In spite of all Wharton's ingenious pumping the Indian would tell no more, except that the Lone Mountain was accursed, that the white spirits of dead chiefs were wandering about it, bewailing the trouble that was to come, and that far up above the graveyards of the Indians brooded this great white bird. As to what the bird was like, though he had seen it, he would say nothing. Indians are always very loth to discuss what they call medicine, _i.e._ magic and things relating thereto, and this bird was the spirit of evil incarnate. 'All gammon, I suppose, Dick?' asked Frank later on. 'Well, no, not altogether,' replied he; 'of course I can't explain what he is driving at, but you may bet there is some truth at the bottom of his story--a trick, most likely, of his own rascally medicine-man; but, whatever it is, neither Crows nor Blackfeet will be about here as much as usual for some time, and that's bully for us.' The next three days were spent in looking for the most suitable spot on which to erect the hut in which to pass the winter, and in hunting and drying the flesh of the beasts they killed. Warwolf remained with them, lending a hand and giving advice, whilst his strength gradually returned, and the deep cuts made by the thongs of the Crows healed over and disappeared. On the fourth day all were busy in camp, preparing the winter quarters, except Frank, who had been sent out to get fresh meat, and, being a poor and inexperienced hand at stalking, had apparently been led far from home before getting his shot. Towards evening, however, the crack of his rifle was heard again and again. 'By Jove!' cried Towzer, 'Major has got amongst them now, at any rate.' 'Yes,' remarked Wharton; 'I wish as he'd remember that we haven't got a cartridge factory handy, though.' 'By George! how he is wasting them!' added Snap as report after report rang out in the distance. All this time Warwolf stood still as a stone, listening. 'My brothers had better be ready,' he now said; 'Frank fired once half an hour ago. Warwolf heard him. Those last shots were not fired by the white hunter.' 'Who fired them then?' cried Towzer. 'The Crows,' replied the chief. 'The Crows! then----' and the boy stopped and his face fell. 'Come, Dick,' said Snap, catching up his rifle. 'Warwolf is right, but we may save him yet, and if not----' 'No,' interrupted Warwolf, 'the white warriors will wait here. Warwolf will go and find out what has happened. The white hunter lives still. If the Crows had got a fair shot at him they would have fired once and my brother would have died. If he had been surrounded he would have fought, his rifle would have answered theirs, and we should have heard it. But he escaped as soon as the Crows discovered him; those shots were fired when our brother dashed into the forest. I go to meet him.' And so the Indian glided away and was gone.