“We did not know where you were, chief,” replied Dave; “but we’ll give you fighting enough before we have done with this business, that I tell you. There is the enemy, but if you join us, you must fight as I tell you.” “Whirlwind is not ashamed to fight under the Beaver Captain,” replied the chief. “He will listen to the words of wisdom.” “Dismount your men and picket the horses here behind the woods. Five men will do to guard them.” The order was promptly obeyed, and the Blackfeet advanced on foot. They were an active-looking, stalwart body of men, and Dave was delighted with their appearance. “We are here,” cried Whirlwind. “Let the Beaver Captain tell us what to do, and we are ready.” “Good!” replied Dave, adopting the laconic manner of the Indians. “Remember that Short Legs is a prisoner among our enemies, and be careful to do him no harm. Speak to your men and tell them this.” The chief did so, and then drawing him aside, Dave gave him instructions how to proceed. His plan was to separate the Indians and send them up the hills to drive out the two parties detached by Rafe Norris to guard the flanks of his forces, and then assail them from the cliff, while the trappers attacked the front. The Indian, pleased with the duty assigned him, quickly separated his men, placing one half under the command of a man whom he could trust, and then, keeping under cover of the strip of woods, marched to the right and left until they reached the confines of the valley, and began to steal up through the dark defiles, climbing from rock to rock, toward the place where the flanking-parties lay. It was some time before these men understood the movement, but when they did so, every thing was done which men could do to make their position good. But the savages, sheltering themselves in every conceivable way, gradually closed in until scarcely a hundred yards separated them, when they rose from the cover and rushed in with hatchet and knife to do the work assigned them. A desperate struggle followed, hand to hand and foot to foot; but numbers triumphed, and of the twenty-two men who had been appointed to guard the flanks, only eight, and three of these wounded, reached the level where their comrades stood. These had their hands full, for the trappers were advancing, firing as they ran, and a large party had already effected a lodgment among the scattered bowlders which lay about the mouth of the pass, while the Blackfeet were raining down every possible missile on the heads of the astounded British.