There was nothing for it except retreat, for no man could live long under that terrible avalanche. There seemed to be no lack of ammunition, for the hail-storm increased instead of diminished. Having done all that men could do, they retreated, and Old Pegs signaled the trappers from the top of the rocks. They at once threw themselves into the saddle and came on at a mad gallop. As the Hudson Bay men showed a disposition to return, those on the rocks took their rifles and gave them two withering volleys, which quickly sent them back into the valley beyond. Running along the crest of the ravine at the head of his men, Old Pegs gained a position from which he could guard the advance of his friends at little hazard to himself. The enemy were now hastily retreating across the valley, moving toward a dark pass two or three miles distant, where they proposed to make another stand. Old Pegs rapidly descended the rocks and joined his friends, as they debouched from the ravine, with Dave Farrell at their head. “Well done, Old True Blue!” he said. “That trick saved us twenty men, at least.” “We hain’t got men to spare, either,” replied Old Pegs. “Them devils kin fight, and you bet yer life they _will_ fight, too, cuss ’em. Thet pass they ar’ gittin’ inter now is mighty strong.” “Can’t we turn it, as we did the last?” “Ska’cely! They won’t be sech durned fools this time, and we may kalkilate on finding some of ther men roosting on the sides of the ravine, ef we play thet game. ’Sides thet, the pass is wider, and they could keep away from the stuns.” “Then we must attack them in front,” said Dave, quietly. “I’ll back my boys to do the work clean.” “I guess we kin do better’n thet,” replied the old hunter. “Whar’s my hoss? What wuz it old Solomon said ’bout a beggar on hossback, eh? I’m one ov them chaps myself, jest now, but I feel more at hum. Hold on; what d’ye say ef I go out and hev a talk with them critters?” “It might do some good, but I doubt it,” replied Dave. “I guess I’ll try it. They hev hed a right smart chaince ter know what kind of stuff we ar’ made of, and mebbe they’ve got enuff. Anyhow, I kin only try it. Who’s got a han’kercher? Don’t all speak ter onc’t, ’cause I knows yer don’t blow yer noses onc’t a week. Not thet one, Granny; they’ll think it’s a black flag and shoot at me. No, Pipes, old boy; they’d kick on thet, too; they’ll think it’s a battle-flag, full ov holes. Hyar’s one will do.” He took the handkerchief which Dave presented, fastened it on a ramrod and rode away toward the pass. At first the Indians showed a disposition to fire at him, but at a word from the man who acted as leader of the whites, Jim Diggs, they lowered their weapons, and the leader stepped a few paces to the front and waited for the coming of the hunter, who rode on, shaking out his hastily-improvised flag.