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"The Shawanoes are no braver than the Blackfeet, but there is none among them like Deerfoot, nor can his equal be found in all the world." Among those who doubted the truth of the words of the messengers were several aspiring bucks, who secretly resolved never to admit the superiority of the Shawanoe youth in any of the respects named until such superiority had been proved before their eyes.
He did not see it, but he saw something else, which caused him almost as much displeasure. As he turned toward a large boulder, half hidden by bushes, the upper part of a head dropped down out of sight. Seen only for an instant, the Shawanoe recognized the owner as Victor Shelton, and knew his brother was with him.
"If it's all the same to ye, I'll be glad to give that purty hand of yours an owld-fashioned shake, such as a fellow sometimes gits when he catches the chills an' faver." Deerfoot looked at the jolly lad with an odd expression, as he gave him his hand, which, I need not say, was shaken with enthusiasm. The young Shawanoe smiled in his own shadowy way and returned the pressure warmly.
The waiting Shawanoe heard the sound of hoofs, and a minute later saw the form of the stallion as he galloped up and paused with his nose thrust forward, asking for another caress. He received it and in his mute way expressed his own pleasure at being with his master again. The danger was not yet over, and the Shawanoe deferred further petting until the opportunity was more fitting.
Passing him over his hip Terry gave Deerfoot such a violent fling that a pang of fear shot through him, lest he had broken the Shawanoe's neck; but though he shot headlong out of the grasp of the Irish lad, the Shawanoe landed lightly on his feet and instantly leaped back and closed with Terry again.
His weapon was still firm in his hand, and he moved forward again, taking shorter and more stealthy steps. He crouched as if gathering his muscles for a leap, while the Shawanoe contemptuously watched him, alert and observant as a cat. Six feet away the chief halted. Deerfoot did not stir.
"I told mine fader I didn't know not any nodings apout it, and he whipped me 'cause I didn't know vot I did know, and, when Deerfoot brought pack de blanket next day, den he knows dat I lied and he whipped some more as nefer pefore." Jack Carleton threw back his bead and laughed, though he took care that he made little noise in doing so; but the face of the Shawanoe was grave.
The point was where the wood was more open, so that the moonlight which found its way among the limbs above showed their forms quite plainly. More than that, enough of their words were audible to enable the listening Shawanoe, who had crept dangerously near, to catch their meaning. The Winnebagos turned off at almost a right angle and left the trail behind them.
The top was rocky and precipitous, and the trees and vegetation were so scarce that the rugged baldness could be seen a long ways through the woods. "The Sauk will hunt from there to there," said the Shawanoe, indicating a spot a quarter of a mile to the south, and pointing by the sweep of his arm to another almost opposite where they stood.
The afternoon was drawing to a close, and, but for the fire that was kept burning, it would have been dark within the lodge. They prepared their meal, but when Deerfoot was invited to eat he shook his head, rose to his feet and passed out. The Shawanoe had no more time than to straighten up in the open air when he was face to face with Mul-tal-la, who was on his way to see him.
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