The “bowlder,” which the umbrella seemed to be, began to move slowly backward, the men concealed by it crawfishing toward the outer lodges. “I hate dog-goned bad to have to go and leave Gorilla Jake!” said Betts. “Budt he iss dead.” “I know it, but the reward said ‘dead or alive.’” The reckless men did not get safely out of the village without trouble. When they were still some distance from the outermost lodge an Indian dog came toward them, sniffing. Suddenly the dog began to bark. “Freeze!” said Betts. “Yaw! I am a piece uff ice.” An Indian appeared and called to the yelping dog. “Wow! See that?” whispered Betts. “I am hearing idt.” Encouraged by the Indian, the dog made a barking rush at the dark umbrella. “The Injun thinks this is a bowlder,” said Betts, “but the dog knows better.” “Yaw! He knows idt mit his nose.” “Shall I let him have it?” The dog settled the question by making a furious rush upon the bowlder. The finger of Bill Betts clutched round the stock of the umbrella handle in a nervous grip; a dull click sounded, and the dog, yelping its last, fell dead in its tracks. The Ute stared in wildest astonishment, then ran to the dog, which was thirty feet or more from the bowlder. “Now he vill gome on unt seen us,” whispered the German. The mystified Indian, after stooping for a moment over the dog, advanced toward the “bowlder,” probably thinking some one was behind it, yet puzzled because he had heard no gun. The dull click sounded again, and the Indian reeled backward with a yell, his right arm dropping at his side. He yelled again; then began to run toward the dancing Indians. “The bowlder’s got to move back ag’in,” said Bill Betts. “Ye’re seein’ now the uses of a gun what don’t seem ter be a gun. I reckon this ole umbreller has saved more’n a dozen lives fer me; I’d been killed that many times if I hadn’t had it.” “Vun more life idt haf safed you to-nighdt--huh?” “You bet you! Hitch back fast’s ye kin, Schnitz; thar’ll be more Injuns whar that’n stood in a little while. He’s reached the dancers and is spreadin’ the news thar.” Some of the dancers stopped their whirling and howling and began to run toward the spot where the dog had been killed and the Ute had received a shattered arm. The injured Ute led the way, holding his bleeding arm with his left hand. “Now we haf got to make der slide.” “Yes, it’s a lively skedaddle fer us. Up goes ther umbreller. Now, jump fer it.” The umbrella closed with a snap, and the two men whom it had concealed sprang to their feet and beat a hasty retreat out of the village before the staring eyes of the astounded Utes. But the Utes, getting their wits together, followed, howling like a crazy mob. As the baron and Bill Betts leaped into the darkness beyond the farthest lodge they heard the voices of Buffalo Bill and Jim Betts. “Right this way,” said the scout. “Come a-b’ilin’, Brother Bill!” Jim Betts called. The four men came together, then beat a quick retreat.