One night after supper Kit drew the boys aside. From beneath his hunting shirt he drew a small, pointed stick, notched here and there in a peculiar manner. “What is it?” asked Dave. “As we left the last line of traps this afternoon,” said Kit, “I saw Shunan lag behind and then drop back among some trees. There were six of us; but I said nothing to the others. A little later, after Shunan rejoined us, I made believe I’d sighted a small buck and started off, away from the river. When I got out of sight, I changed my course, heading back toward the place where I’d seen Shunan disappear. Hunting around, I saw Indian signs in plenty; and then I saw this,” holding up the wand, “sticking in the ground.” “A message!” said both boys in a breath. Kit nodded. “Yes; and I’ll venture there was one waiting for him from Williams or the redskins.” After this they kept a stricter watch than ever upon the Frenchman; but he seemed to be entirely interested in the work of trapping and curing furs, and not once did they detect him in any further communication with the savages. “They’ve come to some kind of an understanding,” said Kit, after a time. “And he’s waiting for a certain time to come around. Like as not it’s the spring; for it’s too late to jump out now and try to get back to Santa Fé. Winter’d overtake them.” Winter came on at last, the streams were frozen and the trappers gave up their labors. They left the Blackfoot country determining to winter in a more friendly section. A band of Crows guided them to a sheltered valley, and the two parties camped side by side during the severe months. The Crows were mostly young warriors, and splendidly athletic; in good weather they arrayed themselves against the white men in games of strength and skill; hunting was the favorite test, but horsemanship, running and leaping, were also well liked. In these contests the boys grew very intimate with a stalwart young brave whose name was Tall Thunder. One night they sat beside him at a lodge fire in the Crow camp; a number of the young warriors were also present, but they rarely spoke, knowing little of the white man’s language. Tall Thunder, however, could make himself understood without much difficulty. He related many of his hunting exploits, and some of the deeds of his tribe in their wars with the Blackfeet. “Your English is good,” praised Joe. “How did you learn it?” “Um--much teach!” explained Tall Thunder. “Half-breed speak much Englees. Him Spotted Snake.” The boys looked at each other. Here was verification of the story of old Diaz, the trader at Santa Fé, and of the news gathered by Shunan. Lopez, or Spotted Snake, was, or had been, in the northern wilderness. “Do you know where Spotted Snake is now?” asked Dave. “Um! Crow village--four suns. Live like chief!”