auty of the whole proceeding was that when
Deerfoot took the handsome weapon, he vanquished both; in fact he did it
with the gun belonging to Jack Carleton.

Though the young Shawanoe clung to his bow, it was clear to his
companions that he admired the new piece. He turned it over and examined
every part, as though it possessed a special attraction.

"Deerfoot," said Jack, pinching his arm, "you could beat William Tell
himself, if he were living, with the bow, but what's the use of talking?
It can't compare with the rifle and you know it. Just because a gun of
yours once flashed in the pan, you threw it away and took up the bow
again, but it was a mistake, all the same."

"One of these days Deerfoot may use the rifle," he answered, as if
talking to himself, "but not yet--not yet."

Little did he suspect how close he was to the crisis which would lead
him to a decision on that question.

Toward the close of the three days referred to, the trio were in what is
to-day the southwestern corner of Missouri. Had the time been a hundred
years later, they would have had to go but a short distance to cross the
border line into Kansas.

A remarkable feature of their journey to that point, was the fact that,
while making the distance, they had not seen a single person besides
themselves. Not once, when they climbed a tree or elevation and
carefully scanned the country, did they catch sight of the smoke of a
solitary camp-fire creeping upward toward the blue sky. They heard the
crack of no gun beside their own, and the keen eyes which glanced to the
right and left, as they trod the endless wilderness, failed to detect
the figure of the stealthily moving warrior.

This was singular, for there were plenty of Indians at that day west of
the Mississippi, and it would be hard to find a section through which
such a long journey could be made without coming upon red men. But at
the end of the three days, our friends could not complain that there was
any lack of dusky strangers.

It was near the middle of the afternoon, when finding themselves in a
dense portion of the wood, on a considerable elevation, they decided to
"take another observation". To Jack Carleton it looked as if they were
engaged on a hopeless errand, and, but for his unbounded faith in
Deerfoot, he would have turned back long before in despair; it would be
more proper indeed to say, that he never would have entered alone on
such an enterprise.

There was no need