The Shawanoe had not reached the turn in the canyon when he made an alarming discovery. Looking to the rear he discovered fully a dozen horsemen coming toward him on a walk. They were probably a half mile off, and no doubt were pursuing him. He would not have felt any misgiving but for the instant suspicion that these Indians were Assiniboines and the other division of the party from whom he had retaken Whirlwind. They must have recognized the black stallion, and, if so, of course knew he had been captured by the Nez Perce, as they supposed him to be. On no other supposition could their action be explained. Without checking his steed, Deerfoot turned and pointed his glass at the red men. One glance was sufficient. They were Assiniboines, and no doubt those for whom the other group were waiting in the grove miles distant. Where they had come from with such suddenness was more than the Shawanoe could guess. It mattered naught since they were there, and his situation was not only unpleasant, but likely to prove dangerous. If the canyon closed he was fairly caught and would have to make a desperate fight to extricate himself. If it was open in front he had little to fear. He spoke to Whirlwind, who instantly increased his speed. The Assiniboines seemed to make no effort to lessen the distance between themselves and the fugitive. This looked bad, for it indicated that the Shawanoe was riding toward a shut door and would fall into their power like ripe fruit shaken from a limb. When Deerfoot reached the next curve in the canyon he perceived that only a little way in front it curved again. He decided at once to settle the doubt in his mind, for, if the canyon was a blind one, every rod of advance added to his danger. The walls drew steadily nearer and he began to fear that they really met not far off. If obliged to turn back he should do so without further delay. Checking Whirlwind he slipped to the ground and ran to the side of the ravine. He left his blanket on the back of the horse, and leaned his rifle against the base of the rocks, up which he began climbing with the nimbleness of a sailor ascending the rigging of a ship. His intention was to reach the level ground above, from which he could gain a view that would tell him whether it was safe to go any farther into the canyon or whether he must make instant retreat. From the foot of the mountain wall to the top was fully forty feet, and it was perpendicular all the way; but the face was so rugged that he went up without trouble, only turning a little to the right now and then to gain a better support for his hands and feet. The stallion stood motionless and watching him with what must have been wondering interest.