There had been a flurry of snow, and the weather was perceptibly colder. As they sat in their lodge after finishing their late meal, the sifting of the needle-like points against the bison hides was soothing to the ear, and the crackling wood fire gave a cheerful illumination to the interior. Reclining on the soft warm robes, they recurred to the theme that was continually in their thoughts. "I am almost sorry we ever came to this place," said George, with a sigh. "We have had an interesting experience, have made a number of friends, such as they are, though there can never be much in the way of friendship between us and these people." "How could we have spent the winter, which will be cold and severe?" asked his brother. "Deerfoot would have had no trouble in finding some cave in the rocks which we could have fitted up into as good a house as this. There are places, too, where the horses would have been sheltered from the storms, and we could gather plenty of cottonwood bark when grass was beyond reach, and thus kept the animals alive." "Perhaps that might have been done, but I don't believe it is as easy as you think. It seems to me our hope is in Deerfoot's tact. He will not listen in silence to any attack upon his faith, and when the heathen inquire of him he will answer them truly, but he has enough respect for the rank of Taggarak not to offend him when there is no need of doing so." "You see he has already sown seed, and there will be inquiries by others from him. Spink and Jiggers have been thoughtful a long time. They have spoken to others. Mul-tal-la must have done the same, though he is cautious and fears to offend the chief. All these and many others will question Deerfoot, who will answer them without thought or care, even though a hundred Taggaraks stood in his way." "Tact is a good thing, but all that I can see it is likely to do in this case is to postpone the trouble." In the midst of their gloomy talk, and with the snow still rattling against the dry bison robes of their tepee, the flap was suddenly lifted and Deerfoot the Shawanoe entered and caught the hand of each delighted boy. His face was aglow with health and pleasure, for they were no happier than he over the reunion. They slapped him on the shoulder, shook his hand again and again, and plied him with so many questions that minutes passed before there was anything like coherence in their boisterous chatter. "Where did you leave Whirlwind?" asked George, thereby implying that he had not a shadow of doubt of the success of the venture of the young Shawanoe.