This horse was provided with a bridle, but that was all. Deerfoot, one of the finest of horsemen, never used a saddle. He said the bare back of a well-conditioned steed was more pleasant than a seat of leather, and he had never yet bestrode an animal that could displace him. On this trip the Indian youth carried as his principal weapon the handsome rifle presented by General William H. Harrison, Governor of Indiana Territory. Deerfoot had not yielded a bit of his faith in his bow, but that implement would not prove so handy as the other in an excursion on horseback. Besides, his three companions had begged him to leave his bow at home, and he was quite willing to do so. Deerfoot was dressed as he has been before described, but he carried a long, heavy blanket that was strapped to the back of his horse and served in lieu of a saddle. The powder horn and bullet pouch suspended from his neck were as full as they could carry. He looked so graceful on his animal that many expressions of admiration were heard from the people of Woodvale who had gathered to see the start. Deerfoot did not seem to hear any of the compliments, though some were addressed directly to him. He was never pleased with anything of that nature. Little need be said of Mul-tal-la, the Blackfoot, who had come from the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains on an exploring expedition of his own, and was now to return with the Shawanoe as his comrade. The sturdy, shaggy horse, which he had obtained through the help also of Simon Kenton, was accoutred like the one ridden by Deerfoot. The blanket strapped to his back was the one brought by the owner from that far-off region, and served him also as a saddle. The Blackfoot, like nearly all the Indians of the Northwest, was an excellent horseman. Through some whim, which no one understood, Mul-tal-la had named his animal “Bug,” a title so unromantic that for a long time it was never heard without causing a smile from his companions. Sometimes Mul-tal-la also grinned, but nothing could induce him to change the name. You remember the grief of Victor Shelton was so depressing over the death of his father that he surely would have gone into a decline but for the ardor roused by this proposed excursion to the Pacific. The prospect was so fascinating that he came out of the dark clouds that gathered about him, and was the most enthusiastic of the four. George was almost as deeply stirred and in as high spirits as his brother, but now and then a tremor of fear passed over him when he thought of what they would have to pass through before their return. He would have shrunk and probably turned back but for Deerfoot. There was no person in the world in whom he had such faith as in the young Shawanoe; but there is a limit to human attainment, and it might be that his dusky friend would soon reach his when the four turned their faces westward.