One afternoon he was riding alone in front of the train, which was then making its laborious way through a series of foothills. He was in one of his moods when he wished to have no companion,――not even his favorite “younker,” Alden Payne. Suddenly from the cliffs on his right rang the sharp report of a rifle. There could be no mistaking the target, for the bowl of his briarwood pipe was shattered and sent flying into space, leaving only a stump of the stem between his lips. It may be doubted whether any incident in his stormy life had ever thrown the guide into such a rage as this occurrence. He turned his head like a flash and glared at the point from which the shot had come. He detected the faint blue wreath curling upward from behind a huge boulder and was off his horse in a twinkling. His friends saw him dash up the cliff and pass from sight. They did not check the train, but since they were following a well marked trail, were confident he would soon return. When night closed in, however, and they went into camp he was still absent. The guards were placed with the usual care and every man was on the alert. It was about midnight, when Fleming the leader heard a soft whistle from somewhere among the rocks which towered on their left. He recognized the signal and answered. The next minute Shagbark emerged from the gloom, made a few inquiries and waited until the change of the watchers took place. Then he lay down in his blanket and slept until daylight. He had not said a word about what had taken place while he was away, nor did he refer to it afterward. Alden Payne and his friends, however, noticed one peculiar fact: the hunter brought back another pipe with him. It was very different in structure from his former briarwood, being made of a species of clay baked red, and had a long reed for the stem. This he shortened to five or six inches and it served quite well as a substitute for the one destroyed. Alden was tempted to question him as to the means by which he procured it, but he had too much respect for the moods of the man to ask him any questions. The long journey through the wild mountainous regions was so free from real danger that it gave some of the company an undue sense of security. They advanced with much caution and were well guarded day and night. They believed the red men as they peered out from their hiding places were afraid to attack them. Beyond a doubt this was largely true, but Shagbark warned his friends against placing too much reliance on the fact. He reminded them that the “varmints” were as patient in waiting their chance as a pack of wolves on the track of a wounded buffalo or worn out deer.