“Did you ever know of meaner fish?” asked Victor; “that hook was fast in his gills, but he twisted it loose. It wasn’t fair. I hope Deerfoot doesn’t feel bad.” “I saw something like the tail of a fish as he flirted off,” added George. “I guess he doesn’t know who is fishing—that is, who is _trying_ to fish.” Never a word did Deerfoot speak. He baited his hook with the utmost care, and in obedience to an old superstition which prevailed even at that day among fishermen, spat upon the bait before casting it into the water. “Ah, _that’ll_ fetch ’em!” exclaimed George, smacking his lips in anticipation of the coming feast. “No fish can refuse such a bait as _that_.” All the same they did refuse it. Though the Shawanoe waited patiently for a full half hour and once or twice felt something toying with the hook, he caught nothing. Finally he drew in the line and wound it up. “My brothers talked so much they scared the fish away,” he remarked. “We shall have to wait till to-night or to-morrow or next week for food.” The dismay on the faces of the brothers gave Deerfoot his turn at merriment. They knew he was able to go a day or two without food and not seem to mind it. With them, however, it was different, but seemingly there was no help for them. They accepted the situation with the best grace possible, which was poor enough. Meanwhile the horses were cropping the juicy grass, Whirlwind by himself and the others herding together. All had had a good rest, and the party now gathered together for their journey, which was pressed as before, Deerfoot in the lead, talking with and giving instructions to Whirlwind. The weather became perceptibly colder, as if from the proximity of the snow-covered peak and the lofty range of mountains that stretched beyond the limit of their vision. About the middle of the afternoon Whirlwind showed a slight limp. It was so slight, indeed, that no one noticed it except Deerfoot. He instantly checked the stallion, slipped off his back and made an investigation. The cause was apparent: the left knee showed signs of swelling. That was the leg whose ankle the Shawanoe had gripped and imprisoned for a minute or two during the fight in the morning. In falling violently the knee had been injured, but to so small an extent that this was the first evidence of any such thing. The hunters and trappers, when absent on their long excursions in the mountains and solitudes, were, of course, without the means of shoeing their animals, and it need not be said that Whirlwind’s hoofs had never been thus shielded. This was a small matter, for the protection was not needed. Moreover, the outfit of our friends contained nothing in the nature of liniment, ointment, unguent or even grease that could be used in an emergency like the present. Deerfoot was without any medicament that could be applied to the knee of the stallion. All he could do was to give it rest and leave the healing to nature. That he instantly decided should be done.