sed of warriors, squaws, children and pappooses,
evidently migrating to a new home. They had eight or ten scraggly
ponies, each walking between two poles that served as shafts and
extended so far to the rear that they dragged on the ground. Thus they
served as runners or crude sleds. Held in place by thongs and
crosspieces, the primitive wagon gave a resting place for tired squaws
and children, their lazy husbands, or the furs and luggage of the
party. The primitive contrivances left a peculiar trail.

The Indians numbered perhaps fifty or three score, and had nothing
attractive in their slouching, untidy appearance, which suggested so
many dusky tramps on their way to quarters that offered a better
opportunity for begging. Deerfoot had no wish to gain a closer
acquaintance and kept well to the south, so as to be sure of passing
without mingling with the company. As the ground was favorable he put
Whirlwind at a moderate gallop.

The dusky strangers showed their keenness of vision by observing the
stranger almost as soon as he descried them. He saw several of the
warriors who were on foot point toward him. They seemed to expect
Deerfoot to come forward, but, when he did not do so, showed no further
interest in him.

The wish to keep clear of the uninviting throng caused the youth to
ride on until the gathering gloom told him night was at hand. He then
saw he had come to another place that had served as a camp for those
who had traveled the way before him. There were the little stream of
icy water, the rank grass, the scattered undergrowth and the boulders
and rocks of every size and variety.

The air was so chilly that Deerfoot began gathering wood for a fire,
though he had nothing in the nature of food for an evening meal. I have
shown, however, that that was a matter of small account to him. There
was more than enough for Whirlwind, who, leaving his master to himself,
began edging up the pass, cropping the choicest grass on the way. The
Shawanoe had to grope in many places before he collected enough fuel.
He heaped a part against the cold bare face of the rock, several paces
from the winding brook, whose waters were not only clear, but of the
temperature of ice itself.

With his usual deftness, Deerfoot soon had the fire blazing. He had not
seen living man or animal since his sight of the migrating Indians, and
he did not think it likely he would meet any before morning. The past
day and night had been so stirri