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"Deerfoot thanks his brothers, but there is nothing more he wishes. He has his rifle, his powder horn, his bullet pouch, his flint and steel and his hunting knife. Anything more would be a burden, but his heart is warm with gratitude to his brothers." At this point in the conversation, Mul-tal-la returned with news of what he had learned by his inquiries among the Nez Perces.
But ammunition was used sparingly, for it necessitated long and expensive journeys through the mountains to renew the supply. You remember that Mul-tal-la left home with only his bow and arrow.
"See here, Mul-tal-la," he said, excitedly; "do you tell us that the chief Taggarak makes the condition that he and Deerfoot are each to use only his knife as a weapon?" The Blackfoot gravely nodded his head. "And that neither is to have a friend with him?" "So Taggarak wills." "That isn't the way people fight duels. George and I must be on hand when Deerfoot gets into a scrape like that."
Because of the circuitous course taken by George and Victor Shelton, Mul-tal-la saw nothing of them and never learned of the humorous appendix to the tragedy. The sight of the Shawanoe returning told who was victor, and a few brief words between the two, as they met, made known that he had spared the life of the chief, who slunk silently off in the solitude, no one but himself knew whither.
The brothers talked the question over many times. It was never referred to between them and Mul-tal-la, for the Blackfoot could give them no help, and the final solution of the problem must be reached by Deerfoot himself. Our young friends joined as earnestly in the games, the fishing and hunting as ever, and no one looking upon them would have dreamed that they suffered any discomfort of mind.
He was partly reclining on one elbow and gazing into the fire, as if sunk in meditation. The boys knew the meaning of his attitude and air; he was dissatisfied with what had occurred that day. "By gracious!" said Victor; "if I could do what you did, Deerfoot, I'd be so proud I wouldn't speak to George or Mul-tal-la or you; and yet you don't seem to feel a bit stuck up.
In making the request, Mul-tal-la the Blackfoot spoke for others. Without hesitation the Shawanoe replied that he would do as desired. He felt it was his duty, and he was the last one to shrink. Near the middle of the primitive settlement was a structure known as the "Big Lodge." It was of the simplest build, being some forty feet in length by about half that width.
What is the name of his chief?" "He told me it was Taggarak." "He is the great war chief of the Blackfeet. There is no sachem or chief like him. His arm is powerful and has slain many Assiniboines and Nez Perces and Shoshones." "The words of my brothers were told to me long ago by Mul-tal-la. I am sure they are true. Where shall I seek Taggarak?" The Blackfoot pointed to the northwest.
When within a hundred yards of his home, which remained closed as if deserted, Mul-tal-la turned into the tepee where dwelt the parents of the companion who had been buried hundreds of miles away. The father sat on a pile of furs at one side of the lodge, stolidly smoking his pipe. His squaw was kneeling in front of the burning wood and trying to blow it into a blaze.
"The Shawanoe may fall and never see his paleface brothers again." "We have no fear of that," airily replied George. The next question of Taggarak was as startling as unexpected: "Does the Shawanoe teach the religion of the red men or that of the palefaces?" The brothers looked significantly at each other as Mul-tal-la translated these words, but Victor scarcely hesitated in his reply.
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