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HOME > Classical Novels > The Hunters of the Ozark > CHAPTER XX.ANOTHER NIGHT VISITOR.
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CHAPTER XX.ANOTHER NIGHT VISITOR.
 Deerfoot the Shawanoe was convinced of one thing—the Wolf would trouble him no further that night. What he might do in the future must be left for the future to tell. Whether the few words that he had dropped should prove the good seed of which I have spoken, or whether they should be choked up by thorns, not even the Wolf himself could tell.  
The young showed his convictions by flinging some wood on the fire, so that its blaze filled the , and preparing for sleep. He first sat down and pulled out the knife of the Wolf, whose blade took on an additional gleam from the it had received in being forced into the flinty earth. He examined it with no little curiosity, though it was similar to his own.
 
A glance, however, showed that it was an inch or two longer. It was straight and oval-shaped, the blade not quite two inches wide, with a handle that had been cut from a deer's horn and fitted with no slight skill. Whether it was the product of or was the work of some cutler of the Caucasian race could only be guessed, the matter really not being worth the trouble of guessing. Its two edges and the point were very sharp. Deerfoot having laid aside his gun, grasped the blade in his left hand and circled it through the air like a swordsman at play. He was so pleased with it that he to keep it. He would not throw away the one that had served him so well, but would present it to Fred Linden, while he retained the one with which he was sure he could do better work.
 
It was singular that while the Shawanoe was turning the weapon over in his hand, and examining it with so much interest, that the occasion for its use should come, but so it was.
 
He was on the point of shoving it in behind his belt and lying down to sleep, when a movement of the bushes outside was heard. It was so distinct indeed that he knew it was not caused by a person.
 
The was accompanied by a scratching sound and low . Turning his head, he saw an immense wolf at the entrance of the cavern, his whole figure revealed in the firelight. With his parted and his form , he was a formidable creature, before which almost any one would have . He would have advanced straight to an attack upon the young warrior but for the fire which partly interposed. Even as it was, he seemed making ready to leap at the throat of the youth, who was sitting on the blanket, looking coolly at him.
 
It would have been the easiest matter in the world for Deerfoot to catch up his gun and shoot him dead, but he chose to do otherwise. Drawing one of the embers by the end that was not burning, he held it before him in his right hand, and, grasping the knife in his left, ran lightly toward him, as though he meant to jam it into his eyes.
 
The bravest animal can not stand unmoved198 before such an attack, and the namesake of the human enemy whisked about and out of the cavern with the Shawanoe close behind him. The former bounded a half dozen steps, pausing on the very spot where the hostile warrior was first seen, and facing about, as if to observe whether his dare follow him any further. But Deerfoot had him now where he wished, and he flung the torch aside among the undergrowth, where it lay smoking for a few minutes before it went out.
 
The fierce animal must have been of the opinion that he too had his where he wanted him, for, without the least , he uttered a growl and made two leaps straight at him. The first carried him a little more than half the intervening distance, and the second was meant to bear Deerfoot to the earth.
 
The young warrior, however, stepped lightly to one side, so that the wolf missed him altogether, and would have been forced to wheel about and make a second attack had the chance been given him, but at the instant it landed, the left hand, grasping the long, keen knife, shot forward with great force and lightning-like swiftness, and was buried to the hilt in the throat of the .
 
It was a blow as effective as a ball could have been, for the knife the seat of life in twain, and the beast rolled over on the earth dead, almost before it could emit a single of agony.
 
Deerfoot stood a moment surveying the carcass before him, and then, with no more excitement than he would have shown in speaking to Fred or Terry, he said: "'Tis a good weapon, and will serve Deerfoot well."
 
Then he walked to the tiny , carefully washed the gleaming blade, shoved it behind his belt, where it was held in place without the sheath that clasped the other, and walked back to the cavern. The boys had not been disturbed by the outcry of the wolf, and Deerfoot, throwing some more wood on the flames, lay down on the blanket, drew it partly about him, and in ten minutes was asleep, not opening his eyes again until the light of morning streamed into the cavern and only a few
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