Deerfoot in The Mountains

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

The youth was riding forward, glancing to the right and left, on the lookout for a suitable place for camping, when he noticed that while the ground over which he was passing was more level than usual, a high ridge loomed up on the left, rising in some places to a height of several hundred feet. After a time a similar formation appeared on the right. This showed that he was passing through a valley-like depression, but he had gone a comparatively short distance when he observed that the two mountain ranges, if such they might be considered, gradually converged. He turned to the left and at the base of the ridge dismounted.

"Here we will stay for the rest of the night," he said to Whirlwind. "Deerfoot feels that hard work is before us and it is wise to save our strength."

Since there was no saddle or bridle to be taken from the stallion, his master turned him loose, first kissing his nose and affectionately patting his neck. The horse wandered off a few steps to spend the hours by himself, while the youth laid his blanket on the ground and wrapped himself in it. No water was near, nor was there enough grass growing for Whirlwind to crop, but neither cared for a little thing like that.

Deerfoot slept soundly till roused by the licking of his cheek by his faithful friend, who was standing at his head and looking down in his face as revealed in the dim morning light. The night was gone and it had brought no alarm to either. Casting aside the blanket, Deerfoot sprang to his feet and surveyed his surroundings.

That which first attracted his attention was the convergence of the massive walls to the southeast. Less than half a mile away they came within a hundred feet of each other, thus forming one of the cañons that are common in mountainous countries. The question which Deerfoot asked himself was whether it was probable the two joined. If so, he was entering a pocket from which he would be forced to withdraw. The middle of the valley showed that at certain times, perhaps when the snows melted, a stream coursed its way through the cañon, but the water came from the front and flowed toward the horseman into the open country to the rear. Had it taken the opposite course there would have been no hesitation on his part, for he would have known that an outlet was in advance through which Whirlwind could pass. On the other hand, it might be that the ridges united and the torrent had its source in the water which poured over the rocks at the head. If this proved to be the fact, Deerfoot would be obliged to retreat and make a change of course.

His belief was that the ridges did not join and it was therefore prudent for him to go on. Two causes led him to this conclusion: the ground was favorable for the hoofs of his horse, and the course of the cañon was the direction he wished to follow. It was a small matter anyway, for an hour or two loss of time could make no special difference. He spoke to Whirlwind, who stepped off with his usual proud stride. Now that daylight had come and the ground was inviting, the steed of his own accord broke into an easy gallop, which his rider did not check.

Arriving at the farthest point visible at the moment of starting, Deerfoot found that though the walls drew somewhat closer they did not meet for at least a half mile in front, where again a change of course hid the actual truth. He was now following the black, sandy bed of a stream, packed so hard that it gave an ideal floor for a horse's hoofs.

The Shawanoe had not reached the turn in the cañon when he made an alarming discovery. Looking to the rear he discovered fully a dozen horsemen coming toward him on a walk. They were probably a half mile off, and no doubt were pursuing him. He would not have felt any misgiving but for the instant suspicion that these Indians were Assiniboines and the other division of the party from whom he had retaken Whirlwind. They must have recognized the black stallion, and, if so, of course knew he had been captured by the Nez Perce, as they supposed him to be. On no other supposition could their action be explained.

Without checking his steed, Deerfoot turned and pointed his glass at the red men. One glance was sufficient. They were Assiniboines, and no doubt those for whom the other group were waiting in the grove miles distant.

Where they had come from with such suddenness was more than the Shawanoe could guess. It mattered naught since they were there, and his situation was not only unpleasant, but likely to prove dangerous. If the cañon closed he was fairly caught and would have to make a desperate fight to extricate himself. If it was open in front he had little to fear.