But the young rancher saw no reason why he should flee from a single buck, no better mounted or armed than himself. He had had enough experience in the Northwest to understand those people well, and thought he knew how to take care of himself. No, he would fight him; and now opened a most extraordinary prairie duel between Warren Starr and his dusky enemy. The youth glanced at his Winchester, and saw that it was all right, as was the case with his revolver. His saddle was firmly cinched in place, Jack was at his best, and what cared he for a single Indian, even though he was a warrior that had taken the scalp of more than one unoffending pioneer! Jack stood as motionless as a statue, with his nose toward his enemy. A gentle wind blowing across the prairie lifted his luxuriant mane slightly from his neck and swung his heavy tail to one side. His head was high, and the nostrils seemed to breathe defiance to the dusky foe, who approached at a swinging gallop, as though he meant to ride down the animal and rider. But he held no such intention. The Sioux required no one to tell him that that stationary figure, sitting so firmly in his saddle, meant to fight. While more than a hundred yards still separated the combatants the Sioux horseman wheeled to the right, and, without checking his speed, started to describe a long circle around the youth. The latter spoke softly to Jack, who slowly turned, so as to keep his head continually pointed toward the enemy. Evidently the animal understood the situation, and was competent to do his part. The Sioux at the base of the ridge had given over their effort for the time to capture their ponies. All their attention was centred on the two horsemen out on the prairie. As yet the Indian made no move to fire. Warren was looking for him to throw himself over the side of his animal, and aim from under his neck, screening his own body meanwhile from the bullet of the young rancher. Instead of doing so, however, he described a complete circle about Warren, coming back to his starting point, while Jack continued to move around, as if on a pivot, keeping his head always facing his foe. The warrior was starting on his second round, when, without any perceptible movement, he discharged his gun. Warren saw the blue puff of smoke, the report sounding dull and far away in the wintry air. The bullet did not pass nigh enough for him to be aware how close it was. It would seem that the Indian ought to have done better, for it was noticeable from where Warren sat that in completing his circle he had shortened it, and was now several rods nearer than when he set out to circumnavigate him. "It is no more than fair to return the compliment," thought Warren, raising his Winchester, taking careful aim, and pulling the trigger. Truth compels us to say, however, that his shot went as wide of the mark as the one aimed at him. Thus far honors were equal between them.