So saying, Joe sprang lightly over the slight parapet of their little fortress, and ran swiftly out, unarmed, towards the Indians. In a few seconds he was close up with them, and in another moment was surrounded. At first the savages brandished their spears and rode round the solitary man, yelling like fiends, as if they wished to intimidate him; but as Joe stood like a statue, with his arms crossed, and a grave expression of contempt on his countenance, they quickly desisted, and, drawing near, asked him where he came from, and what he was doing there. Joe's story was soon told; but instead of replying, they began to shout vociferously, and evidently meant mischief. "If the Blackfeet are afraid to speak to the Pale-face, he will go back to his braves," said Joe, passing suddenly between two of the warriors and taking a few steps towards the camp. Instantly every bow was bent, and it seemed as if our bold hunter were about to be pierced by a score of arrows, when he turned round and cried,--"The Blackfeet must not advance a single step. The first that moves his _horse_ shall die. The second that moves _himself_ shall die." To this the Blackfeet chief replied scornfully, "The Pale-face talks with a big mouth. We do not believe his words. The Snakes are liars; we will make no peace with them." While he was yet speaking, Joe threw up his hand; there was a loud report, and the noble horse of the savage chief lay struggling in death agony on the ground. The use of the rifle, as we have before hinted, was little known at this period among the Indians of the far west, and many had never heard the dreaded report before, although all were aware, from hearsay, of its fatal power. The fall of the chief's horse, therefore, quite paralyzed them for a few moments, and they had not recovered from their surprise when a second report was heard, a bullet whistled past, and a second horse fell. At the same moment there was a loud explosion in the camp of the Pale-faces, a white cloud enveloped it, and from the midst of this a loud shriek was heard, as Dick, Henri, and Crusoe bounded over the packs with frantic gestures. At this the gaping savages wheeled their steeds round, the dismounted horsemen sprang on behind two of their comrades, and the whole band dashed away over the plains as if they were chased by evil spirits. Meanwhile Joe hastened towards his comrades in a state of great anxiety, for he knew at once that one of the powder-horns must have been accidentally blown up. "No damage done, boys, I hope?" he cried on coming up. "Damage!" cried Henri, holding his hands tight over his face. "Oh! oui, great damage--moche damage; me two eyes be blowed out of dere holes." "Not quite so bad as that, I hope," said Dick, who was very slightly singed, and forgot his own hurts in anxiety about his comrade. "Let me see." "My eye!" exclaimed Joe Blunt, while a broad grin overspread his countenance, "ye've not improved yer looks, Henri."