But he was not long permitted to remain an idle spectator; for the Indian, having recovered from the surprise occasioned by the bugle–call, was again approaching him at full speed. Reginald turned his horse towards his assailant, and deliberately raising his rifle, waited until the latter should be near enough to afford him a certain aim; but the Indian observing his cool determined bearing, and having some experience of the dangerous nature of the white man’s weapon, suddenly wheeled his horse, and galloped to and fro in a zigzag direction, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating, with a rapidity that left Reginald in doubt whether he were meditating an attack, or desirous only of exhibiting his wonderful powers of horsemanship. These doubts were, however, soon resolved; for in one of these swift evolutions, when passing the spot where Reginald stood, at a distance of fifty yards, the Indian suddenly threw himself half off his horse, and hanging over its side, discharged from under the animal’s neck an arrow, which whizzed close by Reginald’s ear; then, when he was himself out of shot, resumed his seat in the saddle, and again wheeling his horse, prepared to repeat a manœuvre which had so nearly been attended with success. On this second occasion Reginald was resolved to try his chance with the rifle; and when his enemy, emboldened by the quiet and apparently surprised demeanour of the white man, threw himself again over the side of his horse, and came within a nearer range, our hero levelled his rifle at the animal, whose body shielded completely that of his opponent, and the ball taking effect behind the shoulder, both horse and man rolled upon the grass. [Illustration: REGINALD AND THE CROW CHIEF P. 312] Reginald sprung from his saddle and hastened to the spot, hoping to secure the Indian while still encumbered by the fallen horse; but the active savage leapt upon his feet, and not having time to fit an arrow to the string, struck a furious but unsuccessful blow at the young man’s head, with his bow; then uttering his war–cry, rushed upon him with a long sharp knife that he had drawn from his belt; but the Indian had mistaken both the skill and strength of the opponent with whom he thus rashly endeavoured to close, and in a moment Reginald’s cutlass was buried in his chest. In vain he summoned all his remaining strength to strike a last blow; both hand and eye refused their aid, and he fell heavily forward upon the grass. Reginald, sheathing his cutlass, knelt by the side of the wounded man, and strove to stanch the blood; but his efforts were fruitless, the lungs were pierced, and it was evident that death was fast approaching.