While Colter’s experience after 1807 has little bearing upon the history of Yellowstone, it is a part of the heritage of the Old West and therefore essential for the unity of the narrative.[50] In the autumn of 1808, Colter and a companion named Potts invaded the hunting grounds of the Blackfeet Indians in the vicinity of Three Forks forming the Missouri. Early one morning they were setting a line of traps along either the Jefferson, Madison, or Gallatin rivers, about a day’s travel from their point of junction.[51] As they were silently paddling the canoe, they heard a resounding noise that resembled the muffled pounding of feet. Colter was apprehensive about Indians, and since perpendicular banks obstructed their view he advised hiding. However, his impulsive companion accused him of cowardice; why run from buffalo? Almost within the moment a band of “Black Devils” burst through the thicket into full view. Colter kept cool and rowed for the bank. As they drew closer to the enemy, Potts dropped his paddle and picked up his rifle. This gesture was interpreted as an act of defiance by the Blackfeet braves. A stalwart savage leaped into the water and snatched Potts’ rifle out of his hands. Whereupon, with an air of mastery that Indians respect, Colter stepped to the bank, wrested the weapon from the warrior’s grasp, and returned it to Potts. [Illustration: W. S. Chapman Colter and Potts under attack.] The Blackfeet were now swarming through the brush, but Colter, calm and poised, raised his hand palm forward in the peace signal. Potts, now convinced that flight was the only hope, nosed the canoe toward mid-stream. Suddenly a bowstring twanged, and Potts cried out, “Colter, I’m wounded.” Colter urged him to come ashore, but instead he leveled his rifle at an Indian and fired. Instantly a score of arrows entered his body or, in Colter’s language, “he was made a riddle of,” and he slumped lifeless in the canoe.[52] Calm and flintlike Colter stood his ground. As the chief sized up the situation, a dozen warriors identified the survivor as the white man who raised havoc among them in a battle with a band of Crow Indians.[53] This knowledge caused the braves to clamor for setting him up as a mark to shoot at, but their chief interfered. He stood in great dignity and said, “This is a brave warrior. We will see how bravely he can die.”[54] Then, seizing the victim by the shoulders, he asked him if he could run fast. To this query Colter replied with a chop-fallen air that he was slow. Actually, he was an excellent sprinter. Several hundred Indians swarmed about, working up their emotions toward the victim. First they denuded him, then motioned him to move forward perhaps a hundred yards, from whence he was signalled to run toward a “v” shaped open prairie of some six miles expanse. Colter had drawn a chance to save himself if he could! He accepted the challenge and resolved to make the most of it. As the war