“You not catch him when he ride that pony,” said the Indian decidedly.
“No,” said Joseph, “he caught me.” He proceeded to tell Deerfoot of his encounter on the prairie and how he had finally shot his pursuer. “You act as though you had seen this pony before, Deerfoot,” he added.
“Sure that The Swallow,” said Deerfoot quietly.
“The Swallow?” repeated Joseph. “How does it happen that you know his name and recognized him when you saw him?”
“Everyone know that pony,” replied Deerfoot.
“Why do they?” Joseph demanded.
“He fastest horse in country.”
“What!” exclaimed the young frontiersman. “The fastest horse in the country, you say? What do you mean?”
“He called The Swallow,” said Deerfoot. “He run as fast as swallow fly.”
“Whew!” whistled Joseph in amazement. “It looks as though I had found a pretty good horse, doesn’t it? Who owned him?”