Jack Halloway listened with close interest, for the story was remarkable. He sagely remarked, however, that if the boys had been so greatly benefited the wisest thing to do was for the three to turn back and allow the Blackfoot to finish his journey alone.
“I jedge from what I’ve heerd that you’re a powerful cute Injin and know that, though you’re a good many miles from St. Louis, you ain’t half way to the Pacific yit. I’ve never been there myself, but I know ’nough of the mountains and Injins to know that the job is the biggest thing in all creation. Depend upon it, Shawanoe, you’ll never get home onless you turn back now!”
This was said with great earnestness, the trapper nodding his head and slapping his knee with his palm.
“The words of my brother are wise, but it would sadden the hearts of my brothers if we went home, and he who was ill would become ill again and die.”
“See here, younker, own up now; it’s you who’d feel the worst.”
And to help make his meaning clear, Jack Halloway leaned over and thrust his thumb into the ribs of Deerfoot and chuckled. The Shawanoe could not help smiling.
“Deerfoot can never be happy till he looks upon the face of the great water that lies far toward the setting sun. He must go on.”
“Wal, you’re boss of the job, as I can see from what you say, but I want to tell you one thing that you don’t know.”
“There are many things that Deerfoot doesn’t know.”
The trapper glanced around, as if afraid of being overheard, and then lowered his voice almost to a whisper as he leaned toward him: