“We’ve got our horses,” counseled one of the men. “The redskins are a pretty powerful band and we’re a long way from support. So it’s my opinion that we ought to be satisfied with our good luck and start back for camp right away.” A number of the others agreed to this; but Kit Carson said: “The thieves should be punished. Another thing, our nags are pretty well done up and we’ll have to go slowly. Our trail will show the Crows that there’s only a few of us; and they’ll pursue us. In a thing like this there’s a big chance against us; so if we can, we had better shift things around in our favor.” “How’s that to be done?” asked the trapper who had favored letting well enough alone. “We have them now just where an attack would scare them most. Let us throw a volley into their camp and charge them; they’ll start running then, and the chances are we’ll have nothing more to fear.” “Them words is words of wisdom!” declared Zeke Matthews, slapping the butt of his rifle emphatically. “Strike hard now and we needn’t be afraid later.” The trappers, an adventurous lot by nature, at once fell in with the idea. They looked to their weapons carefully; then with steps trained to softness, they stole upon the Crow camp. The fires had been allowed to die somewhat; the plumed head of a lonely guard nodded at the edge of the firelight; the sleeping warriors, laden with food, never stirred. Then suddenly a lean dog arose; his ill shaped head lifted, and he began to sniff, suspicion in every hair. Then he sprang forward, barking loudly to arouse his savage masters. Trained to awake at such an alarm, some of the Indians sprang up; and as they did so the long rifles of the trappers lifted, and a volley went whistling into the camp. CHAPTER X A DESPERATE EXPERIENCE WITH GRIZZLIES As the bullets of the trappers sang their way into the Crow encampment, the warriors began to fall; the whites stationed themselves behind trees and reloaded; and while they were doing so the savages sought the cover of the two fortified lodges which they had erected. From this shelter the arrows began to dart; but the thick tree trunks protected the trappers from their barbed heads. At early dawn the Indians saw how few in number the whites were; at once they poured forth, with tomahawk, war club and scalping knife, to crush them. But at a discharge of the rifles five of the band dropped in their tracks; the others fled into the forts once more. “I guess that’s about all we’ll hear of them,” said old Zeke, as he rammed a fresh charge of powder home and topped it with a bullet. “They ain’t got the stomachs for such work as that.” “Hold your places,” ordered Kit Carson; “they will attack again.”