You have not forgotten the thrilling descent of the Falls of the Columbia, where all the skill of Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la was needed to save the canoe from being dashed upon the rocks.
"Are you going to paddle through them again?" asked Victor.
"Deerfoot does not wish to see his brother scared so bad as he was before."
"I was about to say that if you and Mul-tal-la don't feel equal to the task, George and I are ready to take it off your hands."
"The heart of Deerfoot is made glad to hear the words of his brother," replied the Shawanoe, handing his paddle to the youth. Not expecting that, Victor scratched his head and looked quizzically at George.
"Shall we show those fellows how to do such things?"
"I don't think it is worth while; they won't appreciate it."
"Deerfoot is sorry," was all that was said by the Shawanoe, as the boat was drawn out of the waters and hoisted upon the shoulders of the party.
The Shawanoe gave another illustration of his stern principles when, at the close of day, the canoe was run into shore at the point where the travelers had encamped beside the pile of lumber from which they were led to take what fuel they needed through the misrepresentation of the three Indians who called upon them. The night was one of the coldest of several weeks, and at their elbows, as may be said, was enough fuel to make them comfortable for months.
The brothers looked longingly at the mass of lumber, but did not dare touch it in the presence of their friend.