"You are husky-looking youngsters," added Captain Clark, from his place beside his associate, as he looked admiringly at the two lads.
"Where did you spend the winter?" continued Lewis.
"In the Blackfoot country, to the northwest. We reached there last autumn and stayed until a few weeks ago."
"I need not ask you if you were well treated, for your looks show that."
"They were all our friends. We should have perished so far north had we not found refuge among them."
"But we are forgetting our hospitality. We will have your horses looked after. Come over by the camp for supper, which will soon be ready. That is the finest horse I ever saw. Which of you is his owner?"
"He belongs to Deerfoot."
"Where did he get him?"
"Last year the Shawanoe's horse was hurt so badly that he had to kill him. Soon after we came across this stallion and Deerfoot managed to capture and tame him."
"He looks as if he might have been the king of a drove."