There is no telling all that was done by the Shawanoe. He sharply pinched the glossy hide. He griped the nostrils of the steed as if to shut off his breath, but was too considerate to continue this long, since the horse seems unable to breathe through his mouth. He placed his hand and forearm over the eyes of Whirlwind as if he meant to play blind-man's buff with him. He yanked the forelock and reproached him as being of no account. The stallion did his part in the way of defense and retaliation, but he was continually handicapped by his dread of hurting his master. And yet it would seem that, recalling that other conflict, he ought to have had no such apprehension, for he had done his best on that occasion to kill the Indian youth, who was not harmed at all, and overcame the creature that possessed ten times his strength. Whirlwind showed signs of fatigue before Deerfoot did. A comparatively clear path stretched in front. Dropping from the back of the horse, the Shawanoe challenged him to a race. Bounding off at his highest bent, the youth dashed across the country with the speed of the wind. He ran as he did when on the second half of his race with Ralph Genther. Ah, Whirlwind had him now! No danger of hurting his audacious master, except so far as his feelings were concerned, and the stallion did not spare them. Despite the favorable ground, more than one boulder or bunch of matted undergrowth had to be leaped, and the two went over them like a couple of flying birds. But the steed steadily drew away from the fleet Shawanoe, who at the end of two or three hundred yards, finding himself hopelessly to the rear, gave up. "Deerfoot is only a child when he races with Whirlwind; have mercy on him." Hearing his call, the steed ceased his running, wheeled about and waited for his master to come up. Deerfoot patted him affectionately and vaulted upon his back, happy as he could be over the triumph of his matchless animal that was as well pleased as he. The journey through the Rocky Mountains was accompanied by many interesting experiences which cannot be dwelt upon. It need hardly be said that so peerless a hunter as the young Shawanoe never lacked for food. That region is still a royal one for game, and it was such to a more marked degree a century ago. Antelope, deer, bison and the famous Rocky Mountain sheep were often seen, and when Deerfoot felt the need of the food it was simple sport to obtain it. One day, while walking in front of Whirlwind, he came upon an enormous grizzly bear that seemed disposed to dispute their way. The stallion trembled with fear, but his master soothed him and prepared for a desperate fight. Deerfoot never killed an animal in wantonness, and, though he did not doubt that he could overcome this colossal terror, he preferred to make a detour of the broad pass and leave him undisputed monarch of the solitude.