In the shifting blaze of the stacks, the body of horsemen who suddenly shot from among the trees seemed to be at least a thousand; in reality, there were between eighty and a hundred; some belonging to this camp, but the majority of them braves from the Cascade or other mountains, whom the messengers had hurriedly collected. The unarmed miners huddled together, shivering or cursing; while the seamen, with their rifles "shouldered," stood in a single line between them and the advancing savages. At a sign from the chief, the horsemen drew up and a palaver began. "Come on. You and I'll take a hand in this," said Mayne. "They seem to be in doubt. Where's our interpreter?" He and the surgeon walked over to the chiefs, and, for some time, it seemed as though there certainly would have to be bloodshed; for the Indians who had come from a distance wanted value for their money, and were not disposed to hear reason. But presently the interpreter cut into the conversation, reminding the chiefs that the "warriors with no hair on their faces" had easily subdued a large body of white men; and that, only ten miles away, there were "braves in red coats, with hair on their upper lips," as well as a large number of miners, who would take a speedy vengeance on them. "Tell them, also," said Mayne, "that unless they agree to keep the peace, I shall give the miners their weapons again, and we shall fight for _them_." His heart was "in his mouth" as he uttered this high-sounding threat; for, of course, he no more dared do such a thing than he dared head a mutiny on board his ship. It was a chance shot; but it carried the day. A buzz of conversation arose among the Indians of the camp. Set those white fiends about their ears again? They would fight their own allies first. An agreement was speedily arrived at, and Mayne marched both sailors and prisoners back to the white camp.