ow how he reproached
himself for his conduct. But we blame others for ills which we know are
caused by ourselves, and we chide unjustly those whom we love most,
knowing all the time how unjust we are, and that if we loved less the
reproof would not be given at all.

CHAPTER VII.

A MISHAP.

So Deerfoot the Shawanoe rode into the night, his heart aglow with
gratitude because of the success of his venture. Whirlwind was his and
he felt no misgiving over losing him again, and the steed himself would
fight against recapture.

The animal kept to a walk, for to go faster would have been imprudent
if not dangerous. He was not traveling over the course followed by
Deerfoot in threading his way to the Assiniboine camp. The road was
rough and strange to both horse and rider. All that the youth knew of a
certainty was that he was journeying southward. He could tell that much
by observing the stars that had served him so often as a compass.

Nor was there any necessity for haste. It was impossible for the
Assiniboines to trail him until the sun appeared in the sky, when
Whirlwind would easily leave the fleetest of their ponies out of sight.
So no fear remained in the heart of the dusky youth. Speaking now and
then to the animal, patting his neck and shoulder, or playfully
pinching the glossy skin, he rode onward for several hours. He was not
in need of sleep, and Whirlwind had been given nearly a whole day of
rest. It was no task therefore for either to maintain the journey.

Deerfoot's intention was to ride until midnight, when the two would
rest, resuming their journey at sunrise and pushing hard until they
reached the villages of the Blackfeet. It was late when the stallion
splashed through a small brook at the foot of a ridge, where Deerfoot
decided to dismount for the remainder of the night. Slipping from the
back of the horse he pressed his ear to the earth, but heard nothing to
cause him disquiet. If the Assiniboines were hunting for him they were
too far off to cause concern.

While Deerfoot was thus employed, Whirlwind stood as motionless as a
statue, waiting for his commands. The Shawanoe was in the act of rising
to his feet when the steed emitted the slightest possible sniff. He was
looking toward the top of the ridge immediately in front, standing like
a pointer dog, with his ears pricked forward and head high in air.

Glancing in the same direction, Deerfoot saw the figure of a buck that
had come up t