I knew it would be folly to try to extinguish the blaze that at once sprang up. I jumped up, gathering blankets and buffalo robes in my arms, to run across to the dugout, and as I rose and showed up against the blaze I heard the crack of a rifle, and felt the shock of a bullet in the bundle in my arms. I was not hurt and dashed for the cabin door, and as I entered on a run I heard the report of another rifle from up the ravine and the spat of the bullet on the door-frame. The hay was now burning briskly, but I felt no anxiety for our horses in the stable almost under the fire, for the thick dirt roof protected them. I closed and barred the door and then scrambled through the tunnel up into the tent and looked out through a port-hole which gave a good view for fifty yards up and down the valley. I caught a glimpse of the Indian who had fired the hay as he looked out from behind a projecting bank, but could not see enough of him to justify shooting in the uncertain light. Of the Indian who had come near hitting me as I entered the cabin, I could see nothing. As I turned to look again at the first Indian I saw him stealthily move out from his concealment, crouching down, apparently peering at the cabin door. Pushing the muzzle of my carbine through the port-hole in front of me, I took as careful aim at him as I could and fired. I saw that I had hit him, for he dropped his rifle, fell, and rolled into the water but quickly scrambled back to his hiding-place and did not again show himself; but the flash of my rifle had been seen by my watchful neighbor up the ravine, who an instant later sent a bullet through the top of the tent over my head. Presently the hay burned out and only the faint light of the moon showed the indistinct objects to me. Still I could see well enough up and down the ravine so that neither Indian could approach the door of the dugout without being seen. I had been standing on a bale of skins, which enabled me to look out of the port-hole, but now got down and cut another port-hole near the bottom of the tent, so that while lying protected by the bales I could watch for the flash of my neighbor's gun when next he fired. I could not see that the other Indian had attempted to recover his rifle and was disposed to think that my first shot had perhaps made him no longer dangerous. While still lying among the bales of fur, looking out of the new port-hole I had cut, my neighbor up the gulch sent another bullet through the tent, above me, that would have hit me if I had remained in my former position. I fired at the flash of his gun, but could not tell whether I had done him any harm. At all events, he seemed discouraged, for no more shots came from either Indian.