Creeping down the hill, he threw his hand in the air as a signal for the boys to come to him, also signaling for silence. In a few minutes they were by his side, and, while one of the fellows held Bingo safely, Ted sprang into the saddle. "Now, fellows, we're going to ride around the end of this hill and plump into the Indian camp. The snow will deaden the hoofbeats of the ponies, but keep as still as possible. We'll surprise them, and probably be able to settle the whole thing without firing a shot. But don't bet on it, and keep your hands on your guns, but don't fire until they make the first crack, then rush them and drive them into the hills, and bring down all you can." With this advice they rode forward by twos, Ted and Ben in the lead. It did not take long to round the hill, and then, as suddenly as if they had opened a door and stepped into a room, they were in the midst of the Indians. No such surprising and sudden attack was ever made. The Indians stood as if they were carved of wood as the boys rode up to them, staring open-mouthed. Only one of them made a break--the young Indian whom Ted had dismounted. For several moments not a word was said. Ted saw instantly that the broncho boys had all the best of it, and that the Indians had been taken completely by surprise, for not one of them was armed. Their rifles and guns were either still on their saddles, and the ponies were standing some distance away, or they were stacked beside a ledge of rock twenty or more feet from the fire, where most of them were congregated. The young fellow whom Ted had foiled stared for a moment with a look of contempt and dislike. Suddenly he made a rush to where the guns were standing. "Stop!" Ted's voice rang out sharply. But the youth continued to run. "Stop, or I'll kill you!" shouted Ted again. Then an old Indian cried out something, in the tongue of the Blackfeet, and the young fellow halted suddenly and came walking back with a sickly look on his face. The old Indian who had stopped the youth now stepped a little ways forward, and, holding up his hands in a peace sign, began to talk. "You are my brothers," he said, "and Flying Sun, the medicine man, welcomes you to our camp." Ted held up his hands in a sign of peace also, but said nothing. "He's a darned old hypocrite," said Ben, in an aside to Ted. "He has murder in those little red eyes of his, if ever a man had." "I'm on to him," said Ted. "Keep your eyes on that bunch, and give it to them if they start anything treacherous." "My white brothers come with peace for their red brothers. Join us at the fire. Warm yourselves; eat of our meat." "We are willing to be brothers," said Ted. "But one brother does not steal the ponies from the corral of the other." "That was the work of the young men, and they are now sorry for it," said the medicine man. Ted looked at the young fellow whom he had unhorsed, and saw that his face was distended in a sarcastic smile.