In the first tepee his reception was very gratifying.

Little Eagle was the owner's name, and _he_ didn't care much about boots, but the decorations on these pleased his taste for the gaudy, and his eyes sparkled as he grunted his praise.
So it went around the little fishing village, until Whitey entered about the eighth tepee, and that was where Trouble was right next to him.
Inside the tent it was dark.

And Whitey didn't fall into the hole in the ice--he walked into it.

His life was not in danger, because he didn't mind a little cold water, and the Indian lying there on his stomach, with his eyes accustomed to the darkness, could see, and he quickly grabbed Whitey by the shoulders and yanked him out--but, oh! the boots! They were crinkled and soaked and water-logged and shrunken.

And it took six Indians to get them off, two pulling on each boot, and two to hold Whitey.