Dick watched eagerly to see what the chief would do next. He examined the long rifle all over, but apparently looked upon it as a dangerous thing for any one not familiar with its working to handle. Finally his eyes again lighted on Dick, and he made motions to his guards, at the same time saying something in his quick, harsh voice. Apparently the word of the chief was law, for immediately one of the warriors hastened to loosen the withes that were wrapped around the wrists of the boy. Then the chief motioned to Dick, and held out the gun. "He wants you to show him how it works, Dick!" exclaimed Roger, eagerly, as though a gleam of new hope had come into his soul. When he had rubbed his hands until the blood circulated once more, Dick accepted the gun from the chief. It gave him a queer feeling to touch it again; but he knew well that his only chance of escape lay in his being able to interest the chief so greatly in the "shooting-stick" that he would spare the lives of the palefaces in order that they might teach his braves how to use the wonderful thing. So Dick beckoned to them to let him walk outside, which was agreed upon. Surrounded by a mob of moving figures, the boys were allowed to emerge from the council lodge. Dick was looking for some target at which to shoot. This he quickly discovered in a crow that had alighted on the top of a dead tree some distance away. Quickly leveling the gun, he took aim, and fired. As Dick was a splendid marksman he had no trouble in bringing down the crow, at which there was tremendous excitement among the assembled Indians. One boy ran and brought back the dead bird, after which every one had to poke a finger into the hole the bullet had made. (Note 9.) Then Dick, taking his powder-horn, showed them just how he charged the rifle. He put a greased piece of rag about the bullet, as was usual in those days, and rammed it home, after which he primed the pan, making motions that the chief was to try the next shot. But, although Running Elk was known as the bravest man of his tribe, he shook his head, as if to signify that he preferred not having anything to do with such a wonderful invention of the Evil Spirit. Still, Dick had high hopes that the desire to make use of such a powerful agency against the foes of his tribe might yet influence Running Elk to spare the lives of his white prisoners. While the assemblage was still engaged in discussing these strange things in an excited manner, the two boys were once more taken in charge by their guards, who led them through the village and thrust them into a log cabin that was undoubtedly the prison, or strong lodge. It was growing dark, and the boys could hardly see each other's face as they sat there, with their backs against the rough wall of the cabin. At least their hands had not been fastened again, and for that they had reason to be grateful, though it was such a small thing after all, when their lives might be at stake.