoemen.

I am in danger, Spotted Deer said, softly.

He feared that the warriors whom he had discovered would follow him, and that other foes might come down the river in response to the signal. Aware of his peril, Spotted Deer ceased paddling and stared anxiously into the shadows. The sunset glow had faded from the sky. The forest was dark. Night was closing down. However, a narrow trail of daylight still lingered in the middle of the river. Spotted Deer looked upon it with misgiving. It was a barrier which he feared to cross.

Then he again heard the cry of Gokhos, the owl. It still came from down the river, and seemed no nearer than it was before. Spotted Deer was perplexed. Had the canoemen failed to follow him? It seemed most unlikely. He became suspicious. Perhaps his foes were attempting some clever stratagem to quiet his fears. He wondered if the call had been sounded to mislead him into believing himself free from pursuit while his enemies approached cautiously through the shadows. He watched closely. He wondered why the signals brought no response. What had become of the concealed scout who had imitated the cry of the loon? Spotted Deer began to think. Had he been deceived? Had Quiquingus himself uttered that cry? Spotted Deer scoffed at the idea. He felt sure that he would have discovered the bird if it had been anywhere within sight.

No, no, it was not Quiquingus, he declared, emphatically.

A moment afterward he heard the call of Gokhos repeated farther up the river. His suspicions were confirmed. He realized that he was between his foes.

Quiquingus has changed to Gokhos, he said, soberly. I must be cautious.

CHAPTER II: A NIGHT OF ANXIETY

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AS THE SIGNALS WERE NOT repeated, Spotted Deer feared that his foes were approaching each other with the hope of trapping him between them. He realized that he must act quickly. For a moment only he studied his predicament. If he attempted to dash down the river, the odds were against him. He felt certain that there were two of his foes in each canoe, and he also knew that the weight of the game in his own canoe would be a serious handicap to his speed. It seemed folly, therefore, to attempt an open race for safety. Still, he knew that if he remained upon the water there would be little chance of avoiding his foes. There seemed but one thing to do, and that was to hide in the woods until the canoemen passed. He resolved to try the ruse.

Night had fallen, and forest and river were cloaked in darkness. Aware that his foes might have come within bow-shot, Spotted Deer realized that each moment was precious. Turning toward the shore he maneuvered the canoe with rare skill. It glided forward as easily and silently as a drifting leaf until Spotted Deer stopped it at the edge of the bushes. He tested the depth of the water with his paddle. It was shallow. He waited a moment or so, listening for a warning of danger. All was still. Feeling secure, Spotted Deer stepped from the canoe and waded toward the shore. As he left the water, he again stopped to listen. He heard a splash a short distance below him. His heart beat wildly. He believed that his foes were close at hand. There seemed little chance of concealing the canoe before they found him. He listened in breathless suspense. In a few moments he heard another splash. This time it gave him relief. He had recognized it as the signal of Amoch, the beaver, slapping the water with his great broad tail.

Amoch, Spotted Deer murmured, softly.

He moved cautiously along the edge of the woods until he found an opening in the undergrowth. Then he drew the bow of the canoe from the water. Stooping, he seized the fore legs of the buck and dragged it from the canoe. It was a difficult task as the deer was heavy and Spotted Deer feared to make a sound. When the buck was safely on the ground, he drew the canoe into the bushes. Then he crouched behind it to watch and listen for the approach of his foes.

If his enemies passed, Spotted Deer planned to launch his canoe and slip noiselessly down the river. However, he disliked to abandon the deer. It seemed like presenting it to his foes. The idea irritated him. For an instant he determined to take it. Then he suddenly realized the folly of placing himself at a disadvantage.

Perhaps they will not find it, he told himself, comfortingly.

At that moment he heard a low, indistinct sound on the water. He listened. Long, anxious moments passed. The silence was unbroken. Spotted Deer wondered if he had been deceived. He waited in trying suspense to learn if his fears were real.

There is no one there, he said, finally.

Then the call of Gokhos, the owl, sounded directly before his hiding place. It was low, and soft, and querulous, and he realized why it had seemed so far away when he heard it before. He listened anxiously for the sound of voices, but the signal was followed by silence. Spotted Deer watched eagerly for the canoe, but it was hidden in the darkness. He wondered if it had passed. He listened for the slightest clew, but heard nothing which would tell him what he wished to know. He waited impatiently for an answer to the call. Many moments passed before he heard it. At last it echoed weirdly across the water. Spotted Deer tried to locate it. He decided that it came from