"If any war parties are cached along here in the timber," said Pitamakan, "these running herds are putting them upon their guard!" "Let us keep well out from the timber," I proposed. I had no more than spoken when two men came walking slowly out from a grove about two hundred yards ahead of us, each with his right hand raised above his head, the sign for peace. "Ha! Maybe they mean that, and maybe they are setting a trap for us; we must be cautious," said Pitamakan. We advanced slowly until we were about a hundred yards from the signalers and brought our horses to a stand. "Who are you?" I signed to them. One of them, dropping his bow and arrows, extended his arms and rapidly raised and lowered them several times in imitation of the wings of a bird, the sign for the Crow tribe. Then he waved his right hand above his shoulder, the query sign that I had made. "We want nothing to do with them," Pitamakan said to me hurriedly. I signed that I was white. "The rider with you, who is he? Where are you camped? Let us be friends and go together to your camp," the Crow signed. Then his companion added, "Come, let us meet and sit and smoke a peace pipe. We are two, you are two. It will be good for the four of us to be friends and smoke." "What a lie! Now I am sure they want to trap us! Signing to us that they are but two! Close behind them the timber is full of Crows!" Pitamakan muttered. "What shall we do?" I asked him. "Cross the river, ride off beyond the breaks, where they can't see us, and then turn homeward?" "It would be useless to do that. They are bound north and will see our camp; we may as well make a straight ride to it." "Well, then, we go," I said and pressed a heel against Is-spai-u's side. Away we went, circling out from the grove; and our horses had not made four jumps when a number of Crows--at least twenty, we thought--sprang from the timber and discharged their few guns at us while the bow-and-arrow men raised the Crow war cry and uselessly flourished their weapons. Several of the bullets whizzed uncomfortably close to us. Pitamakan was about to return their fire when I checked him. "Don't fire! We have enough trouble to face!" I cried. Our swift horses carried us out of their range before they could load and fire their guns again. "More trouble for us, I'm sure!" my uncle exclaimed, as we halted our sweating horses in front of the barricade just before sunset. "Yes, a war party of twenty or twenty-five Crows fired at us. They seem to be heading this way," I replied, and told him and the men all about our meeting them, while Pitamakan answered the women's questions. When I had finished, the engagés, Abbott excepted, of course, wore pretty long faces. They all went into Henri Robarre's lodge as we, with Abbott, answered Tsistsaki's call to supper.