The Little Bear instantly charged his gun, and then, as their custom is, threw himself upon his face, in humble supplication to the Great Spirit for his aid and protection. His wife, in the meantime, seeing him agitated, and fearing some evil consequences, without knowing any thing of the preliminaries, secretly withdrew the bullet from the gun, and told him not of it. The Dog’s voice, at this moment, was heard, and recognized at the door of Mah-to-Shee-ga’s lodge, “If Mah-to-tchee-ga be a whole man, let him come out and prove it; it is Shon-ka that calls him!” His wife screamed; but it was too late. The gun was in his hand, and he sprang out of the door--both drew and simultaneously fired. The Dog fled uninjured; but the Little Bear lay weltering in his blood (strange to say!) with all that side of his face shot away, which had been left out of the picture; and, according to the prediction of the Dog, “good for nothing;” carrying away one half of the jaws, and the flesh from the nostrils and corner of the mouth, to the ear, including one eye, and leaving the jugular vein entirely exposed. Here was a “coup;” and any one accustomed to the thrilling excitement that such things produce in an Indian village, can form some idea of the frightful agitation amidst several thousand Indians, who were divided into jealous bands or clans, under ambitious and rival chiefs! In one minute a thousand guns and bows were seized! A thousand thrilling yells were raised; and many were the fierce and darting warriors who sallied round the Dog for his protection--he fled amidst a shower of bullets and arrows; but his braves were about him! The blood of the Onc-pa-pas was roused, and the indignant braves of that gallant band rushed forth from all quarters, and, swift upon their heels, were hot for vengeance! On the plain, and in full view of us, for some time, the whizzing arrows flew, and so did bullets, until the Dog and his brave followers were lost in distance on the prairie! In this rencontre, the Dog had his arm broken; but succeeded, at length, in making his escape. On the next day after this affair took place, Little Bear died of his wound, and was buried amidst the most pitiful and heart-rending cries of his distracted wife, whose grief was inconsolable at the thought of having been herself the immediate and innocent cause of his death, by depriving him of his supposed protection. This marvellous and fatal transaction was soon talked through the village, and the eyes of all this superstitious multitude were fixed on me as the cause of the calamity--my paintings and brushes were instantly packed, and all hands, Traders and Travellers, assumed at once a posture of defence.