He knew that the Navajos were a peaceful tribe, as Indian tribes went, and he wondered what had sent them on the warpath, till suddenly he remembered the attack on the cabin Jesse had repulsed just before he had made his race for life from the Vigilantes, and it occurred to him that perhaps these were some of the same bucks seeking revenge. If such should be the case, it would never do for him to disclose his identity. Their words had told him that they had no fear of the cavalrymen, so that reference to them would stand him in no stead, and as minute after minute went by without any sound or sign of Jesse, his hope began to fail him. Yet no trace was there in his face of what was passing in his mind. Indeed, his wonderful coolness puzzled the redskins. They had been accustomed to see white men cringe and tremble before them, and the words of Great Bear had doubtless been intended to strike terror to his heart. But the fact that he was cool and indifferent made them think they had captured a man who knew no fear. One more attempt they made, however, to break their captive's spirit. After a consultation with two or three of his warriors, Great Bear spoke a few words in a low voice. Immediately four bucks stepped from the circle about the fire, their scalping knives in their hands. Came a sharp command from the chief. As with one movement, the braves raised their arms and lowered them, sending the wicked blades straight at their helpless victim. Shrilly the knives whistled as they sailed through the air. Fascinated, Comanche Tony watched the flashes of steel as they sped toward him. Could any strain have been more nerve-destroying? Any one of the four blades, should it strike a vital spot, would kill him. But all four were speeding toward him together, so nicely had the bucks gauged their throws. Yet the bandit was too familiar with the nature of the redman not to know that instead of striking him where death would result, the blades would simply inflict painful flesh wounds, that the red devils might gloat in the sight of his blood and agony. Every nerve in his body was atingle as he waited for the impact. Of a sudden, however, he made a terrible discovery. The knives were coming for his head. Like a flash, it occurred to him that his eyes and ears were the targets. A trice he contemplated the possibility of dodging them, for his head was not bound. But the realization came to him that while he might avoid one of the whistling blades, he could not escape all four, and he decided to make no move. Fortunate, indeed, was it that he did so. Nearer and nearer came the knives. Yet it seemed to Comanche Tony that years had elapsed since they had left the hands of the savages. Of a sudden, he felt a cool draught against his cheeks, and then he could no longer see the awful blades. Scarce able to believe his senses, he could feel no pain.