THE Shoshones instantly stopped and one of them uttered an exclamation. It was easy for them to tell the direction from whence the unexpected sound had come, and all stood peering into the gloom, bows tightly grasped and hands ready to draw their arrows from the quivers and launch them at the instant demanded.

Victor was so incensed with Zigzag that he was tempted to send a bullet through his brain, but restrained himself. He whispered to George at his side:

“Don’t stir or speak, but be ready to shoot!”

His intention was to fire upon the Shoshones if they advanced upon them. Such an advance undoubtedly would have been made, for the hostiles could not have been aware of the real danger of it, but it was prevented by the unexpected appearance of the Blackfoot, who came hurrying down the pass on foot, and called to the Shoshones in their own tongue. The strangers immediately turned their attention to him, and the boys, from their covert, had the singular spectacle presented of a single warrior in seemingly friendly converse with five who were believed to be enemies.

“I don’t understand what he means,” whispered George; “do you?”

“Haven’t any idea, but it looks as if there’s going to be a fight. If it comes, you take the one to the left and I’ll drop him on the right; we mustn’t waste our bullets.”

“That will leave Mul-tal-la with three to fight.”

“But won’t we take a hand? We must jump right into it. After we have wiped them all out, I think I’ll knock Zigzag in the head—confound him! He’s to blame for all this.”

“Don’t be hasty, Victor. If Mul-tal-la needs our help he’ll call to us; he must know we are ready and won’t fail him.”

Meanwhile the Blackfoot was holding a talk with the five Shoshones, who made up the entire party. It seemed strange that a struggle did not open at once, but it may have been because the hostiles were ignorant of the force hiding beside the trail and holding them under their guns. An Indian, no more than a white man, likes to engage in a contest with a foe whose strength is unknown.

Suddenly, to the amazement of George and Victor Shelton, Mul-tal-la called to them:

“Let my brothers come forward; no harm shall be done them!”

“Well, that gets me!” muttered Victor. “I don’t know whether to obey him or not.”

“It won’t do to refuse, but we’ll be ready.”

Leaving their animals behind, the two straightened up and picked their way to the path, each firmly grasping his gun and resolute that there should be no repetition of the performance earlier in the day.

The obscurity did not prevent the brothers gaining a good view of the five warriors, who surveyed them with unconcealed interest as they came into the trail and halted behind the Blackfoot and several paces from the nearest Shoshone. The strangers resembled the warriors who were the companions of Black Elk, the chief. Though he could not be certain, George believed that one at least whom they had met that morning was with the party before him.

Mul-tal-la now told a remarkable story—so remarkable, indeed, that the boys could not credit it. These five Shoshones were the ones to whom Black Elk had signaled by means of his camp-fire, and to which they had replied later in the day. But the exchange of messages was meant as a friendly interference in behalf of the Blackfoot and his companions.

The chief had good reason to believe that a hunting party of Cas-ta-ba-nas were in the mountains, and a meeting between them and the travelers was almost certain. The Cas-ta-ba-nas were a small tribe whose villages and hunting grounds were to the eastward of the principal range of the Rockies. They were small in numbers, but of warlike disposition, and were often engaged in hostilities with others of their race. They were wise enough, however, not to molest the Shoshones or Snakes, who were so much more numerous and powerful that they would have exterminated the whole tribe had provocation been given. It would not be far from the truth to say the Cas-ta-ba-nas were vassals of the Shoshones.

It appeared to be the fate of the smaller tribe to become involved to a greater degree with the whites than were others of their race. This may have been because the most productive beaver-runs were in their section of the West, and consequently more trappers were drawn hither. There had been a fight the preceding winter between three white men and a party of Cas-ta-ba-nas, in which two of the latter were killed. This inflamed the anger of the tribe toward the palefaces. What more likely, therefore, than that, when they came upon a couple of the hated race under the escort of a single Blackfoot, they should destroy all three?

Black Elk, therefore, as the extraordinary story ran, had signalled to the Shoshones to warn the Cas-ta-ba-nas that they must not molest the little party on their way through their country. If they violated the command Black Elk would make sure that they suffered therefor.

This was the story told to the boys, and which impressed them as incredible.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Victor, who did not hesitate to speak plainly, inasmuch as Mul-tal-la was the only Indian present who could understand his words; “do you?”

“Mul-tal-la does not know; it may be true.”

“How could Black Elk tell all this to another party of Shoshones by means of the smoke of his camp-fire?” asked George Shelton.

“He could not.”

“Then how did these people get his message?”

“This Shoshone,” replied the Blackfoot, indicating the warrior whom the youth believed he had met before, “was with Black Elk. He sent him to find these Shoshones with the word from the chief; but it took him a long time to find them; that is why we did not see the return to the signal till the day was near done.”

“What need was there of his finding the others? Couldn’t he have given the message to the Cas-ta-ba-nas himself without asking anyone to help him?”

“That he would have done had he not found his friends before darkness came. It may be,” added Mul-tal-la significantly, “that the Cas-ta-ba-nas are more afraid of five Shoshones than of a single one.”

“It may all be as you say, Mul-tal-la, but Victor and I find it mighty hard to believe it; but we’ll do as you wish. What’s the next step?”

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