There was a sound as though one of the speakers had risen from his place. Buffalo Bill cast his mind quickly over the situation. The suggestion that a bear might be lurking about the sidehill seemed the most reasonable. A bear is notably a blundersome beast, and the wind was not from the ambushed redskins. The scout grasped the idea. He sent another small avalanche of gravel down the slope, and then floundered a bit in the brush. His ability to imitate the voices of birds and animals was very keen; but it is not easy to imitate the gruff, startled “woof!” of the marauding bear. However, he essayed it and then stamped away up the hill through the brush, making a deuce of a clatter till he reached an open space. He hoped that the reds would take his play-acting in good faith; yet he could not help having his doubts. He considered that, had he been in their place, he would have felt strong doubt regarding the validity of the sound, and would have investigated. Therefore he slipped behind an enormous tree trunk at the edge of this opening and waited to see if the supposed bear would be followed. Minute after minute passed, and a deathlike silence reigned upon the hillside. Buffalo Bill was wasting time, but he was too wary to approach closer to the Indians--near enough to learn their numbers at least--until he was assured that his first mistake had not borne perilous fruit. Sharp as his hearing was, however, he did not hear a footfall, or a breath; yet of a sudden a figure was silhouetted before him against the open space in the forest. An Indian stood there with folded arms, his back to the scout, and facing the clearing! One of the reds whom Cody had disturbed was not satisfied with the imitated retreat of the frightened “bear.” He had come to investigate and stood now almost within striking distance of the scout. But the latter feared to shoot him, of course; nor did he trust to a fling of his tomahawk, or knife. There were too many uncertainties about either of those methods of removing the redskin. To steal from behind the tree and spring upon him was another difficult thing, for the ground was strewn with rustling leaves and twigs, and the scout feared to announce his approach. To his disgust, too, the Indian turned and began searching about the edge of the forest. Cody saw him step cautiously behind two trees and stick the muzzle of the old-fashioned musket he bore into a brush-clump. The red was trying to learn if the creature that had made all that “catouse” was still in the vicinity. Instantly the scout glanced about in the gloom for a means of hiding himself more surely. In a minute the red would come his way.