The coachman whipped up his horses. "I reckon they hadn't better." As nobody seemed in the least alarmed, the tourist watched the approach of the Indians rather with interest than with anxiety. Nevertheless, as the redskins, on coming within a hundred yards, suddenly set up an inharmonious howling, and brandished spears or tomahawks, he thought it time to produce and examine his revolver. Just then the horses were pulled up short, and the driver took from beneath his feet a very workmanlike double-barrelled gun; and, looking round him, Weld saw that the other men were doing the same; while even the old woman and the two girls, albeit without a sign of undue excitement, had each brought out a revolver from her reticule. "That's the way to let 'em have it," said the driver, having fired off both barrels at the advancing mob. Before a second gun could be fired, the whole troop had wheeled about, and were riding away as quickly as they had come. The coachman reloaded as though nothing unusual had happened, put away his rifle, and started the horses again. "Biggest cowards on the yearth," he mumbled to Weld. "That was only a couple o' charges o' birdshot I give 'em. Bless ye, we know 'em by heart now. Years ago they'd put-up a mail, and tomahawk everybody; but nowadays they seem to run away as soon as they see a gun. If there'd only been you an' me, or nobody but women, they'd ha' tried to bluff _something_ out of us, if 'twas only a keg o' spirits, or a bit of tobacker; but half a dozen men'll frighten the lives out of 'em. One time o' day they'd send a charge of arrows first; but they're shy of that if they see any rifles waiting for 'em." This was Weld's first and only experience of an Indian assault, for the few wild tribes with which he came in contact were quite disorganised, had lost confidence in their traditional weapons of war, and had as yet a wholesome horror of gunpowder. But this absence of hostilities enabled him to get a good insight into Ojibewa forest and river life, and afforded him plenty of interesting adventure where hunting was concerned. At the lake-side inn, where he stayed for a few days, the host invited him to attend an Ojibewa rattlesnake-hunt, a form of sport of which he had never before heard. "What weapons must I take?" he asked before starting. "Oh, nothing. Put a gun (revolver) in your pocket if you like," was the careless reply.