ought to increase for a dozen or more years to come.

The American Indian, as a rule, does not show excessive muscular
development. Arms and legs are wanting in those ridged bunches of sinew
which often bulge out all over our athletes. And yet more than one red
man has displayed prodigious strength. Deerfoot believed he was
stronger than Taggarak, despite his own light, graceful figure, which
made him a dusky Adonis.

He knew that possibly he was mistaken in this respect, but there could
be no doubt on another point: he was much quicker of movement than the
iron-limbed Taggarak. The open space would give full freedom to both,
and this quickness would not be hampered at all during the fight
between them. Moreover, Deerfoot was an unerring judge of distance, and
knew on the instant when to dodge and when to strike. Therefore he
feared not, but with that old Adamic strain in his nature, really
yearned for the battle.

It has long been the custom of Indians, when facing each other in
mortal strife, to resort to taunts and insults. If a foe can be driven
into anger, while his tormentor keeps cool, the latter has the victory
half won. Deerfoot could not stifle a feeling of resentment over the
contemptuous behavior of Taggarak toward him. Instead of contenting
himself with merely challenging the Shawanoe to mortal combat, he sent
him word that all that was left for him to do was to choose between two
methods of shuffling off the mortal coil. It was to be the Spirit
Circle or by the knife of the Blackfoot. This scornful treatment of the
youth angered him, and it was one of the reasons why he decided to
adopt a policy which in other circumstances he would have considered
beneath a true warrior.

CHAPTER XVII.

A MEMORABLE DUEL.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe, before entering the elevated wooded portion to
the east of the bleak plain that had been the scene of his triumphs the
day before, paused and carefully scrutinized all that lay within his
field of vision. He was not altogether free from a shadowy suspicion
that Taggarak would resort to treachery, though for reasons named by
Mul-tal-la it was improbable. Despite the care the youth had used, he
feared that rumors of the coming fight had got abroad, and some of the
curious might brave the wrath of their chief for the sake of viewing
the combat. That which Deerfoot saw, or rather failed to see, convinced
him that both fears were unfounded.

He recalled too clearly the