Deerfoot in The Mountains

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

"GOOD-BYE."

The remainder of the homeward journey was without special incident. It was several days before Victor Shelton fully recovered from the pounding caused by his fall into the torrent. The loss of his rifle was keenly felt, but he did not fret, for it would have been ungrateful after his marvelous escape.

Jack Halloway's spirits were irrepressible, and his good nature was like so much sunshine. The only fault to be found with him was his inclination to burst into song, without waiting for urging on the part of his friends. He was gifted with a tremendous voice, but unfortunately he had no more idea of a tune than a grizzly bear. But no one could criticize the fellow, who was the life of the little party.

The course of our friends was southeast, leading through the present States of Wyoming, Colorado and into Kansas, where they struck the trail of the year before. This was followed across Missouri, and, without mishap, all four reached in due time that old French town on the Mississippi.

Deerfoot and the boys stayed there for one night and a part of a day. It was a visit which they always remembered. The only fly in the ointment was the discovery by Jack Halloway that Dick Burley, after all, had broken his promise. He had not been in St. Louis twenty-four hours when he sauntered down to French Pete's place. That worthy met him with a grin, supposing he had come to make his report, whose nature was not doubted. Then Dick, after denouncing the fellow as he deserved, proceeded to business in as emphatic a fashion as Jack had done the preceding year. He was equally thorough, perhaps more so, for he not only left the place a wreck, and the proprietor senseless, but "laid out" two brawlers who happened to be present and were imprudent enough to try to help the landlord.

"I've one hope," said Jack, in telling of the incident. "Pete will start up agin and then it'll be my turn to make a friendly call on him."

In that humble home, on the upper margin of the straggling town of St. Louis, Jack Halloway introduced George and Victor Shelton and Deerfoot to his mother. She was a sprightly little lady, who could not have weighed a hundred pounds, and whose soft, wavy, white hair and pink cheeks and regular features spoke of the unusual beauty that was hers when she was the belle of the town. She had a serene beauty and winsomeness that warmed the hearts of the callers from the moment they first saw her.

As soon as the introductions and greetings were over, Jack caught his mother in his arms and tossed her as high as the ceiling would permit, catching her as she descended and kissing her as if she were a little child. Then, waving the others to seats, he dropped into the single rocking chair and held her on his knee during the conversation that followed. Her soul was wrapped up in this massive boy with the strength of a giant, and her happiness over his restoration to her after her years of prayer had a pathos and sweetness that nothing else in all the world could give.

When the chatter had gone on for a few minutes Jack drew his mother's face down beside his own and whispered:

"Did you ever see as handsome a chap as that young Indian sitting over there in the corner? Look how modest he is, as if he didn't wish to be noticed. Didn't you remember, when I told you his name is Deerfoot, that he's the chap that made me throw away my flask of whiskey and was the cause of my becoming a man?"