Deerfoot in The Mountains

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Perhaps the Assiniboine suspected the meaning of the call, for he darted forward and seized the forelock. Whirlwind instantly reared, and with a single blow of his hoof knocked the red man senseless. He did not kill him, but it is safe to conclude that when the Assiniboine regained his senses he knew a good deal more than he ever knew before.

The waiting Shawanoe heard the sound of hoofs, and a minute later saw the form of the stallion as he galloped up and paused with his nose thrust forward, asking for another caress.

He received it and in his mute way expressed his own pleasure at being with his master again. The danger was not yet over, and the Shawanoe deferred further petting until the opportunity was more fitting. Resting one hand upon the neck of the stallion he leaped lightly astride of him, still keeping the blanket about his own shoulders, for the night was keen and the horse did not need the protection.

Whirlwind yearned to stretch his limbs and speed away with his master on his back. But it would have been unsafe. After leaving the vicinity of the lake the country was rough, and in the darkness the surest-footed horse was liable to fall. Moreover, there was no need of haste.

So the stallion passed out into the night at his usual graceful walk, while his rider for the time listened and peered into the darkness behind him for sound or sight of the Assiniboines who would have given much for a chance to revenge themselves upon the daring youth that had outwitted them.

At the end of half an hour Deerfoot slipped from the back of his steed and pressed his ear to the earth. If the Assiniboines were following and were near he would learn the fact through this better conductor of sound. He heard nothing and once more vaulted upon Whirlwind.

Relieved for the time of all cause for fear, Deerfoot now gave grateful attention to the proud stallion that was bearing him southward. He first tested his recollection of the words of command which he had taught him, and which you will remember were in a peculiar language known only to the two. Whirlwind proved his excellent memory by promptly responding to every order addressed to him. Then the Shawanoe guided him by pressure of his knees, and by a certain manner of striking the heels of his moccasins against his sides. The result could not have been more satisfactory.

"Whirlwind is a bad horse," said Deerfoot, feeling that it was time to have a little sport with him. "He ran away from Deerfoot on purpose. If he had had any sense he would have left the Assiniboines and set out to find Deerfoot instead of making Deerfoot travel so far to find him."

It would be absurd to pretend that a horse, even with the rare intelligence of Whirlwind, could grasp the meaning of these words. However, he understood the sharp pinch which his master gave him on the side of his neck, followed by a brisk slap with his hand. The stallion reached his head around and nipped at the leg of Deerfoot, who drew it back and flipped the nose of the animal.

Then Whirlwind flung his head around his other shoulder and snapped at the leg on that side, which was hardly snatched out of the way in time to escape. Deerfoot gently smote the nose to remind the steed that with all his strength and wisdom the youth was still his master. Thus they parried and played and plagued each other until Deerfoot, with that curious refinement of cruelty which we often show to those we love most, pretended to be offended.