When the visitors arrived Taggarak was alone, seated at one side of the large apartment, with a small fire burning in its usual place. His royal consort and two children were excluded from the conference.

The war chief was about forty years of age, and his face showed him to be a man of exceptional ability and mental strength. It was easy to understand the iron will with which he ruled the turbulent and warlike Blackfeet. He had thrown aside his blanket and sat in a close-fitting shirt of deerskin, with girdle at the waist, and with leggings and moccasins.

Taggarak was not a handsome Indian, but he was of striking mien. His long black hair, without ornament of any kind, dangled about his shoulders; his mouth was broad; his nose well formed; his eyes black and piercing, rather small, and seemed to glitter with fire from under his eyebrows. His cheek-bones were prominent, the chin square and firm, and the expression of the countenance stern to the last degree. Wrinkles already showed in his low, wide forehead and at the corners of his eyes. There were two scars on one cheek, and his arms and body, had they been uncovered, would have revealed many more, for Taggarak was a mighty warrior, who had beaten down many foes in single combat, and had eagerly risked his life in resisting the desperate raids made against his tribe, or in pushing invasions among others of his own race. Unlike many of his own people, he never was vain enough to wear the scalp-lock, nor did he disfigure his face with paint. When he went upon the warpath his enemies speedily found it out, without any such childish notices.

Mul-tal-la led the way into the imperial wigwam, the brothers closely following. The three respectfully saluted the chief, who looked keenly at them as they entered, and, without returning their greeting, pointed to a pile of furs on the farther side of the lodge, where the callers seated themselves, removed their caps, and awaited the pleasure of the great man.



You will be better pleased with a free translation of the conversation, remembering that Mul-tal-la acted as the mouthpiece of the chief and the boys, though the latter had picked up enough knowledge of the tongue to catch the meaning of a good many of the words spoken by Taggarak, who, of course, knew nothing of English.

"My sons have come a long way from the land of the rising sun. Why did they leave their friends to make so long a journey?"

"We loved Mul-tal-la, and wished to look upon the great and good chieftain Taggarak, of whom Mul-tal-la said many words of praise."

This reply was made by Victor, and was duly filtrated through the interpreter, who was pleased with the words so flattering to himself. It must be admitted that when Victor tried his hand he showed himself a promising student of diplomacy.

George thought it well to add his answer:

"Hunters told us of the great land that lay toward the setting sun, and we longed to look upon it, as Mul-tal-la and his friend longed to look upon the country where we make our home."

"When do my sons go back to their dwelling place?"

"The snows will be deep in the mountains for many moons; the palefaces will perish if they try to labor through them. They will wait till the sun melts the snows, and the buds come on the trees and the singing of the birds trembles in the air. They will be glad to do this if the great Taggarak is not displeased to have them stay among his people."

This had the sound of a hint for an invitation. Being such, however, it failed of its purpose, for the chieftain ignored it. Perhaps he did not think it worth the trouble to tell the youths they were welcome; that was to be assumed from the hospitality already shown them.

"Taggarak has heard of a wonderful warrior who came from the land of the rising sun. Where is he?"

"He has a horse that he loved, which was lost, and he is searching for him."

"There are many horses among the Blackfeet; he could have one of them."

"But there is none like the black stallion of Deerfoot."

"Where did the warrior get him!"

"The stallion was the leader of a drove of wild horses. Deerfoot sought him out and conquered him without saddle or bridle or the help of anyone."

This statement seemed so incredible that Mul-tal-la felt it necessary to add his own statement that the words of the pale-faced lad were true, for he had seen the exploit of the Shawanoe with his own eyes. Even then it is to be feared the chieftain refused to believe the story.

"Are all the Shawanoes like this warrior!"

"There is none like him," was the reply of Victor Shelton, whose full answer was faithfully translated to Chief Taggarak. "The Shawanoes, nor Wyandots, nor Chippewas, nor Nez Perces, nor Shoshones, nor Assiniboines, nor any tribe are as great as the Blackfeet. Had Deerfoot been a member of any of them, he would have been the greatest among them all, with the exception of the mighty Taggarak, whom no one can equal."

Ah, but this youth from the Buckeye State was sly. He looked at the rigid coppery countenance of the chieftain as these words were interpreted to him. The youth thought he detected a sparkle of the small black eyes, but I fear it was only fancy.

"Why is he called Deerfoot?"

"The palefaces gave him that name because no deer can run as fast as he."

"My sons speak with a double tongue," said the chief, frowning.

"They might in the presence of anyone but Taggarak, but to him they use only a single tongue. Let the great chieftain wait and see Deerfoot for himself."

Unquestionably Victor was advancing fast along the path of diplomacy.

"When will the Shawanoe be with the Blackfeet, who wait to welcome him?"

"We hope not many suns will set before he comes; but he has had a long way to journey, and may have to slay other warriors that are not willing to let Deerfoot have his steed."

"The Shawanoe may fall and never see his paleface brothers again."

"We have no fear of that," airily replied George. The next question of Taggarak was as startling as unexpected:

"Does the Shawanoe teach the religion of the red men or that of the palefaces?"

The brothers looked significantly at each other as Mul-tal-la translated these words, but Victor scarcely hesitated in his reply.

"Deerfoot teaches the religion that he believes is true. It is of a Great Spirit, who wishes his children to live in friendship with one another; not to make war; to show mercy to all; to be forgiving and do what they can to make other people happy. Such is the wish of the Great Spirit. Deerfoot lives according to that faith, and we believe in it, and try to do as he does."

The chief looked steadily in the face of the youth while he was speaking, though he did not understand a syllable until it was properly rendered by Mul-tal-la. Victor gazed as unflinchingly into the fierce countenance before him, while uttering the noble sentiments. His self-respect forbade any shrinking on his part when such a question was put to him. As the interpreter waited for him to finish, Victor added:

"Tell him exactly what I said."

"And that the answer is from both of us," added George.

Mul-tal-la obeyed, but carefully refrained from saying that he, too, had accepted the new religion, and that the warriors who acted as messengers were pondering over it, and had spoken to some of their comrades on the momentous theme. It is not for us to censure the red man if he was cautious, for, if need be, he was ready to die for the truth.

The thin lips of Taggarak curled with scorn when he caught the full meaning of the reply of the youth. His patience was gone.

"The Shawanoe does not belong to the tribe of Taggarak. My sons, the palefaces, are of another race; they may believe any lies they choose, for it is naught to Taggarak. But none of Taggarak's people shall believe it! And if the Shawanoe seeks to turn them from the faith of their fathers, the Shawanoe shall die! My sons will tell the Shawanoe what Taggarak has said, that when he comes among the Blackfeet he shall live. Taggarak has spoken, and my sons may go. They will not forget the words of Taggarak."



CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW BLACKFOOT CITIZEN.

The words of Taggarak the war chief weighed heavily upon George and Victor Shelton, for nothing was more certain to them than that trouble for Deerfoot was near. He could not be frightened into any attempt to hide his light under a bushel, or to deny the faith that was woven into the very fibre of his being. The brothers talked the question over many times. It was never referred to between them and Mul-tal-la, for the Blackfoot could give them no help, and the final solution of the problem must be reached by Deerfoot himself.

Our young friends joined as earnestly in the games, the fishing and hunting as ever, and no one looking upon them would have dreamed that they suffered any discomfort of mind. Thus the days passed until two more weeks had gone by, and they began to wonder at the long absence of the Shawanoe.

There had been a flurry of snow, and the weather was perceptibly colder. As they sat in their lodge after finishing their late meal, the sifting of the needle-like points against the bison hides was soothing to the ear, and the crackling wood fire gave a cheerful illumination to the interior.

Reclining on the soft warm robes, they recurred to the theme that was continually in their thoughts.

"I am almost sorry we ever came to this place," said George, with a sigh. "We have had an interesting experience, have made a number of friends, such as they are, though there can never be much in the way of friendship between us and these people."

"How could we have spent the winter, which will be cold and severe?" asked his brother.

"Deerfoot would have had no trouble in finding some cave in the rocks which we could have fitted up into as good a house as this. There are places, too, where the horses would have been sheltered from the storms, and we could gather plenty of cottonwood bark when grass was beyond reach, and thus kept the animals alive."

"Perhaps that might have been done, but I don't believe it is as easy as you think. It seems to me our hope is in Deerfoot's tact. He will not listen in silence to any attack upon his faith, and when the heathen inquire of him he will answer them truly, but he has enough respect for the rank of Taggarak not to offend him when there is no need of doing so."

"You see he has already sown seed, and there will be inquiries by others from him. Spink and Jiggers have been thoughtful a long time. They have spoken to others. Mul-tal-la must have done the same, though he is cautious and fears to offend the chief. All these and many others will question Deerfoot, who will answer them without thought or care, even though a hundred Taggaraks stood in his way."

"Tact is a good thing, but all that I can see it is likely to do in this case is to postpone the trouble."

In the midst of their gloomy talk, and with the snow still rattling against the dry bison robes of their tepee, the flap was suddenly lifted and Deerfoot the Shawanoe entered and caught the hand of each delighted boy. His face was aglow with health and pleasure, for they were no happier than he over the reunion.

They slapped him on the shoulder, shook his hand again and again, and plied him with so many questions that minutes passed before there was anything like coherence in their boisterous chatter.

"Where did you leave Whirlwind?" asked George, thereby implying that he had not a shadow of doubt of the success of the venture of the young Shawanoe.

"This afternoon, when coming from the east to this settlement," replied their friend, "Deerfoot came in sight of Mul-tal-la, who was hunting alone. He had just shot an antelope, and we sat down and ate it together. Then we came to the village as it was growing dark. Mul-tal-la showed Deerfoot where the horses are free. There is snow on the ground, but not enough to hide all the grass, and Deerfoot was told of a place to the west, where Mul-tal-la says the shelter sometimes permits the grass to keep green all winter. There the horses will soon be taken, and shelter has been made for them. Whirlwind, after Deerfoot had talked with him, consented to go among the horses, as Zigzag, Prince and the others have done. He does not like to mingle with common animals, and is as proud as ever."

"We have enough left of our buffalo meat to furnish you a meal, Deerfoot, but you told us you had eaten only a little while ago."

"Deerfoot thanks his brothers, and will not eat until to-morrow."

"I suppose Mul-tal-la told you all about us?"

"He has left little for you to tell. Deerfoot is glad to hear his brothers have been so well, but they have much to say that he would like to hear."

"O Deerfoot!" exclaimed Victor; "tell us how you got Whirlwind back. You must have had a pretty hard time, for you were gone a month."

The three seated themselves on the soft furs, George first throwing additional wood on the blaze, and the Shawanoe, knowing how interested his friends were, modestly related the story with which you became familiar long ago. The boys were so absorbed in the narration that they did not speak nor move until it was ended. He made light of the dangers and difficulties which he overcame, and it was plain to his listeners that he slurred over more than one of his most remarkable exploits.

The brothers found it almost amusing to hear that the young Shawanoe had so wrenched one of his ankles that he could not use it for a time. It was so remarkable to learn that he had suffered from anything of that nature that they found it hard to associate the two. The manner in which Deerfoot stepped into the tent proved that he did not feel the slightest effects of the hurt. The Shawanoe told his friends that he and Mul-tal-la had purposely tarried outside the village until dark, because the newcomer did not care to have his arrival become known until the morrow. He wished to enjoy the first evening undisturbed with his old friends. Being on foot, with a blanket about his shoulders like Mul-tal-la and many other Blackfeet, he looked so much like one of them in the night that he attracted no notice, and Mul-tal-la promised to tell no one of the presence of the youth whom all were eager to see.

It was not until late in the evening that the Shawanoe spoke of the theme that had troubled the brothers so long. Mul-tal-la had told him of the conversation with Taggarak, and he asked the boys to give their recollection, not omitting a word they could recall. Their friend listened gravely, and was silent when they had finished, his dark eyes fixed upon the fire in the middle of the lodge, as if his meditations had drifted beyond the time and place. After waiting for several minutes, Victor said:

"Deerfoot, you can't know how much we are worried. We understand how you feel and that no danger can scare you into denying the true religion, any more than it can scare George and me, but you may as well be careful and avoid rousing the anger of Taggarak, so long as there is no need of provoking him."

"What would my brothers have Deerfoot do?" gently asked, the Shawanoe.

"We don't know," replied George. "Vic and I have talked about this a hundred times since our call on the chief, and we are puzzled as well as worried."

"Are my brothers ready to die for the religion?"

"We are, and will prove it if it ever becomes necessary; but," added Victor, "we don't see the need of dying when there isn't any need of it."

This original bit of philosophy caused Deerfoot to turn and look with a half-serious expression into the face of Victor.

"How great is the wisdom of my brother! Who taught him such things?"

Then assuming a graver countenance, but gazing steadily at his friend, he added:

"There was One who died on the cross for you and Deerfoot."

There was a world of meaning in these words, and they fitly closed the conversation for the night. All lay down soon after and slept until morning.

The snow ceased falling, and only a thin coating lay on the ground at daylight. An unusual moderation in the temperature carried this away before nightfall, and the weather became almost spring-like, or rather resembled the lingering days of Indian summer, which are the expiring gasp of the mild season, soon to be followed by the biting rigors of winter.

Before noon it was known throughout the Blackfoot village that the remarkable young Shawanoe had arrived. The excitement was greater than that caused by the coming of Victor and George Shelton, and for a time Deerfoot was seriously annoyed, but he strove to bear it with the sensible philosophy of his nature. Those who saw him as he moved here and there with the boys, or Mul-tal-la, or Spink and Jiggers, had to admit the truth of the assertion heard many times; he was the most prepossessing young warrior upon whom any of them had ever looked. Neither among the Blackfeet nor any of their neighboring tribes had so comely a youth been seen. And this being the fact, many were more unwilling than before to believe he was so powerful, so active, so fleet of foot and so athletic as had been claimed. This doubt was not lessened by the conduct of Deerfoot himself. He soon became acquainted with nearly everyone in the village, and went upon hunting expeditions with them, but displayed no more skill than most of his companions. He avoided all trials of speed, though often invited to take part by the doubters. In crossing the river in a canoe with two of his new acquaintances, he swung a paddle, while each of them did the same. The Blackfeet saw no evidence of skill superior to theirs, because in truth none was displayed. He was urged to take part in their games, but made excuse to act only as spectator. He did not wish to become a competitor and deceive the others by not doing his best. His modesty led him to shrink from exhibiting his abilities. Moreover, he had a feeling that it savored of ingratitude or lack of appreciation of the hospitality he was receiving to place himself at the fore, as he knew he could readily do.

But it had to come. Too many boasts had been made by the friends of Deerfoot for the envious Blackfeet to allow the Shawanoe to rest upon such laurels. Neither Mul-tal-la nor the brothers would abate one bit of their claims. Deerfoot would have stopped them had not the mischief, as he viewed it, been done before his coming. He could only remain mute and hope the matter would die out of itself. But that was impossible.

The most noted test of athletic skill that ever occurred in the history of the Blackfeet tribe took place one bright, keen, sunshiny afternoon on the bleak plain at the rear of the village. A week had been spent in making the preparations as thorough as they could be made. Runners came from three of the other villages, and they were the flower of the tribe—lithe, sinewy, swift and splendid specimens of manly beauty, symmetry and grace. Each was worthy of being called a champion, and all were confident of lowering the colors of the dusky stranger from the land of the rising sun, who had been presumptuous enough to be persuaded to enter a trial that must disgrace him. More than one believed that in his chagrin the Shawanoe would hasten from the village and never more be seen in that part of the world.

Now, it would be interesting to tell all about this memorable tournament, but you have no more doubt of the result than did the victor from the moment he consented to enter into it. Mul-tal-la and the Shelton brothers, including Spink and Jiggers, impressed upon the Shawanoe the necessity of his doing his best, no matter what the nature of the struggle might be. He promised to follow their counsel, as he did that of Simon Kenton at the foot race at Woodvale the year before.

Five contestants entered against Deerfoot. The distance was about two hundred yards. Never before was the Shawanoe pitted against such fleet runners, but he finished the struggle fifty feet in front of the foremost. The spectators, as well as the defeated runners themselves, were dazed, and could hardly credit their own senses.

Not less crushing were Deerfoot's victories in the running, the standing and the high jump. Like all great athletes, his triumphs seemed to be won without calling upon his reserve capacity, and therefore with much less apparent effort than shown by his rivals. In firing at a target, he left the few marksmen of the tribe hopelessly out of sight. Then he borrowed Mul-tal-la's bow, and every arrow that he launched went farther and truer than any other. Altogether it was a great day for Deerfoot the Shawanoe.



CHAPTER XV.

THE SPIRIT CIRCLE.

Never in all their lives were the Shelton brothers prouder of Deerfoot the Shawanoe than when they saw him utterly defeat the finest athletes of the Blackfoot tribe. The youth had done his best, as he was urged to do, and his triumph was too overwhelming for anyone to question it. He had been pitted against the very flower of that powerful people, who at that time numbered between three and four thousand souls. The pick of the runners and marksmen had come from the other villages, and every one was decisively vanquished.

The delight of Mul-tal-la and of Spink and Jiggers was hardly less than that of the boys. Mul-tal-la knew the Shawanoe would win, while the other two Blackfeet merely believed it, for they had never been intimately associated with the champion of champions, and only remembered what Mul-tal-la told them he had witnessed.

Human nature is the same the world over, and among the defeated ones was a feeling of envy and resentment toward the young warrior who belonged to another tribe, and who, after coming many hundreds of miles, had put them all to shame. This was to be expected, and it caused no uneasiness to Deerfoot, who had faced it many times among his own race as well as on the part of white people.

But the Shawanoe took little or no pleasure in his victory. He had entered into the contest because he could not help it. Had he reached the village at the same time with his friends, he would have sternly forbidden any reference to his brilliant physical powers, and thus prevented the tournament that was so distasteful to him; but, as I have shown, the mischief was done before he came upon the scene. His reputation had been proclaimed, and naught remained but to prove that only the simple truth had been told of him.

That evening the four friends who had spent so many days and nights together were gathered in the lodge at the northern end of the village. Time had been given for the excitement to die out. Three of the defeated champions were well on their way to their own village, when, had the result been different, they would have staid for several days in what may be considered the Blackfoot capital. The hum and murmur of voices and the restless moving to and fro were audible outside, but the old companions were left to themselves. Mul-tal-la had succeeded in impressing upon his countrymen that when their guests retired to their tepee they were not to be intruded upon.

The fire was burning in the middle of the primitive home, and George and Victor Shelton and Mul-tal-la were seated on the furs that were spread along three sides of the apartment. Deerfoot sat by himself, removed from all. He was partly reclining on one elbow and gazing into the fire, as if sunk in meditation. The boys knew the meaning of his attitude and air; he was dissatisfied with what had occurred that day.

"By gracious!" said Victor; "if I could do what you did, Deerfoot, I'd be so proud I wouldn't speak to George or Mul-tal-la or you; and yet you don't seem to feel a bit stuck up. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

The Shawanoe made no reply, but continued gazing into the fire, as if he did not hear the words. George added:

"Your victory will be talked about among all the Blackfoot villages, and the children of to-day will tell their children about it long after we are gone."

Mul-tal-la kept glancing at Deerfoot with an admiring, affectionate expression, and, noting his continued silence, he said in a gentle voice:

"The Blackfeet did not think Mul-tal-la spoke with a single tongue; they said his words were lies, but they do not say so now."

"I didn't see anything of Taggarak," added Victor. "I looked around for him after the battle was won. Why did he stay away?"

Deerfoot for the first time noted what was said. He lifted his head from his elbow and sat upright.

"Taggarak was there; Deerfoot saw him," he quietly remarked.

"Yes; Mul-tal-la passed near him. The chief kept by himself and spoke to no one. He was on the side nearest the wood. Just before the last race was won he turned away and went back to his lodge."

"What was the meaning of that?" asked the Shawanoe. "Is he displeased with the defeat of his young men?"

"It is the other way; he is glad their conceit has been checked. The Blackfeet are great boasters, and he has reproved them many times. Mul-tal-la saw him smile when Deerfoot came home many paces in front of that tall warrior, who is the greatest boaster of them all. Taggarak was glad when he was defeated."

"It pleases us more than we can tell to know that Deerfoot has won the good-will of the war chief," observed George Shelton, who could not forget that ominous conversation they had had some time before with Taggarak. "It will make our stay more pleasant than I believed it would be."

The observant Victor noticed that Mul-tal-la gave no reply to this remark, which had been made in the hope of being confirmed by the Blackfoot. The latter glanced at the Shawanoe, whose eyes again rested upon the fire. George threw a couple of sticks in the blaze and then resumed his seat beside his brother. When the stillness was becoming oppressive, Mul-tal-la startled all three of his listeners by what was certainly a remarkable question:

"Is Deerfoot afraid of any man?"

Even the Shawanoe flashed a surprised look upon the Blackfoot.

"Why does my brother ask Deerfoot that?"

"He shall soon know. Will Deerfoot answer Mul-tal-la?"

The question seemed to rouse the Shawanoe, who spoke with more animation than he had shown since the group had come together for the evening.

"No; Deerfoot fears no man that lives! God has given him more power and skill than he deserves. He has never denied protection to Deerfoot. He has told him to do right, and Deerfoot tries to obey His will. When He thinks the time has come for Deerfoot to go to Him, Deerfoot will be ready and will be glad. Deerfoot knows He is not pleased with such things as took place to-day. What is it for one man to run faster or shoot straighter than another? No credit belongs to him, for it is God who gives him the power. Deerfoot would sin if he shrank from any task laid upon him; but a victory like that just won does no one any good. Deerfoot would be happier if he could turn the thoughts of all those people to the true God."

In the warmth of his feelings the Shawanoe had wandered from the question just asked him, but in doing so he revealed the nobility of his nature. He was oppressed by the belief that the strife in which he had been the victor not only accomplished no real good, but actually retarded the work he had in mind. He came back to the question his friend had just asked.

"Why does my brother think Deerfoot is afraid of any man?"

Mul-tal-la could not hide a certain nervousness, but with all the calmness he could summon he parried the direct question by the remark:

"The most terrible warrior of all the Blackfeet is Taggarak the chieftain; he has slain many men in battle and has never been conquered."

The inference from this remark was obvious even to the boys. It was Victor who asked in surprise:

"Is Deerfoot to fight with Taggarak? If he does, I'll bet on Deerfoot."

To any others except those present the words of the Shawanoe would have sounded like boasting, but there was no such thought in his heart.

"Deerfoot has no more fear of Taggarak than he has of a pappoose. He may be a great warrior, but Deerfoot has conquered as great warriors as he."

Determined that Mul-tal-la should parry no longer, the Shawanoe forced him to a direct answer.

"Why does my brother think Taggarak wishes to fight him?"

The reply was astonishing:

"The squaw of Taggarak is seeking to learn of the God that she has been told is known to the Shawanoe. She has asked me, she has asked Kepkapkolakak and Borabtrik (the messengers known as 'Spink' and 'Jiggers'). She does not sleep because of her heaviness of mind."

"Does Taggarak know of this?" asked the surprised Deerfoot.

"Not yet; but it must soon come to his knowledge."

"Will he harm his wife?"

"Mul-tal-la cannot say; he may put her to death. There is no doubt that he will slay Deerfoot—if he can," added the Blackfoot significantly, "or he will make him walk around the Spirit Circle till he drops dead."

Deerfoot stared in astonishment. He was mystified.

"The Spirit Circle," he repeated. "Does Deerfoot hear aright? If so, what does his brother mean? Deerfoot is listening."

Thus appealed to, the Blackfoot was silent for a minute, as if gathering his thoughts. He looked up at the opening in the roof of the lodge, then into the fire, and, addressing the three, repeated the following myth or legend, which has been extant among the Blackfeet Indians from time immemorial:

"Many, many moons ago, long before the parents of our oldest men were born, a chieftain as great as Taggarak ruled the Blackfeet. His fame reached far to the north, to the east, to the south and to the west, beyond the Stony Mountains, to the shore of the great water, for there was none like him. In those far-away days the home of Wahla, chieftain of the Blackfeet, was to the south of this village, on the banks of the Two Rivers.

"Wahla had a daughter who was the most beauteous maiden that warrior ever looked upon. She was loving and dainty, and the idol of the stern old warrior, who would have cut off his right hand rather than have the slightest harm come to her. Never did father love daughter more than Chief Wahla loved Mita the Rose of the Forest.

"Wahla returned one day from a fierce battle with the Cheyennes. A great victory had been won, and the Blackfeet brought home a score of prisoners, that they might be tied to the stake and burned while their captives made merry over their sufferings. This was the custom of the Blackfeet, and they have not yet forgotten such amusements.

"Among the captives was a manly youth, who was proud and brave, and had slain three of the Blackfeet and wounded Wahla himself before they made him prisoner. He scorned to ask mercy, which would have been denied him, and, without a tremor of limb or a dimming of his bright eyes, awaited the cruel death that he knew had been prepared for him and his comrades.

"Wahla had to keep his captives for a week or more until word could be sent to the other villages, that they might come and feast upon the deaths of the Cheyennes. During that time, Mul-tal-la cannot tell how, the young Cheyenne warrior and Mita, daughter of the chieftain, met and learned to love each other. No one knew their secret, and so, while preparations were going on for the cruel deaths, she managed to loose his bonds, and one night the two fled for the home of the Cheyennes, there to become husband and wife.

"Wahla did not learn of the flight of his daughter and lover until the next morning, when he started in pursuit. He went alone, for his rage was so terrible that he was not willing anyone should share the sweetness of revenge with him. He traveled fast, and drew nigh enough to catch sight of the two on the second day following their flight. He did not carry his bow, but had his knife and tomahawk, while the youth possessed no weapon at all. Had a knife been his, he would not have used it against Wahla, because he was the father of the maiden whom he loved more than his life.

"When the two found they could not flee faster than the wrathful chieftain, they paused and waited for him to come up. Then Mita threw herself at the feet of her father and prayed him to spare the life of the Cheyenne. The chief spurned her and ran after the young warrior. The youth did not flee, but stood with folded arms, calmly awaiting him.

"'Slay me,' he said, 'but when I die Mita will die with me!'

"Heedless of the appeal, the furious chieftain plunged his knife into the breast of the youth, who sank to the earth and breathed out his life. Wahla turned to seize his daughter, but at that moment a wild shriek rent the air, and she died, clasping his knees and moaning that he had slain her as well as the Cheyenne.

"When Wahla saw what he had done, he started to hurry to his village, but his mind had gone from him. You were told that he had been wounded by the Cheyenne in battle. The wound was in the thigh of the chief, and it now broke out afresh, as if in punishment for the crime he had committed. It made him limp sorely, but he would not stop, and ran faster than ever. Because of his halt gait, he ran in a circle.

"Round and round he went all night, when he perished, but the Great Spirit kept him running throughout the days and weeks that followed until he became a shadow. His feet wore a circular path, which may be seen to-day, as Mul-tal-la has looked upon it many times and my brothers may do if they will journey a few days to the southward.

"But Mul-tal-la now tells the strangest part of this story. In the years that have passed since Wahla slew the Cheyenne lover, and his daughter died at his feet, the storms would have wiped away all signs of the path long ago. But it remains as distinct as ever. This is because the spirit of Wahla tramps it round and round all through the nights when the moon does not shine, for no one can see him running over the ground.

"When you look toward the slope of the mountain you can see the circle as plain as we see those sticks burning in the middle of the lodge, but when you reach the spot no sign of the path shows."

"How is that?" asked the wondering Victor.

"It is the belief that the spirit of Mita, the daughter, is always hovering over the spot, and that her heart forever grieves for her father and lover. When she sees anyone drawing near the place, she hurries from her home, which is near at hand, though no one knows exactly where, and, bending over the ground, hurries along and flirts a piece of her garment over the whole length of the path and blots it out, so that grass grows where a few minutes before was only the hard earth, packed by the moccasins of her father."

"What brings the path into sight again?" asked George Shelton.

"When night comes, Chief Wahla begins tramping around the circle once more. At sunrise the path is as it was before, and so remains unless some one starts forward to gain a closer look. The moment he does so the invisible spirit of Mita, daughter of Wahla, hurries out and destroys all the footprints, so that no one has ever been near enough to gain a close view of them, nor can he ever do so. Such is the legend of the Spirit Circle."[1]

[1] On the gently sloping side of a low mountain near the Colorado-Wyoming line can be plainly seen a circular path of about two hundred feet in diameter. The road connecting the Rambler copper mines with Laramie passes within ten miles of the place. When the curious observer climbs to the spot, whose path shows distinctly from a distance, he cannot detect a sign of the mystic circle. Various theories have been offered in explanation of this phenomenon, but as yet none has proved satisfactory.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIELD OF HONOR.

Deerfoot did not interrupt the Blackfoot while he was relating the legend of the Spirit Circle. He listened attentively. He had heard many such myths among his own people, and once they impressed him, but he had come to look upon them as idle tales not worth a thought. Instead of commenting upon the rude beauty of the story that had been told to his friend many years before, he asked the practical question:

"What has the Spirit Circle to do with Deerfoot and Taggarak?"

"It is the law among the Blackfeet that when our war chief Taggarak wills to punish some great criminal he sends him to the Spirit Circle, where he must walk around it without food or drink till he drops down and dies."

"Has anyone ever done that?" asked the Shawanoe.

"Yes; more than once. Not many moons ago a warrior killed his father, mother and child in a fit of rage. The only punishment that fitted such an awful crime was that of the Spirit Circle. Three warriors took the man there and started him round the path; they took turns in watching, and made sure that he had no food nor water, and was kept moving till he could move no longer. He fell down, and they stood near until he breathed his last; then they came back to Taggarak and told him what had been done."

"My brother has not yet shown what his words have to do with Deerfoot and Taggarak."

"Let my brother have patience and he shall know. Deerfoot remembers the rock from whose top he first caught sight of Mul-tal-la, whose brother was coming to this village, riding on Whirlwind?"

As he spoke the Blackfoot pointed to the east. Deerfoot nodded. The meeting place was a half mile beyond the open space on which the athletic contests had been held that day.

"It is the command of Taggarak that the Shawanoe shall meet him there to-morrow, when the sun climbs the mountain tops. He must bring only his hunting knife and come alone; the chief will do the same. When they face each other, Taggarak will give the Shawanoe the choice of dying by his hand or at the Spirit Circle."

"Did Taggarak say that to my brother?"

"That is his command. He has heard that the Shawanoe is making squaws of his warriors; he therefore gives him his choice of deaths."

Victor Shelton sprang to his feet.

"See here, Mul-tal-la," he said, excitedly; "do you tell us that the chief Taggarak makes the condition that he and Deerfoot are each to use only his knife as a weapon?"

The Blackfoot gravely nodded his head.

"And that neither is to have a friend with him?"

"So Taggarak wills."

"That isn't the way people fight duels. George and I must be on hand when Deerfoot gets into a scrape like that."

"But it cannot be."

"My brothers will stay here till Deerfoot comes back to them," quietly remarked the Shawanoe.

"But how are we to know that Taggarak won't play some trick on us? He may have half a dozen of his warriors hiding among the bushes or rocks, so as to help him kill Deerfoot."

For the first time in the interview Mul-tal-la smiled.

"Taggarak never breaks his word. He might do as my brothers say if he thought there was need of it. He doesn't believe the Shawanoe will be more than a child in his hands when the two stand in front of each other."

"He might have thought that yesterday, or at any time before the games to-day, but after he saw Deerfoot perform he must have some doubt."

"Deerfoot did not fight. Taggarak knows naught of his skill in doing that, even though he has been told he killed a grizzly bear in a fair struggle. He would feel ashamed if he asked for any help against the Shawanoe."

Deerfoot calmly rose to his feet. Those who looked up at him noted a peculiar flash of his dark eyes that was not often seen, and, when seen, told of the hidden fires he was holding in subjection. He raised his hand for silence.

"Let Deerfoot speak. He knows where the rock is that Taggarak says shall be the meeting place between him and me. His command shall be obeyed. Deerfoot will be there, with only his knife to defend himself. He has said he does not fear the Blackfoot chieftain. Let my brothers speak of something else."

The boys and even Mul-tal-la were so full of the theme that it was hard for them to talk or think of anything beside. They would have questioned the Shawanoe as to his plans and intentions, but he would not permit. The hour was growing late, and the Blackfoot remained but a short time, when he bade all good-night and passed out of the tepee.

Respecting the mood of Deerfoot, neither Victor nor George made any further reference to the momentous morrow. They disrobed and stretched out on their soft couches, while the Shawanoe, taking his Bible from the bosom of his hunting shirt, reclined on one elbow—his favorite attitude at such times—so that the light fell on the printed page. He read in his low, musical voice until, suspecting the truth, he paused and looked across at the brothers. Both were asleep. He smiled, read awhile longer to himself and then joined them in the land of dreams, sinking into slumber as quickly as they, and within the ten minutes following his own prayer.

The morning dawned dull, chilly and clouded, with threats of snow in the air. The Shawanoe was the first to awake, and busied himself in his usual noiseless fashion with renewing the fire and preparing the morning meal from the antelope meat, of which enough was on hand to last for several meals. The salt and pepper brought by the boys from home had been used up long before, and they had accustomed themselves to get on without the condiments which seem so much of a necessity with us.

The breakfast was eaten with the usual deliberation, none of the three speaking of the event that was impending, though the brothers were full of it. When Deerfoot arose, drew his knife from his girdle, carefully inspected it and then shoved it back in place and glanced across the room to where his rifle was leaning in one corner, Victor could keep silence no longer.

"You know what faith we have in you, Deerfoot, but we are anxious, and shall be in distress until we see you back again."

"Why are my brothers troubled?" calmly asked the Shawanoe.

"We can't help believing Taggarak will use treachery, for he must know he isn't certain to win when he attacks you."

"Nothing can make him believe the truth till it comes to him. He will take no warriors with him. Deerfoot is in no danger. Let my brothers smile and be glad."

"I wish I could grin, but it's too hard work," was the doleful response of Victor, the face of his brother showing that he felt the same.

Deerfoot warmly shook hands with each in turn, such being his usual custom, stooped and drew the flap aside and passed from sight. Enough of the Blackfeet were astir to notice him moving at a moderate pace past the lodges toward the clearing at the rear of the village. He greeted all in their own language, and did not show by anything in his manner that he had any important matter in hand. He stealthily glanced here and there, on the lookout for Taggarak, but saw nothing of him. Perhaps the chief had already gone to the scene of the hostile meeting; perhaps he had not yet set out, for the hour was early, or, what was more likely, he had taken another route. Of one thing Deerfoot was certain: the chief had told no one of what was coming, except Mul-tal-la, who bore the message to the youth. When the two combatants should meet, no human eye must witness the terrific combat.

The sagacious Shawanoe had decided to follow a certain line that may impress you as singular for him to adopt. It seemed like undue confidence when he declared that he had no fear of the man who was certainly the most fearful fighter of the whole Blackfoot tribe. Modest as he was by nature, Deerfoot was too intelligent not to understand his decisive superiority, as compared with any of his own or of the white race. That superiority had been proved too often to leave any doubt in his mind. Moreover, with his youth and high health, he was aware that these remarkable powers were not declining, but rather increasing, and ought to increase for a dozen or more years to come.

The American Indian, as a rule, does not show excessive muscular development. Arms and legs are wanting in those ridged bunches of sinew which often bulge out all over our athletes. And yet more than one red man has displayed prodigious strength. Deerfoot believed he was stronger than Taggarak, despite his own light, graceful figure, which made him a dusky Adonis.

He knew that possibly he was mistaken in this respect, but there could be no doubt on another point: he was much quicker of movement than the iron-limbed Taggarak. The open space would give full freedom to both, and this quickness would not be hampered at all during the fight between them. Moreover, Deerfoot was an unerring judge of distance, and knew on the instant when to dodge and when to strike. Therefore he feared not, but with that old Adamic strain in his nature, really yearned for the battle.

It has long been the custom of Indians, when facing each other in mortal strife, to resort to taunts and insults. If a foe can be driven into anger, while his tormentor keeps cool, the latter has the victory half won. Deerfoot could not stifle a feeling of resentment over the contemptuous behavior of Taggarak toward him. Instead of contenting himself with merely challenging the Shawanoe to mortal combat, he sent him word that all that was left for him to do was to choose between two methods of shuffling off the mortal coil. It was to be the Spirit Circle or by the knife of the Blackfoot. This scornful treatment of the youth angered him, and it was one of the reasons why he decided to adopt a policy which in other circumstances he would have considered beneath a true warrior.



CHAPTER XVII.

A MEMORABLE DUEL.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe, before entering the elevated wooded portion to the east of the bleak plain that had been the scene of his triumphs the day before, paused and carefully scrutinized all that lay within his field of vision. He was not altogether free from a shadowy suspicion that Taggarak would resort to treachery, though for reasons named by Mul-tal-la it was improbable. Despite the care the youth had used, he feared that rumors of the coming fight had got abroad, and some of the curious might brave the wrath of their chief for the sake of viewing the combat. That which Deerfoot saw, or rather failed to see, convinced him that both fears were unfounded.

He recalled too clearly the spot named by the Blackfoot to make any mistake, and he went directly to it. A few rods beyond the rocks where Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot had caught sight of each other after their long separation was a comparatively clear and level space that covered a fourth of an acre or less. A glance showed it to be an ideal spot for a meeting such as was at hand.

Deerfoot looked hastily around for Taggarak. He was not in sight. In truth, the Shawanoe was considerably ahead of time, and the chief was not a moment late when, after awhile, he strode into view from the other side of the arena.

This famous chieftain has already been described. No one could look upon him without a certain admiration, and it was easy to believe the many stories of his prowess. He was spare of frame, nearly six feet tall, and his mien and manner showed perfect fearlessness. He wore no head dress, his abundant hair, in which there was not the first streaking of gray, falling loosely over his shoulders, almost to his waist. The upper part of his body was encased in a shirt of deerskin, and the buckskin breeches were fringed down the legs. Deerfoot noticed that he had on a new pair of moccasins, stained several bright colors. He must have thought the occasion warranted something in the nature of display. There was no skirt to the jacket-like garment, the thighs being inclosed with the buckskin which formed the leggings, after the manner of the modern style of trousers. The handle of his knife—the weapon that many a time had done frightful work—could be seen protruding from the girdle that encircled his waist.

With a dignified step the chief strode forward until within a dozen paces of Deerfoot, when he paused and scowled at him.

Following his policy of tantalism, Deerfoot made a mock bow and said:

"Blackfoot, the Shawanoe is glad to see you come at last. But why does the Blackfoot tremble when he finds himself in front of a warrior instead of a squaw who knows not how to fight?"

The chief had never been addressed in this audacious fashion, and his eyes seemed to scintillate from under his scowling brows. Could it be he heard aright?

"When the Shawanoe learned that the Blackfoot who calls himself chief and pretends to be a brave man wished to meet him in fight by this rock, the heart of the Shawanoe was glad and he hurried to come; but the Blackfoot is backward. He hoped the Shawanoe would not come, but he is here and eager to fight him."

And to show the truth of his words, Deerfoot drew his knife from his girdle and grasped it in his good left hand.

Taggarak now found his voice. There was a tremulousness in the words, but it was due to his tumultuous wrath and not to fear.

"Dog of a Shawanoe! Do you choose to die by the hand of Taggarak, or shall he send you to the Spirit Circle? Let him choose!"

"Squaw of a Blackfoot! It shall be neither. The Shawanoe cares naught for the Spirit Circle, and will not go there. He has no fear of the Blackfoot who knows how to fight women but trembles when he stands before the Shawanoe! Has the Blackfoot brought some of his warriors to save him from the anger of the Shawanoe?"

And Deerfoot glanced around, as if looking for the help which he knew was not near. He did not see it, but he saw something else, which caused him almost as much displeasure. As he turned toward a large boulder, half hidden by bushes, the upper part of a head dropped down out of sight. Seen only for an instant, the Shawanoe recognized the owner as Victor Shelton, and knew his brother was with him. Despite Deerfoot's orders the boys had managed to steal their way from place to place and were spectators of this meeting. It was too late now to correct the wrong, and he acted as if he knew it not. All the same, he resolved to "discipline" the youths for disregarding his orders.



In this game of abuse the chief was no match for the Shawanoe, who saw that the tempestuous rage of Taggarak threatened to master him. Accustomed throughout his life to be feared and obeyed, it was unbearable thus to be flouted to his face by a stripling, whom he felt able to crush like a bird's egg. He drew his knife, whose blade was several inches longer than the weapon of the Shawanoe.

With the weapon clinched as if in a vise, the chief thrust his left foot forward for a single pace, but did not advance farther. He was debating with himself how best to dispose of this intolerable youth. A quick death would be too merciful; he would first wound and then prolong his suffering for an hour or more.

"The trembling Blackfoot fears to come to the Shawanoe, so the Shawanoe will go to him."

These words were accompanied with an exquisite sneer, and Deerfoot advanced three paces, taking care to stop before he was within reach of the enraged chief.

"Does the Shawanoe think the God he worships can save him from the vengeance of Taggarak, who spurns that God?"

The reply was a noble one. Dropping his insulting tones and manner, Deerfoot said:

"The Shawanoe knows not whether the God he worships will save him; he never cares nor thinks of that. He knows that whatever his Father chooses to do is right, and if He does not wish to take care of the Shawanoe, it is right. He will go to heaven, the abode of those who obey God, when he is called. He will be ready, whether he hears that call in the gloom of the woods at midnight or on the plain when the sun is high in the sky.

"The Blackfoot worships false gods. Let him learn whether they will help him when he stands in front of the Shawanoe."

The self-confidence of the chief was absolute. Wearied of listening to the taunts of the dusky Apollo, he strode toward him, raising his right hand as he did so, feinted once and then brought down the weapon with a vicious vigor that was meant to bury the point in the shoulder of Deerfoot.

The blade, however, swished through air, and the youth smote the chief squarely in the mouth with the back of his fist. He could have used his knife, but he chose to play awhile with this boaster. He delivered his blow so quickly that the Blackfoot, accustomed as he was to fierce hand-to-hand fighting, had no time to dodge or parry, and the next instant the Shawanoe was ten feet away, weapon still grasped, and grinning at the slightly dazed chief.

"Why does not the Blackfoot squaw strike the Shawanoe? The Shawanoe has struck him. Cannot the Blackfoot see where to strike with his knife? He is as slow as an aged woman, but he fears the Shawanoe, who is his master."

Taggarak could not believe his failure was anything more than one of those accidents to which the most skilful fighter is sometimes liable. His weapon was still firm in his hand, and he moved forward again, taking shorter and more stealthy steps. He crouched as if gathering his muscles for a leap, while the Shawanoe contemptuously watched him, alert and observant as a cat.

Six feet away the chief halted. Deerfoot did not stir. Taggarak had learned of the lightning-like quickness of the youth, but felt none the less certain of speedily overcoming him.

For a full minute the two glared at each other, neither speaking, but the same aggravating, scornful smile was on the face of the young Shawanoe. Suddenly he did an astounding thing. He tossed his knife several feet up in the air, caught it by the handle as it came down and then flung it a couple of rods to one side.

"The Shawanoe needs no weapon to conquer the Blackfoot squaw!"

Then Deerfoot voluntarily placed himself in front of the furious warrior, without any weapon with which to defend himself. Not only that, he folded his arms over his breast and with biting irony added:

"Now let the Blackfoot think he has a squaw in front of him; then he will strike hard, if his hand does not tremble."

It was more than flesh and blood could stand. The passion within the breast of the chief broke into a volcano-like flame. With a hissing gasp he sprang forward, striking swiftly with his knife, first downward, then upward and then from side to side, as if he meant to cut the execrated youth into ribbons. He repeated the wild blows with a celerity that almost prevented the eye from following the movements.

But, as before, he split only vacancy. Deerfoot easily eluded the strokes, which were blinder than usual, for Taggarak was beside himself with passion. In the midst of his aimless outburst the Shawanoe did another thing which was worthy of a skilled pugilist. Waiting for an opening, he shot his left hand forward, and, with the open palm, landed a stunning blow on the bridge of the chief's nose. The advantage of such a blow is that, when rightly delivered, tears are forced into the eyes of the one receiving it, who, for a minute or two, is partially blinded. You can understand his fatal position. He cannot pause to clear his vision, for it comes at the crisis of the fight, and an instant halting means ignominious defeat, while to persevere, when he has only the partial use of his sight, makes his disadvantage hardly the less.

While the chief was savagely blinking, in order to enable him to see, the crowning taunt of all sounded in his ears:

"The Blackfoot cries like a pappoose. Does he wish to tread the Spirit Circle? Does he beg the Shawanoe to be merciful to him? If he whines for pity, let him sink on his knees and the Shawanoe will listen to his crying."

Chief Taggarak now lost the last shred of self-control. With a growl of crazy rage he bounded forward again, striking up and down and right and left with a blind, venomous energy that would have exhausted a giant.

Suddenly the wrist which held the whistling blade was seized in the steel-like fingers of Deerfoot's left hand. The grip was fearful, for the Shawanoe had now called upon his last reserve of strength, and the wrist was as if encased in a coil of iron. Then, with a peculiar twist of his hand, known only to himself, and resembling that remarkable system known under the name of jiu jitsu among the Japanese, who are the only ones that understand it in all its frightful perfection, he bent the hand of the chief remorselessly over and backward, until the palm gaped like the mouth of a dying fish and the knife dropped to the ground.

Deerfoot now had both wrists imprisoned. Taggarak gasped and panted and writhed, but could not twist himself loose. In the trial of strength the Shawanoe proved himself the superior. Great drops gathered on the forehead of the Blackfoot. His grin displayed every molar in his head, and the mouth, stretched to double its usual extent, had that horrible appearance when the space between the lips at the corners is the same as in front and the expression is that of a raging wild beast.

Thus the two stood, their arms sawing up and down and from one side to another, without the Blackfoot being able to loosen the merciless grip. He was panting, but no one could have detected any quickening of the respiration of the Shawanoe. His mouth was set and the light of battle flashed in his eyes. He did not speak or yield a point. The crisis had come and he knew he was the victor, just as he knew he would be from the first.

The Blackfoot swayed and his moccasins slid here and there over the ground from the contortion of limbs and body. Then he began pushing with might and main. His eyes were beginning to clear, but the perspiration dripped from the twisted coppery features. Reading his purpose, Deerfoot began pushing also. Neither yielded for a minute or two, and then the chief was slowly forced backward. There was no withstanding the tremendous power of the youth, who strove to the last ounce of his matchless strength.

Taggarak recoiled a step, then another, then began walking backward, and the next minute the walk became a trot on the part of both, the chief retreating and the Shawanoe forcing him faster and faster, though he struggled and resisted with the same panting desperation as at first.

He was still trotting backward with short, increasing steps when Deerfoot, never relaxing his grasp on the writhing wrists, thrust one heel behind his enemy, who tripped and went over. To insure due emphasis in the fall, Deerfoot made a leap as he was going and landed with both knees on the breast of the Blackfoot, who dropped with a thump that forced a gasp from his body and literally shook the earth.

George and Victor Shelton, in their excitement, sprang up from behind the rock that hid them. When Taggarak went over on his back, with Deerfoot bearing him down, Victor could restrain himself no longer. Snatching his cap from his head he swung it aloft, and had opened his mouth to cheer when the slightly less excited brother clapped his hand over his lips.

"What do you mean, you idiot?"

"I want to cheer for Deerfoot! If I don't I'll bust!"

"You will get all the busting you want from him if he finds out we came here, after he told us to stay at home."

"By gracious! That's so; I forgot it. I'm glad you stopped me; we must keep mum. Look!"



CHAPTER XVIII.

DISCIPLINE IN THE RANKS.

The force of the impact and the crushing weight of the Shawanoe's body knocked Taggarak senseless for the moment. He lay panting, with eyes half closed and his countenance glistening with moisture.

Deerfoot, without removing his knees, watched the eyes until they slowly opened and glared upward with a dazed expression. The youth had removed his fingers from the wrist of the chief. He now bent his face close to his and asked:

"Who now is master—the Blackfoot or the Shawanoe? Whose God is the greater—Taggarak's or Deerfoot's?"

But the chieftain was game. He had put up a hurricane fight and had been conquered—conquered by a youth who carried no weapon in his hand, and who could have driven out his life at any moment during the progress of the battle. Instead of slaying his victim, the Shawanoe had put one indignity after another upon him.

"Let the Shawanoe take his knife and kill Taggarak! He does not wish to live!"

"So Taggarak would do with the Shawanoe, but so does not the Shawanoe, for he is a Christian," replied Deerfoot, rising from the prostrate body and stepping back for a couple of paces.

The Blackfoot was still bewildered. He lay motionless for a few seconds, staring at the youth looking serenely down upon him. The chief had been conquered, absolutely, crushingly and to the last degree humiliatingly; for, most amazing thing of all, his conqueror had refused to take his life, knowing that it would have been the other way had the Shawanoe suffered defeat.

And he who showed this unheard-of mercy professed to be a Christian! What a strange religion to make a warrior act in that manner!

Slowly the iron-limbed chieftain climbed to his feet. He was not looking at the Shawanoe, who had folded his arms and was calmly watching him. Taggarak stood upright, turned his face away, took three steps and then paused. His head flirted about like a bird's and he fixed his burning eyes upon the dusky youth, still posed like a statue, with arms folded and on the alert for any treachery.

The Blackfoot gazed steadily into the eyes that met his own without flinching. He did not speak, but, looking away again, strode solemnly across the open space, not pausing to pick up his weapon, and disappeared in the rocky wood.

Deerfoot remained motionless for several moments, gazing at the point where the other had passed from sight. Then he reverently turned his eyes upward and murmured:

"I thank Thee, my Heavenly Father. Thou art kinder to Deerfoot than he deserves."

His next act was most peculiar. He paid no heed to the knife of Taggarak, but picked up his own. It had a keen edge, and instead of thrusting the weapon into his girdle he walked to the nearest undergrowth and began cutting a stick several feet in length and of nearly an inch's thickness at the butt.

About this time George and Victor Shelton, from their hiding place, where they had stealthily watched everything, began to feel disturbed in mind.

"What do you suppose he is doing that for?" whispered Victor, peeping around the corner of the rock.

"I'm blessed if I know. He is trimming off the twigs, so as to make the stick smooth."

"Do you suppose he saw us?"

"He couldn't. He has mighty sharp eyes, but he had no chance to look anywhere except in the face of Taggarak, and we haven't shown ourselves since he left."

"It's a queer performance anyway, and I don't feel—"

"Sh! He's looking this way."

The next moment both boys shivered, for, facing the rock which until then they were certain had hid them from view, the Shawanoe called:

"Let my brothers come here. Deerfoot wishes to speak to them."

"He saw us after all!" gasped Victor. "Let's run!"

"What good will that do? There's no getting away from him."

"He looks savage, George; he means business. Can't we combine and lick him if he tries to play smart with us?"

"If we could get Mul-tal-la and three or four other Blackfeet we might have a show; but it would take more than you and me to down him. Come, it won't do to wait any longer."

The brothers were pretty well convinced of what was coming and were scared. To Victor only one possible escape presented itself—that was to conciliate the Shawanoe. The lad made a brave attempt to do so.

Coming out from behind the rock, he strode rapidly down the gentle slope, as if he had just recognized the youth. Victor's face was aglow, and he certainly meant all he said:

"I tell you, Deerfoot, that was the greatest victory you ever won! I don't believe the man ever lived that downed Taggarak, and yet you did it without any weapon. People won't believe the story, but you can refer them to us. Ain't it lucky, now, that we happened to be where we could see you lay out that boasting chief?"

George caught at the straw thus held out by his brother.

"I tell you that's so, Deerfoot. The news of this fight is bound to get out sooner or later. Some who don't know you won't believe anything of the kind, till we tell them we saw the whole business and it was just as you say. Ain't you glad, Deerfoot, we happened by chance to be where we could see it all?"

The Shawanoe had thrust his knife into his girdle and held the switch firmly by its larger end. He looked gravely into the face of each lad while he was speaking. When they ceased he had something to say:

"When Deerfoot and his brothers left Woodvale was it not said that the Shawanoe should rule and guide them?"

"There can't be any question of that," Victor promptly replied.

"And my brothers promised to obey him in all things?"

"It seems to me I remember something of that kind."

"Has Deerfoot been a hard master?"

"We couldn't have had a kinder one. I tell you, Deerfoot, you know more in five minutes than George and I know in a month, or ever will know. We couldn't get along without you. We have been pretty obedient, as a rule, haven't we?"

"Was not the agreement between Taggarak and Deerfoot that no person should look upon the fight between them?"

"Yes; but I don't believe Taggarak kept his promise."

Deerfoot flashed a look of inquiry at Victor.

"What does my brother mean by his words? Did he see any other Blackfoot near?"

"Well, not exactly; but there were marks in the bushes which looked as if made by moccasins. I shouldn't wonder if some were hiding there and ran away when they saw us coming and knew we meant to see you had fair play."

The appeal was wasted. Deerfoot took his station between the brothers, moving them apart so they were separated by a space of five or six feet. He then deliberately, vigorously and impartially laid the switch over the shoulders of George and Victor. You would not suspect the vim with which this disciplining was carried out. Only the brothers themselves could testify feelingly as to that.

And the boys had to "grin and bear it," for there was no escape for them. It was useless to run, and had they tried it they would have been punished more severely. They were too proud to complain. The quicker-tempered Victor wanted to revolt and attack the Shawanoe, but he knew George would not join him, for such rebellion would have been disastrous to them. They had tested the ability of Deerfoot in that line too often to doubt his superiority. Had the shadow of a doubt lingered, the scene they had witnessed a few minutes before would have dispelled it.

The rod descended first upon the shoulders of Victor, then upon those of George, and there was no difference in the force of the blows. Oh, how they stung! Each boy wanted to scratch the smarting parts, but grimly stood it out. Finally Victor ventured to say:

"When you are tired, Deerfoot, you have our permission to stop."

"Tired! He won't get tired in a week. Our only hope is that he will use up all the switches in the country."

And the Shawanoe kept at it till the rod broke in the middle and only the stump was left in his hand. He flung that aside, and, without speaking, turned and walked toward the village. As soon as his face was turned the boys devoted their efforts to rubbing and scratching their arms, shoulders and backs.

"How many times do you think he struck us?" ruefully asked George.

"I guess about four thousand; but I forgot to count."

"He started in with you and ended with me, so we both got the same. Gracious alive, but he knows his business!"

"Anyhow, what we saw was worth all we had to pay. I didn't think he would do anything of the kind, did you?"

"No; I thought we might keep our visit a secret, but not many things escape his eye. I suppose after all he was right."

"Wait till these smarts let up a little before you ask me to say that," replied Victor, still rubbing and fidgeting about. "Can't you think of some way of getting even with him?"

"I wish I could, but the worst thing anyone can do is to tackle Deerfoot. We must try to believe we were lucky in getting off as lightly as we did."

"Lightly!" sniffed Victor. "I should like to know what you call heavy if that is light."

"And he is still mad at us. He went off without speaking, and it may be days before he gets over his anger."

Bye and bye the smarts so subsided that the boys felt comparatively comfortable. As they picked their way homeward their resentment cooled, and they were able to see things in their proper light. They profoundly loved and admired the young Shawanoe, and required no one to remind them of his affection for them. The punishment he had administered was like that of a father to a wayward child. Moreover, it was well deserved, and they were willing to confess the fact before they reached their tepee.

"There's no getting out of it," said the more impulsive Victor. "He forbade us to follow him, and it was breaking the agreement between him and Taggarak. The only thing for us to do when we meet him again is to say we are sorry and ask his forgiveness. I'm ready to do so. Are you, George?"

"Why didn't we try that on him before he gave us the whipping?"

"It wouldn't have worked. When I saw him cutting and trimming that switch I knew what was coming, and there was no way for us to dodge it."

"It seems pretty hard, after a fellow has had his life almost whaled out of him, to say he is sorry. It seems to me it's the other chap who ought to feel sorry."

"No, we were in the wrong and must apologize. You know how tender-hearted Deerfoot is. I believe he felt pity for Taggarak, even though he knew the chief meant to kill him. The Blackfoot isn't the first enemy Deerfoot has had at his mercy and then spared him."

When the boys reached their lodge, after meeting and greeting a number of their dusky friends, they were disappointed not to find Deerfoot there. He did not come in until late in the afternoon. He raised the robe at the door, glanced at the brothers, but kept his lips closed. Victor walked up to him without a moment's hesitation and extended his hand:

"Deerfoot, you served us right. We are both sorry. Will you forgive us?"

The two saw the moisture creep into the handsome dark eyes and noted the tremor of the Shawanoe's voice as he took each hand in turn and said:

"Yes, Deerfoot forgives you. We are brothers again."



CHAPTER XIX.

"BEHOLD HE PRAYETH."

Mul-tal-la the Blackfoot obeyed the command of Taggarak, his chief. But though he kept away from the meeting place of the duelists, he hovered not far off, in order to learn at the earliest possible moment the result of the most important personal encounter that had ever taken place in the history of the Blackfoot nation. Because of the circuitous course taken by George and Victor Shelton, Mul-tal-la saw nothing of them and never learned of the humorous appendix to the tragedy.

The sight of the Shawanoe returning told who was victor, and a few brief words between the two, as they met, made known that he had spared the life of the chief, who slunk silently off in the solitude, no one but himself knew whither. It was this flight that was on the mind of Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la, for each felt that momentous consequences were to flow therefrom.

The four friends were once more gathered in the home of the guests of the Blackfoot tribe. Each knew a crisis was at hand that might compel them, on the edge of the severe northern winter, to depart for other quarters, and the flight, perhaps, would become impossible because of the ferocious rage of the humiliated chieftain.

The Shelton brothers acted the part of listeners, sensibly feeling that they could contribute nothing to the discussion between Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot; but no speakers could have asked for more deeply interested auditors than they.

"Taggarak has not come back," said the Blackfoot. "Mul-tal-la stopped at his lodge, and his squaw said she had seen naught of him since this morning."

"She does not know what took place?" was the inquiring remark of Deerfoot.

"She could not, for he kept his word and told no one before, and," grimly added the Blackfoot, "he would not tell anyone afterward."

"What does she think?"

"That he has gone to one of the other villages. Taggarak is a silent man, and he sometimes departs in the middle of the night, without saying a word to anyone. He may be gone for weeks, and no one here will know anything of it until he returns."

"What does Mul-tal-la think?"

"He knows not what to think. If Taggarak is not here to-morrow, then he will believe the chief is visiting his other warriors."

"Does he not summon his other chiefs to come to him?"

"Often; they meet at the Big Lodge. They talk together, when they are making ready to go on raids among other tribes, and Taggarak gives them his commands; but he likes to appear in their villages when they do not look for his coming. What does my brother believe the chief will do when he comes back?"

The Shawanoe waited for a minute or two before replying:

"There is a mist in the eyes of Deerfoot and he cannot see clearly. Taggarak is brave but cruel. He will not rest under his overthrow. Deerfoot thinks they will have to fight again."

"And will Deerfoot spare him once more?"

"He cannot answer. He will do as God tells him to do."

Victor Shelton felt that this was a good time for him to add to the discussion.

"Mul-tal-la, do you think it is possible Taggarak wants to fight Deerfoot, after he has been beaten by him? Why should he want to try it again?"

"Because he has hope of winning the fight."

"He can't have any such hope. Why, Deerfoot whipped him without a weapon in his hand, while Taggarak had his big, ugly knife most of the time."

Mul-tal-la had not heard anything of this, and he looked inquiringly at Deerfoot and then at the boy who had made the amazing statement. Victor flushed and stammeringly added:

"That is—it would have been easy for Deerfoot to whip him without any weapon and with one hand tied behind his back—that is, it looks so to me and George—and I'm sure he could do it if he wished—confound it, Deerfoot, didn't you whip him as I said?"

The visitor turned to the Shawanoe, who gravely nodded his head.

"Deerfoot has told me things from the good book which he carries with him, and he said there was One who used to do some things so strange that they were called miracles."

"Yes, He did many of them."

"Then Deerfoot did a miracle if he overthrew Taggarak without the help of any weapon."

"No," modestly replied the Shawanoe, "there was no miracle. It was easier to defeat him without a weapon than with one. Deerfoot wrenched the knife from his hand and then threw him to the ground; that was all."

"That was all!" repeated the Blackfoot, as if to himself. Then he looked at the boys and the three laughed.

"Yes, that was all. George or I could have done the same, but we thought it better to turn the job over to Deerfoot. He's fond of doing such trifles," said Victor, airily.

The result of the conference was the decision that naught could be done except to await the issue of events. All feared the worst, and strove to prepare for it. The belief was that the rage in the breast of Chief Taggarak would lead him to merciless measures, not only against his visitors, but against all of his own people who had showed an inclination to embrace the new religion.

Three days passed and nothing was heard of the chief. He was still absent, and the general belief of his people that he was among the other villages averted misgiving. Only those in the secret were in dread. But the seed planted by Deerfoot began to bear fruit. Inquiries came to him, and the excitement over the religion he brought, even though subdued, spread among the warriors and women of the tribe. Finally Mul-tal-la came to him with the surprising request that he would address the Indians in the Big Lodge on the all-important subject. In making the request, Mul-tal-la the Blackfoot spoke for others. Without hesitation the Shawanoe replied that he would do as desired. He felt it was his duty, and he was the last one to shrink.

Near the middle of the primitive settlement was a structure known as the "Big Lodge." It was of the simplest build, being some forty feet in length by about half that width. It consisted of upright poles at the corners, with other supports along the sides, and a roof of boughs similar to that of the royal lodge. All the sides were open; there were no seats and no provisions for fire. Consequently the temperature was always the same as that outdoors.

It was the custom of the Blackfeet to hold their councils in this place, Taggarak being fond of summoning his chiefs and leading warriors thither, while they smoked their pipes and settled questions of state. Most of the time the barren structure was deserted.

On a bleak afternoon late in autumn, when a few inches of snow lay on the ground and the wind moaned among the leafless branches, Deerfoot the Shawanoe and the Shelton brothers wended their way to the Big Lodge. The boys paused at the edge of the assemblage and silently took their place among the listeners. They, as well as their friend, were astonished to see the crowd that had gathered. Warriors and women, with here and there a child, were seated everywhere on the bare ground, till it was hard to find room for another person. No one could fail to be impressed by the air of solemnity that shadowed each dusky face. Nearly every male and female sat with a shawl wrapped around the shoulders, for the air was biting, and no one had any protection from it except clothing. Victor whispered to his brother:

"I never expected to see anything like this. Who would have thought that the few words Deerfoot has spoken about our religion could have stirred up such deep feeling?"

An Indian scorns to betray curiosity or excitement, and only a few of the warriors and squaws looked up as the young Shawanoe picked his way through and among the multitude, who numbered several hundred, to the farther end of the space, where he turned to face the expectant listeners. He had left his rifle at the tepee, but his knife was in his girdle. To those who had slight knowledge of him he looked his simple, natural self; but George and Victor, when they scanned their friend observed a deeper flush in his face and a brighter gleam in the eyes, which revealed to them the profound emotion that stirred his soul.

Deerfoot stood for a minute, looking over the swarthy faces turned expectantly toward him. He had prayed many times for strength to meet this ordeal, and he knew he would do so.

Then he began speaking in his low, musical voice, which was clearly heard by those farthest removed. He used the Blackfoot tongue, so that only a part of his words were understood by George and Victor, and never halted or hesitated until the interruption came.

"My friends," said he, "the heart of Deerfoot is glad to tell you about the Great Spirit who is the Father of the red men as well as of the palefaces. Many, many moons ago that Father made this world; the sun that shines by day and the moon and stars that rule at night; the mountains, the woods, the rivers, the prairies, the rocks, the clouds and all that you see about you. He gave His children game to hunt, and He caused the fish to grow in the streams and the corn and fruit to spring from the ground. There was nothing that His children needed that He did not give to them.

"Was not that Father kind? Could any father be as good to his children as God was to those He put on the earth to live together? Should not those children love Him and try to live as He wished them to live? But they were wicked and did not care for Him. They fought and killed one another and did all they could to offend their Heavenly Father. They were so bad that bye and bye He turned away His face in anger. He would have slain them as they deserved, but He had a Son, good and pure like Himself. This Son took the load of all the sins of the world on his heart. He came to the earth and told the people how sad God was because they did evil. Some heeded His words, but bad men took the Son, whom we call our Saviour, because He saved us all—you and me and everybody—and they drove nails through his hands and feet, and let Him hang on two crosspieces of wood till He died the most painful of deaths. He could have killed those who treated Him so cruelly, but He chose to die so that the way would be opened for all men and women and children to come to God, who was angry no longer, because the Son had taken their place and suffered in their stead.

"The Great Spirit, whom we call God or our Heavenly Father, has made the path so straight and so free from briars that the smallest child can walk therein without harm. He wants you to become Christians and to believe in Him. A Christian is one who does all he can to make others happy. You must not go to war, and only fight when others attack you or those whom you love. You must be merciful and forgiving. Never cause anyone to suffer. Give food to the hungry, help those who have fallen to climb to their feet, take them by the hand and lead them if they are weak. Think all the time of new ways of making other persons smile. You must pray to God every morning and night and, when you have the chance, through the day. If you do this, a sweet peace, such as you have never known before, will come into your heart. You will not care for pain or hunger or thirst or suffering, for the happiness of pleasing your Heavenly Father will make you forget all these. When you die He will carry you to those blessed hunting grounds, where you shall meet all the friends who have gone on before and where you and they shall be happy forevermore."

During the utterance of this simple plea the Big Lodge was as still as the tomb. It is safe to believe that not a man or woman present failed to be impressed, for every person, savage or civilized, pagan or Christian, is profoundly interested in the most transcendant theme that can engage the human mind—the saving of man's soul and the preparation for the life to come. None other can compare with it. It is the one supreme question of the ages.

Those who looked at Deerfoot thought he had finished his address, but it was not so. George and Victor Shelton were the first to understand from his manner that something outside of the lodge had checked him. He was looking beyond the boys at some object that had made him cease speaking. The boys turned their heads to learn the meaning of the interruption. As they did so they heard some one approaching with a rapid step.

It was Taggarak, the chief, his face aflame, his stride long and rapid and his intense gaze centered on the young Shawanoe. Paying no heed to those in his way, he brushed past, overturning several and plowed straight through the crowd toward Deerfoot, who calmly awaited his coming.

Every eye was fixed upon the terrible chieftain, and hardly one of his people doubted that he meant to assail the Shawanoe. The hearts of George and Victor Shelton stood still, for they felt that a tragedy was about to open.

Instead of drawing his knife, Deerfoot placed both hands behind his back, after the idle manner of one who feels little interest in what is going on before him.

Within a couple of paces of Deerfoot, Taggarak wheeled around, and, in a voice of thunder addressed his people:

"The Shawanoe speaks with a single tongue! His words are true! The Great Spirit he tells you about is the true and only Great Spirit! Taggarak did not think so; he scorned him, but his eyes have been opened and he now sees. He has been wandering in the woods for days and nights, trying to flee from the anger of that Great Spirit. His eyes were filled with tears; he lay on his face and cried to Him; he did not eat nor drink nor sleep; but the Great Spirit, the true Great Spirit, spoke loving words to Taggarak. He raised him to his feet; He showed him that all the briars had been taken from his path. Taggarak looked around and all the darkness was gone and the sun was shining in the sky. The Great Spirit was pleased. He told Taggarak he was now His son and all shall be well with him.

"Heed the words of the Shawanoe, for they are true. Taggarak is a Christian and wishes all the Blackfeet to become Christians."



CHAPTER XX.

LIGHT IN DARKNESS.

It must not be thought that the large assemblage which had gathered in the Big Lodge were of one mind, or even that a majority were ready to accept the new religion that was explained to them by its model exemplar, Deerfoot the Shawanoe. A few yearned for the light, and had already learned enough of the elemental truths to be drawn toward them; but the majority were attracted by that potent cause—curiosity. They listened closely. The simple words of the preacher showed clearly that the new faith was the opposite of the old; that, if accepted by them, it meant a revolution in their beliefs and practices.

Most of the men and a few of the women revolted at the thought. To them the most powerful of motives in human conduct were those of revenge, of prowess in battle, and of mercilessness toward an enemy. To be told that they must root out this passion and be governed by the Golden Rule was turning themselves into squaws, and spurning that nobility which is the crowning glory of the red man's life. Their demeanor was stolid. The wise Deerfoot plainly saw, however, that his doctrine found favor with only a few. He made his appeal as clear and direct as he knew how, but he did not need to be told that he was only partially successful.

The dramatic entrance and declaration by Chief Taggarak of the "pangs of transformation" through which he had passed and his emergence into the new light could not fail to be impressive and to add to the force of what had just been said by the Shawanoe. None the less, it had also an opposite effect in some cases. The warriors who had accepted the leadership for years of one of the greatest chiefs that ever swayed the destinies of the Blackfoot people now repudiated him. He upon whom they had relied so long to lead them in battle and of whose unquestioned bravery and prodigious prowess all knew, had become a woman! But they would remain true warriors and maintain the prestige of their tribe as among the most aggressive in the Northwest.

Still Taggarak swept a number with him. Probably when he was through with his burning appeal a fifth of those present were under "conviction," and could be counted upon in favorable circumstances to become believers in the faith preached by the One who spake and taught as never man spake and taught. It may be said that a half of that number were resolute in this decision. Their sentiments were crystallized. The seed had been sown on good ground and was bearing fruit.

The young Shawanoe was tactful. For him to attempt to add anything to the words of Taggarak would be to weaken them. They were the climax, and silence was golden. Throughout the eloquent appeal of the chief, Deerfoot stood with his hands idly folded behind him, his eyes fixed upon the face of Taggarak, whose pose gave a good view of his features, and listening in the very intentness of his soul. When the chief had uttered his last word he gathered his blanket about his shoulders and strode out of the Big Lodge, looking neither to the right nor left, and again failing to notice his wife and little boy, who sat on the ground and whom he brushed as he passed into the open air. He did not glance behind, but continued his dignified, deliberate stride till he was hidden from sight among the trees beyond the cleared space.

Before this, Deerfoot, without speaking a word, picked his way through the throng, who surveyed him curiously but did not stir until he was outside. The Shawanoe glanced at George and Victor Shelton, and by a look indicated that they were to follow him. They did so, silent like the others, and the three returned to their own tepee without exchanging a word on the road. They were awed by what they had seen and heard, and respected their friend too much to break in upon his meditations. He sat down on the furs in his usual place and they busied themselves with what may be considered their household duties, speaking only now and then to each other. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and, but for the fire that was kept burning, it would have been dark within the lodge. They prepared their meal, but when Deerfoot was invited to eat he shook his head, rose to his feet and passed out.