t time before, for a faint
odor of broiling venison or bison meat was in the air, and the signs
within the camp showed that a meal had been prepared and eaten.

The burning sticks were piled against the base of a tree more than two
feet in diameter and were burning so vigorously that the circle of
light reached well beyond the group and pierced the shadows among the
pines and cedars. A brief survey of the group left no doubt that they
were awaiting the arrival of friends, as they had been doing for hours
past, and might continue to do through the remaining night.

There was no reason why the Shawanoe should lose any time in surveying
the Assiniboines, for he felt no interest in them. He was surprised to
note that every one had a rifle, none being armed with the primitive
bow and arrows. He tarried only long enough to decide in his mind who
was the leader, and therefore the new proprietor of Whirlwind. Deerfoot
had no special enmity against him, for it was Amokeat, the Nez Perce
chieftain, who was responsible for the loss of the stallion.

The Shawanoe had straightened up and was silently withdrawing from his
advanced position, holding the sheltering tree between him and the camp
fire, when he was startled by a whinny from some point in the gloom
close at hand. Turning his head he caught the dim outlines of Whirlwind
making his way among the trees toward him. The sagacious stallion,
through that wonderfully acute sense of smell which his species often
show, had discovered the proximity of his master and had set out to
find him. The space between the two was so brief that Deerfoot had
hardly paused and looked behind him when the silken nose of Whirlwind
was thrust against his face, and after his old fashion he touched his
tongue to the cool cheek of his master and then affectionately rested
his head on his shoulder.

It was a critical situation, for the steed had already warned the
Assiniboines that something unusual was going on, but the delight and
gratitude of the Shawanoe were so deep that he could not deny himself
the pleasure of caressing his steed. He touched his lips to his nose,
patted his forehead and neck and murmured:

"Whirlwind! Deerfoot's heart is thankful! He is happy, for he has found
his best friend. No one shall part us again!"

But in that joyful moment the delicate situation could not be
forgotten. Instead of leaping upon the back of the horse where the
trees and limbs would interfere with a rap