In an instant the Spaniards were armed and ambushed behind the rocks. The count walked up to the hunter and said, as he cordially pressed his hand-- "Señor Olivero, I heard all; you could save yourself by abandoning us, but refused to do so. I thank you." "Nonsense," the adventurer replied laughingly; "did you not understand that the Indian was setting a clumsy trap for me, into which I was not so simple as to fall?" "Why try to reduce the merit of your loyal conduct? I know perfectly well, and you know as well as I do, that this man spoke the truth." "That is possible. Would you not have done the same in my place?" "That is a singular question. Do you imagine, pray, that everybody has your heroism?" The Canadian began laughing, and the conversation broke off here for the present, for an immense belt of flame rose from the bank and dispelled the gloom as if by enchantment; the Indians were beginning their attack by firing the grass, so that they might see the enemy's camp at their ease. At the same instant a cloud of arrows and a hailstorm of bullets hailed over the camp, though it was impossible for the Spaniards to distinguish a single enemy. "Spare your ammunition," the Canadian recommended his companions; "do not fire till you are certain; who knows how long this may last? Do not expose yourselves unless you wish to be traversed by an arrow or hit by a bullet; we are waging an Indian war, in which courage is most shown in prudence." The hunter, however, with his body bent forward, was attentively seeking an opportunity to fire, following the direction of the shots; but the redskins knew by experience the infallible precision of his aim, and were not at all anxious to serve as his target; hence they redoubled their precautions. Suddenly the Canadian fancied he saw a slight movement behind some logs collected on the bank and fired. At the same instant an Indian leapt up like a wounded buck, and then fell back; several warriors dashed forward to pick up his body, and four fresh shots produced four more corpses. The Indians thereupon fled, abandoning their wounded, who writhed, in the last convulsions of death, and all fell back into such deep silence that had it not been for the sight of the corpses and the increasing conflagration, it might have been supposed that all had been a dream. "Well," the count said, as he reloaded his gun, "it was a sharp skirmish, but the lesson was a good one, and I hope they will profit by it." "Do not fancy that they will so easily give up getting hold of you. Have a little patience and you will see them return. Have we any wounded?" "Not a soul." "Heaven be blessed! Let us redouble our vigilance, for it is probable that they are at this moment inventing some diabolical stratagem to deceive us." Nearly two hours elapsed, and the redskins did not make the slightest movement indicating their desire to attempt a fresh attack.