The Indian jumped to his feet as if he had been a jumping-jack. His pipe fell to the ground and broke into a thousand bits while he stared at Joseph with startled eyes. For once he forgot to mask his feelings.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Joseph in amazement.
“Me thought you dead,” said Deerfoot in an awestruck voice.
“Not at all. I’d just as lief be, though.”
Deerfoot stared and stared at his young friend as if he could not believe his eyes. Finally he apparently convinced himself that it was no apparition that he saw, and his gaze shifted to the horse Joseph rode. Once more he started perceptibly. “Where you get that pony?” he demanded.
“I captured him.”
“Where his rider?”
“He’s dead.”
“You shoot him?” asked Deerfoot.
“Yes.”