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“I’m so tired and so hungry, I feel as if it didn’t make much difference what becomes of us. Our family is all gone and what’s the use?”

“Don’t talk like that,” protested Joseph. “Weren’t you the one who was swearing vengeance only a couple of hours ago?”

“I know it,” admitted Robert mournfully. “Just think, though, we didn’t have any sleep last night and we have had no food since yesterday sometime. I can’t keep this up much longer.”

“Deerfoot know where food is,” exclaimed the Indian. “We be there soon. Also can sleep too.”

He had but little sympathy with Robert’s complaints. It was a part of his training, and was bred in the blood of every Indian youth, to endure what came and not grumble. Whether he encountered good or bad fortune his attitude was the same and he always looked with contempt at what he considered the weakness of the white people if they complained of their sufferings or misfortunes. He was intensely fond of both Joseph and Robert, however, and he did not hold them personally responsible for what he regarded as a grave fault. In his heart he blamed their race.