ed upon solid earth.
So he overcame the powerful current and emerged almost directly
opposite the point where he had entered. You will remember that in
approaching the stream he left the trail some time before, but he knew
it was not far off, and doubtless would have led him to a ford. That he
would not dally long enough to hunt out the more convenient crossing
place was another illustration of Deerfoot's indifference to his own
comfort. What though his garments were dripping when he stepped upon
solid earth again, and the air was almost wintry in its chill, he cared
naught. The exercise threw his frame into a glow and the moisture
gradually left his clothing.

A few miles farther and the Shawanoe solved one question over which he
had been speculating. In the distance he caught sight of a party of
horsemen approaching from the direction of the camp whose smoke he had
noticed hours before. They were no more than two or three miles
distant, and when first seen were coming almost in a direct line for
Deerfoot.

The first sight was that of a single horseman, who had ridden up the
farther side of a slope, and came into view as he neared the top.
Without pausing, he began the descent, and was followed by others, all
in single file, until seventeen rode into the field of vision. Before
Deerfoot brought his glass into use he had recognized the horsemen as
Nez Perces. They were returning from their expedition, and if the
statement of the number that had left home was correct, had lost at
least three.

The spyglass disclosed the chieftain Amokeat to the Shawanoe, who, with
his horse on a walk, was riding at the head of the procession. The
instrument revealed another significant fact:

Neither Amokeat nor any of his warriors was mounted on Whirlwind.

Deerfoot had to struggle to restrain his indignation. Had he been
within reach of Amokeat at that moment, it is not unlikely he would
have dragged him from his horse and given him a lesson he could never
forget. The very thing the Shawanoe had feared from the first had
occurred: the stallion was either stolen or dead.

But as Deerfoot advanced to meet the party, who soon observed and
identified him, he pulled himself together. It would have taken one who
knew him intimately, like Simon Kenton, or George or Victor Shelton, to
read in the slightly pale face and peculiar gleam of the dark eyes the
evidence of the emotion that the Shawanoe held well under control.

It was in the