ernor of Indiana Territory, and afterward President of the
United States. It was he who declared, when a Senator in Washington,
that he looked upon the young Shawanoe as the greatest Indian in many
respects that ever lived, with natural abilities superior to those of
the renowned Tecumseh, who, nevertheless, holds the most exalted
position in the estimate of those that came after him.

Daniel Boone, the renowned pioneer, regarded the youth highly, while
Simon Kenton, himself one of the best judges of men, was as unstinted
in his praise as Governor Harrison. The acceptance of Christianity by
this remarkable youth shut out forever the political fame and power
that he would have assuredly won had he refused the true faith and been
an Indian in his traits, tastes and ambitions. But the sweet,
soul-satisfying happiness that was always his he would not have
exchanged for the highest honors the world can give.

[Illustration: Deerfoot Lost in Reverie by the Camp Fire.]

The musings of Deerfoot took a daintier, softer, tenderer tint. His
thoughts flew across the thousands of miles of forest, river, mountain
and prairie to one whose image was never absent from his heart, and
whom he hoped to see again and all in good time call _wife_. He talked
to none of her, for the theme was too sacred to be shared with another,
but next to his religion it was the sweetest, dearest consolation of
his life.

"In the rainbow-tinted forest,
Where the sleepy waters flow,--
Roamed I with a dark-haired maiden,
In an autumn long ago;
And her dimpled hand was resting
Timidly within mine own,
And her voice to mine replying,
In a whispered undertone."

CHAPTER X.

IN THE BLACKFOOT COUNTRY.

One keen, sunny afternoon in autumn, a certain Indian youth executed a
war dance among the foothills to the east of the Rocky Mountains. The
only spectator of the fantastic performance was a superb black
stallion, who, so far as can be judged, found a good deal of
entertainment in the sight. It was long before the days of kodaks and
their snapshots, which add so much to our enjoyment of everyday
incidents.

Although Deerfoot did not waste any time, it took him a fortnight to
thread his way through that immense range which ribs the western part
of our continent. After using the last of the crimson berries that
benefited his sprain so much, he spent several hours in hunting for the
herb; but search high and