As he had supposed, Mul-tal-la and the boys did not remain idle after the Shawanoe’s hurricane departure. Hardly had he vanished in the horizon when the three set out to follow him, pressing their animals hard. While it cannot be said that they were free from anxiety for their friend, they were not much alarmed. There could be no after-contest that would be fiercer than that which had taken place under their very eyes, and they had come to ask one another whether there was any situation in which the young Shawanoe would not be well able to take care of himself. At every few paces George Shelton brought his glass into use and scanned the prairie in advance, not forgetting to bestow a glance now and then in other directions, for there was no saying what whim would control the black stallion. “I see them!” suddenly called George. “They are coming this way!” “Is Deerfoot on the horse?” “Of course; you don’t suppose he would walk, do you?” “I didn’t know but that the stallion was so tired Deerfoot would have to carry him,” was the innocent answer. “Let me have a squint.” Victor and Mul-tal-la each descried the animal, but since he was in a direct line and held his head high it was some minutes before they could make sure that the Shawanoe was on his back. It was the Blackfoot who announced that he was riding the captured horse at a walk. But Deerfoot had descried his friends before this, and he now showed his mastery over the animal by forcing him to a moderate gallop, which was kept up till the two parties had come within a few rods of each other. Then the stallion stopped and showed renewed excitement. It was due to the nearness of the other horses, whom he did not like, and he repelled a closer acquaintance. Three of the animals were indifferent and displayed no curiosity, but Zigzag seemed to think he was excepted from the disfavor of the captive. He pointed his nose toward him, whinnied, and then advanced rapidly. Mul-tal-la was about to interfere when Deerfoot called to him not to do so. The Shawanoe did all he could to quiet his horse, but with the light of mischief in his eyes watched the meeting between the two brutes. Zigzag came right on, with nose thrust out, as if he intended to kiss the other, who grew more and more displeased. Suddenly the stallion whirled around—his rider not trying to restrain him—and let fly with both heels, which, had they landed fairly, would have injured Zigzag, but a portion of the bulging pack interposed. Zigzag was sent backward for several steps, and so shaken that he was disgusted. The snubbing was too direct to be misunderstood, and he sullenly wheeled and rejoined his own friends, quite content to leave the aristocratic interloper to himself.