THUS the noble black stallion was named. If ever a person felt proud of his prize it was Deerfoot, the Shawanoe. The wild horse had been literally cut out from the herd of which he was monarch and made captive by the dusky youth. The battle between the two was a fair one, and the Indian was the victor, and never was a more striking victory won.

Deerfoot, however, knew that his work was not yet done, though he had made fair progress with it. He must win the affection of the creature, or all that had been previously done would go for naught.

Since the Shawanoe never made use of a saddle, his blanket serving that purpose, and since also there was none at command, no suggestion was offered him in that respect. Victor Shelton, however, took upon himself to say:

“You will have to bridle him, and he will fight that.”

The captor shook his head.

“So long as Deerfoot lives Whirlwind shall not wear saddle or bridle. He shall be ruled by kindness, as all animals should be ruled.”

“Well, if anyone can do it, you’re the chap, but it will be as big a job as teaching him that you’re his master.”

The Shawanoe improved every minute. He continually spoke soothingly to the stallion, patted his neck and sides, and never lost patience with his restlessness. By and by the youth approached and in the gentlest manner possible spread his blanket over the glossy coat, not yet dry from the moisture caused by his determined fight. Whirlwind shied and for some minutes would not permit the liberty, but after a time suffered himself to be persuaded. The blanket was held in place only by the weight of Deerfoot, who bestrode it. Then, rifle in hand, he urged the steed forward, and he responded somewhat uncertainly.

One thing interested and amused our friends from the beginning. Whirlwind did not hesitate to show his contempt for the common horses around him. The snubbing given to the presumptuous Zigzag was no more marked than his feeling toward the others. Had they invited the rebuff, it would have been as decisive as the one described, but they knew enough to keep their distance. When cropping the grass at the noon halt, the stallion did so at some distance from the others, and it may be added that at night Deerfoot humored his aristocratic prejudices by allowing him to “flock by himself.” He would have nothing to do with any of his species, further than a captured prince is obliged to come in contact with his inferiors.

Toward Mul-tal-la and the Shelton brothers the steed was indifferent. While he displayed no ill will to them, he exhibited no special friendship. If they approached with caresses he permitted the liberty, but it gave him no pleasure, and he would have been quite content if they kept their distance and left him to himself.

It was different, however, regarding Deerfoot. No animal living is quicker to recognize his master, or to know when an incompetent has him in charge, than a horse. To his last day Whirlwind would vividly remember that desperate struggle in which he was thrown and subdued by the matchless youth. There must have been a feeling akin to respect, mingled perhaps with fear, toward the victor who had done what was never yet done to Whirlwind by man or animal.

This sentiment may be considered the foundation upon which Deerfoot set to work to build the friendship, the trust and the affection of the magnificent brute. It was a task demanding limitless patience, prudence, tact and skill; but the Shawanoe possessed all those virtues, and he called them into play. While riding in advance of his companions he set out to teach Whirlwind to understand and obey his commands. In this task he showed a peculiar shrewdness which I cannot help believing would not have occurred to another.

When he wished the stallion to turn to the right or left, he employed two methods. The pressure of the right knee meant that Whirlwind should turn in that direction, and of the left knee that he should take that course; the pressure of both knees that he should increase his pace, the increase to be added to so long as the pressure was repeated, the same as if he were pricking his sides with his spurs.

Now, all these methods are in use at the present day and have been from time immemorial, so there was nothing noteworthy in them. But Deerfoot had a word or synonym for each, as he had for several other commands, and which he taught his steed after a time to obey with equal promptness. These words were not English, but a mixture of Shawanoe and Blackfoot, accompanied by sounds that were original with himself.

His reason for adopting this plan was to prevent anyone else knowing how to control Whirlwind. It might come about that at some time in the future the animal would fall temporarily (Deerfoot would not allow himself to believe it could ever be permanently) into the possession of some one else. That person, not knowing the code of the Shawanoe and the stallion, would be at great disadvantage. The trick was worthy of the Shawanoe.

While leading the advance the youth held little or no communication with his friends; his whole interest was in the instruction of Whirlwind, and he gave his skill to that. The stallion possessed a fine grade of intelligence, much above that of the animals plodding behind him. Deerfoot was not long in discovering that his horse was pretending to a dullness that was not real. But the time came when the kind patience of the youth made its impression, and the steed responded with a quickness that delighted Deerfoot. Thenceforward his progress was so rapid that it astonished the Blackfoot and the boys.

The party were now journeying almost due north. The guide would have insisted upon this change of route had it not been made by Mul-tal-la, because he was not wholly free of the fear of the reappearance of the herd of wild horses which had deserted their chief that morning. A troublesome if not dangerous complication was more than probable in such an event. Every mile, therefore, that the travelers progressed made the meeting less likely, and, I may as well say, it never took place.

While there was no lack of pasturage for the animals, the men and boys were not always so fortunate. At that time the country through which they were journeying abounded with elk, deer, antelopes, wild turkeys, grouse and beaver, and the streams were stocked with pike, bass, salmon-trout, catfish, buffalo fish, perch and other fish, including a species of shrimp, yet these were not always within reach. Some of the game mentioned were scarce in one section and plentiful in another, and, although they often showed themselves in the distance, were often shy and fled upon the first approach of a hunter. Instinctively they feared man, and the raids of the Indians taught them lessons that were not forgotten.

When at noon a halt was made on the bank of a small, winding, sluggish stream that found its way into one of the branches of the Platte, the boys tried their luck at fishing. It need not be said that several hooks and lines were in their outfit. The couple were not rewarded with a single bite. Then Mul-tal-la took up the task with no better success. Finally Deerfoot was appealed to, for, as you know, the brothers believed he could do anything within the range of human possibility. He carefully baited his hook with angleworms and seized the occasion to remark:

“Mul-tal-la and my brothers are small children. They are slow to learn. Let them watch Deerfoot and he will teach them how to bring fish from the water.”

He whirled the line, weighted with a pebble, out to the middle of the creek, and was so confident of quickly drawing in some sort of fish that he did not squat down as the boys and Mul-tal-la had done. The three stood around and looked wishful, though had they not been so a-hungered they would have been glad to see the Shawanoe make the failure they had made.

By and by the boys began to make remarks:

“I like to see Deerfoot yank out the fish just as soon as he throws in his hook,” was the first observation of George, made within five minutes after the pebble had sunk from sight.

“He’s waiting to catch two at a time. He knows how hungry we are, and I shouldn’t wonder if he feels that way himself,” added the grinning Victor.

“Maybe some of the fish saw him throw out the line, and have gone off to bring up their friends, so as to give him a good show.”

“Don’t catch too many, Deerfoot. We don’t need more than fifty or a hundred.”

Mul-tal-la said nothing, but his teeth showed. He was enjoying the quiet fun. The Shawanoe acted as if he heard nothing. The line rested lightly in his fingers, which were so delicately poised that he was sure to feel the slightest tug or twitch, and he kept his eyes on the surface of the turbid stream.

Suddenly he gave a jerk and rapidly hauled in the line, hand over hand. When the hook came creeping out of the current the bait was gone, and no fish was in sight.

The brothers snickered.

“Did you ever know of meaner fish?” asked Victor; “that hook was fast in his gills, but he twisted it loose. It wasn’t fair. I hope Deerfoot doesn’t feel bad.”

“I saw something like the tail of a fish as he flirted off,” added George. “I guess he doesn’t know who is fishing—that is, who is trying to fish.”

Never a word did Deerfoot speak. He baited his hook with the utmost care, and in obedience to an old superstition which prevailed even at that day among fishermen, spat upon the bait before casting it into the water.

“Ah, that’ll fetch ’em!” exclaimed George, smacking his lips in anticipation of the coming feast. “No fish can refuse such a bait as that.”

All the same they did refuse it. Though the Shawanoe waited patiently for a full half hour and once or twice felt something toying with the hook, he caught nothing. Finally he drew in the line and wound it up.

“My brothers talked so much they scared the fish away,” he remarked. “We shall have to wait till to-night or to-morrow or next week for food.”

The dismay on the faces of the brothers gave Deerfoot his turn at merriment. They knew he was able to go a day or two without food and not seem to mind it. With them, however, it was different, but seemingly there was no help for them. They accepted the situation with the best grace possible, which was poor enough.

Meanwhile the horses were cropping the juicy grass, Whirlwind by himself and the others herding together. All had had a good rest, and the party now gathered together for their journey, which was pressed as before, Deerfoot in the lead, talking with and giving instructions to Whirlwind. The weather became perceptibly colder, as if from the proximity of the snow-covered peak and the lofty range of mountains that stretched beyond the limit of their vision.

About the middle of the afternoon Whirlwind showed a slight limp. It was so slight, indeed, that no one noticed it except Deerfoot. He instantly checked the stallion, slipped off his back and made an investigation. The cause was apparent: the left knee showed signs of swelling. That was the leg whose ankle the Shawanoe had gripped and imprisoned for a minute or two during the fight in the morning. In falling violently the knee had been injured, but to so small an extent that this was the first evidence of any such thing.

The hunters and trappers, when absent on their long excursions in the mountains and solitudes, were, of course, without the means of shoeing their animals, and it need not be said that Whirlwind’s hoofs had never been thus shielded. This was a small matter, for the protection was not needed. Moreover, the outfit of our friends contained nothing in the nature of liniment, ointment, unguent or even grease that could be used in an emergency like the present. Deerfoot was without any medicament that could be applied to the knee of the stallion. All he could do was to give it rest and leave the healing to nature. That he instantly decided should be done.

“Let my brothers go on. When Whirlwind is well Deerfoot will join them,” he said, addressing the three.

“How far shall we go?” asked George.

“My brothers will go as far as they can. Deerfoot will find them when Whirlwind is able to walk without pain. It may be one, or two or three days, but Deerfoot will have no trouble, for the trail will be plain.”

The Shawanoe and Blackfoot talked for a few minutes in order to perfect an understanding, and then the three rode off, leaving Deerfoot alone with Whirlwind, to whom he gave his full attention.

No mother ever passed her cool hand across the fevered brow of her child more lovingly than did the young Shawanoe fondle the sensitive knee of the mettled steed. The latter did not twitch or resent the caress, for the magnetism of the touch, its gentleness and the soothing words were worth more than any medicinal oil could have been. The soft, cool palm slid over the silken hair like the brush of down. The motion was always toward the hoof and never up the limb “against the grain.” Sometimes, while one hand was thus employed, the other patted the nose that was bent down in acknowledgment of the kindness.

When finally Deerfoot stepped back and straightened up, Whirlwind stood firmly on all his legs. Had his master called for it, he would have galloped off with hardly a perceptible limp.

But Deerfoot had no such thought. That knee should not be permitted to go into service until as strong and sound as the other. While the injury was insignificant, it was sure to become worse through unwise treatment. All that was necessary was to give nature a chance; she always strives to right such matters, and the most that medical skill can do is to help, and all too often the effort proves a hindrance rather than an aid.

The downy rubbing was repeated at intervals and did much good. Whirlwind showed his appreciation by lowering his head and resting his nose on the shoulder of the stooping Deerfoot, whose heart responded to the caress. He felt that they had become real friends.

Some time later he coaxed Whirlwind to lie down. The stallion was reluctant at first, for a horse dislikes to do this except when tired out, and then he is often satisfied with rolling on his back, but he yielded. Then Deerfoot plucked several handfuls of grass, cutting off the roots with his knife, and fed them to his friend, who ate probably to please him, for surely he could not have been hungry.

Now and then the knee was tenderly kneaded, and certainly improved, if indeed it was not already cured. When at last the chilly night closed in, the young Shawanoe lay down beside Whirlwind, so arranging the blanket that it covered both, and their bodies were mutually warmed by the contact. Physician and patient were doing well, thank you.