We returned to our watching-place, and I lay down and soon was asleep. When I awoke, I knew by the position of the Seven Persons, as the Blackfeet name the constellation of Ursa Major, that day was not far off. I said that I would take the remainder of the watch, but Pitamakan had no more than lain down when the faint, far-off boom of a gun brought us both to our feet. "Where was it?" he asked. "Off to the north," I answered. Again we heard shots, four or five of them, faint and low, like distant thunder, then one that was sharper, like the crack of a whip. "That last one was from Far Thunder's rifle!" Pitamakan exclaimed. "Yes. Great Rider's words have come true: the cut-throats are attacking camp!" We ran to the horses and fumbled at their hobbles; then we coiled the ropes of our picketed saddle-animals, mounted and drove the little band on the run for camp. "There is no more shooting!" I exclaimed. "Not another shot! It looks bad to me! Maybe our people are wiped out!" Pitamakan answered. He expressed my own fear. We forced the horses to their utmost speed. It was all of three miles to the mouth of the Musselshell, and never were there such long miles. Day was breaking as we neared the valley rim overlooking camp. A hundred yards or so away from the edge we slowed up, dropped the loose stock, and with ready rifles rode slowly on. When at last we looked down upon the camp, I could have yelled my relief. I saw smoke peacefully rising from the lodges and a couple of women going from the barricade to the river for water. Then we heard the old Mandans singing a song that we had not heard before, a triumphant song in quick, strongly marked time. "All is well!" I exclaimed. "Yes, something pleasant has happened. What can it be?" With light hearts we turned back to our loose stock, drove them down near the barricade, and let them go to graze as they would until it was time for the work of the day to begin. I was in the lead as we drove into the barricade to unsaddle, and as I passed through the entrance Is-spai-u gave a sudden turning leap that nearly unseated me, and then stood staring and snorting at a huge grizzly that lay at one side of the path. My uncle and Abbott came out of our lodge and grinned broadly at us. "Well, boys," said my uncle, "that's a real bear, isn't it!" "We've had some excitement here, and 't isn't all over yet. Listen to the old boys in there, singin'!" said Abbott. "We heard the shots and thought that you were all wiped out, they ceased so suddenly," I said. We unsaddled and followed the men into the lodge, where Tsistsaki, who was preparing breakfast, gave us cheerful greeting. "This is what happened, as near as we can make out from the old Mandans and from what we saw of it," my uncle said to us.