"It was about an hour back when old Lame Wolf, who was on guard at the north side of the barricade, saw a big bear close in front of him. It was a chance to count a coup that he couldn't resist. Taking good aim with his old fuke, he fired and let out a yell. But his yell wasn't so loud as the roar of the bear when the bullet spatted into his side. We all waked and rushed outside, but the other old watchers were ahead of us. They ran to Lame Wolf, and the first of them fired at the bear, which was growling and biting at its wound. At that, the bear came with a rush over the logs right in among them. He was badly hurt, but would surely have mauled and killed some of them had it not been for the powder smoke from their fukes, which blinded him and made him cough. The old men were running away in all directions, but he couldn't see them. He sat up to get his bearings, and just then the smoke lifted; and there he was, a mountain of a bear close in front of me. I took quick sight at him and broke his neck. It all happened so quickly, and the old men were so intent upon getting out of reach of the bear, that they never knew that I gave him the finishing shot. One of them, looking back, shouted something to the others, and all turned and ran to the bear; and old Lame Wolf tapped him on the head with the barrel of his fuke and counted coup on him. He claimed it, no doubt, because he had fired the first shot into his carcass." "And what did the engagés do?" Pitamakan asked. "What did they do! You should have heard Henri Robarre praying to be saved. The others joined in and ran about among the lodges, carrying their guns as though they were so many sticks!" Abbott exclaimed. "They did better than that in our Sliding Beaver fight," I said. "So they did, and they probably will be of some help when another real fight takes place. I have just given them my opinion of their actions in a way they will not soon forget," said my uncle. We washed and had breakfast while the old men still sang their quaint song of victory. Afterwards, when we went out, old Lame Wolf was cutting the claws from his coup. He did not want the hide, nor did we; the hair was the old, sunburned, and ragged winter coat. So the engagés hitched an unwilling team to the carcass, dragged it to the edge of the river-bank, and rolled it into the water. They all then went down into the grove, and the Tennessee Twins came up from it for their breakfast and their sleep. The night had been quiet down there. One of them had come to learn the cause of the firing in camp and had gone back, my uncle said, almost bursting with anger at the cowardly and disgraceful exhibition the engagés had made of themselves. That day Pitamakan and I had Tsistsaki waken us shortly before noon, and when my uncle and Abbott returned to the lodge for dinner we proposed that we be allowed to go to meet the Pikuni and bring them on--a part of the warriors, at any rate--with all haste.