"Let us not stop; Deerfoot is beginning to like it."
"That's the trouble," replied George; "you like it too much; I don't want any more; maybe Victor does."
"I'll do my own talking," replied the latter; "didn't you see me throw down my snowball? What do you 'spose I did that for?"
"Didn't you throw it at Deerfoot?" asked the Shawanoe. "The shot came as near hitting him as some of those you threw."
"We'll take up the fight again some time," was the vague promise of Victor, panting from his exertion.
"Deerfoot hopes you will do so."
But the good-natured contest was never renewed. Not again could the lads expect to have such a golden opportunity, and their defeat was so decisive that they knew better than to repeat it.
The labor of the return grew heavier as they progressed, and the time came when it was so hard to make headway against the powerful current that the effort was given up. The last few miles became a real portage, though when our friends were descending the river the passage could not have been easier.
And so in due time the four reached the Nez Perce village, where they had left their horses and some of their property. Henceforth the journey to the Blackfoot country was to be made by land. The former task had proved one of the severest of their lives, and glad indeed were all when it was over.