He returned and in the same manner picked up the other garment belonging to Victor and started to lay that also at his feet. After a single pace he stopped, shook his head and flung the article back where it had been lying. “That isn’t quite dry enough,” said the wondering and laughing owner. “I wonder how it is with your clothes, George.” Precisely the same thing was repeated with the underclothing belonging to George Shelton. One garment was dry, but the other retained a little dampness, which, however, would soon disappear. “Don’t ask him to do anything more,” said Victor; “I shall be scared. It does seem that such animals should have souls.” “Deerfoot is sure they have,” replied the Shawanoe with deep feeling. Deerfoot now told Whirlwind to leave them for the time. He strolled off to the more abundant growth of grass on the other side of the trail. The three watched him amusedly, and noticed that he kept apart from the other horses. He was a born aristocrat, and always would remain so. Zigzag was munching and looked up at the stallion, as if he felt like renewing the acquaintance that had not been of a very pleasing character. He kept an eye on Whirlwind, and when he began cropping the grass Zigzag had the temerity to try to join him. Before he reached the stallion, however, he received too plain a hint to disregard. Whirlwind deliberately faced the other way, thus placing his heels toward the horse, so as to be ready for use when Zigzag came within reach. The latter paused, looked reproachfully at Whirlwind, and then solemnly walked back to his former companions. The snubbing was as emphatic as the former and was sufficient. A few minutes later Mul-tal-la came in sight and joined his friends. All sat down on the boulders and exchanged experiences. Deerfoot had little to tell that was of interest. He was not disturbed by the cloudburst, and his occupation while absent from his friends had been, as he stated, the looking after and training of Whirlwind. The animal recovered from his lameness sooner than his master expected, and the latter could have rejoined his companions sooner, but he spent hours in “getting acquainted” with his prize and in training him to understand the words spoken to him. It has already been told that some of the commands of Deerfoot were uttered in a mixture of languages, or rather in no language at all, the object being to throw difficulties in the way of anyone who might possibly gain possession of the stallion for a time. The Blackfoot gave it as his belief that they would have no further trouble with people of his own race. They were approaching the Blackfoot country, and, though some of the tribes through whose grounds they must yet pass warred with one another, there was no hostility between any of them and the Blackfeet, unless it had broken out during the absence of Mul-tal-la, which was not likely.