Fred Linden walked rapidly forward until he reached the middle of the prairie, when he paused and bent his eyes on the swiftly vanishing drove of buffaloes. They were speeding at right angles to the course he had been following, and, so far as he could judge at the distance, were on the same dead run with which they started.

He was convinced that he was mistaken a brief while before, when, for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of Terry on the back of the terrified bull. He was unable to distinguish any thing that looked like him. He might—and it was not at all improbable—be still clinging to his steed, but he was too far off and too mixed up with the others for even the keen eyes of Fred Linden to identify him.

There seemed but the one thing to do: that was to follow the drove until he learned the fate of his friend. Certain that he would find him sooner or later, Fred resorted again to his loping trot, which he could keep up for several hours without great fatigue.

But he had not gone twenty steps at this gait, when, to his astonishment and alarm, he observed three Indian warriors, each mounted on a horse, issue from the wood at the point where the buffaloes would have entered it had they not turned to the left. The red men headed their animals directly toward Fred, and advanced at a moderate gallop.

The sight was enough to make the bravest person thoughtful; for you will readily see the critical situation of the boy. It was useless to turn and run, for they would overhaul him before he could get half way to cover. He was in the middle of a grassy prairie, where there was not the slightest object which could be used as a screen in a fight with them. He glanced quickly about, but did not see a stone as large as his hand. Except so far as his weapons were concerned, he was absolutely helpless.

Never did Fred Linden display more coolness and knowledge of Indian character than he did at this time when caught at such fearful disadvantage. He knew that if he showed any timidity, the red men would attack him at once, while, if he could deceive them, as he hoped, there was a possibility that he would escape.

Two hundred yards away, the Indians drew their cantering horses down to a walk: they evidently saw there was no call for haste and they could afford to take all the time they wished. They were riding beside each other, instead of in Indian file, and being nigh enough to be observed distinctly, showed that they were dressed precisely like the Winnebagos whom he had noticed the night before around their camp-fire. This might have been, had they belonged to another totem, for there is a similarity in the dress of different tribes, but Fred had no doubt that these were Winnebagos. It began to look indeed as if there was an irruption of them into that section of the Louisiana Territory.

During those trying moments, when Fred calmly watched the approach of the dusky horsemen, he was observant of the smallest things. He recalled that they were the same in number as the party which he and Terry so narrowly missed the night before on the edge of the stream and he half suspected they were the same, though such supposition did not correspond with the theories formed and accepted at the time.

He saw the middle horse, which was darker in color than the others, slightly stumble; then the rider turned his head and said something to the warrior on his left, who made answer without taking his eyes from Fred; then the one on the right said something, his painted features relaxing into a frightful grin, the guttural words being plainly audible: all these points being noticed, as I have said, by the young hunter who had so much more important matters to engage his thoughts.

He recalled with relief that on picking up the gun of Terry he had reloaded it, so that he now had two weapons ready for use. With these he could make a brave resistance, and you may depend upon it that the last thing he thought of doing was to surrender. He might easily be shot down where he stood, but he would die fighting.

The three horsemen advanced with the same deliberate pace, their black eyes fixed upon Fred, who stood erect, looking straight at them. When they were within twenty yards, he quietly turned so as to face the other way, and waved his cap several times over his head. At the same moment he uttered a resounding whoop, replaced his cap, laid Terry's rifle at his feet and leveled his own at the amazed savages, who could not have suspected what was coming.

You understand that the purpose of Fred was to make the Winnebagos believe that he had friends on the edge of the wood behind him to whom he had signaled. The act of laying down his gun was to give the impression that he was so sure of support that he was ready to fight until it should appear.

Now, the red men might have been deceived by this to as full an extent as the youth desired, but the fact remained that, even if there were re-enforcements on the margin of the prairie, they were so far off that they could give no help if the Indians chose to assail the boy. I am inclined to think that had the Winnebagos believed that a dozen white hunters were encamped there, they would not have been restrained from carrying out their design by such fact: but when the cool defiance of the youth was added to the same, there was enough to make them pause.

They might shoot him down, wheel and dash for the woods from which they had emerged but a short time before; but they would be liable to pursuit, and, when a white borderer takes to the trail, he can be as persistent as the red man himself, though, as I have said, had they been eager to shoot the boy, they would not have been stopped by that knowledge. But they saw that he had his loaded rifle leveled at them: each Winnebago probably imagined he would be the special target. Their guns were still in their hands and no doubt the moment any one attempted to raise his weapon the white boy would fire.

The distance was so short that there could be no miss. It followed therefore that the cost of an assault upon the lad would be the death of one of the Winnebagos, and none of the three could know that he would not be the victim.

The cost was more than they were willing to pay, for it must be borne in mind that not only was the death of one of their number considered assured, but it was not at all unlikely that such a daring youngster would be able to do something with the gun at his feet before succumbing.

But it is not to be supposed that three mounted Indians would deliberately ride away from a single youth through fear alone,—that is, not until they had tried to circumvent him by strategy. And so it came to pass that within the same minute that Fred raised his rifle, the Winnebago who sat in the middle waved his hand toward him as a sign of comity. At the same time he called out: "Yenghese! Long Knife! Friend—friend—friend!"

But Fred knew too much to be deceived. He was the master of more vigorous English, and, without lowering his gun, he called out:

"Keep off or I'll fire! If you ride another step, I'll let daylight through you!"

As if to add emphasis to his words, he gently swayed his rifle from right to left, so that it covered each warrior in turn. There was an involuntary ducking of the heads, and the Indians, seeing that nothing was to be done without large risk, opened out—two riding to the right and one to the left. Thus they passed by Fred without lessening the space between him and them.

After all, this was the most trying moment to the youth, for it diverted his attention in the most exasperating manner. The three horsemen were in his field of vision, but it was hard to keep watch upon each. He suspected the maneuver was for the purpose of taking him off his guard, but it is doubtful whether such was the case, for there was something in the grim pose of the youthful hunter which warned them that it was unsafe to trifle with him.

When the horsemen were opposite each other and on a line with Fred, he suddenly wheeled with great quickness and held his piece still leveled so that he could shift it from one to the other the moment needed. On their part, the Winnebagos watched him with cat-like vigilance, keeping their heads turned until they came together a hundred feet beyond, and between him and the wood which he had just left. There they stopped, their position such that the sides of their animals were turned toward the lad, whom they continued to view with an interest that it is safe to say they had never felt in any other of his race.

It was tiresome to hold his heavy rifle leveled, but Fred stuck to it, for he knew how much depended on the next minute or two.

It looked for a time as though the Winnebagos had decided not to leave without a demonstration, but finally they moved off with their backs toward Fred, and their horses on a walk.

"How nicely I could pick one of them off," said he to himself, as the broad shoulders, with the black hair streaming over them, moved gently up and down with the motion of the animals, and ranged themselves beside each other like three dusky targets. "I could hit him or him or him" he added, shifting his aim from one to the other in turn, "and it's because they know it that they are afraid to risk a shot. If one of them had made a motion to take aim, I would have let fly, and I wouldn't have missed either. Then I would have done something with Terry's gun."

These thoughts had hardly found expression, when the middle Winnebago suddenly turned on his horse, raised his gun and discharged it at Fred Linden. The instant he did so, he and his two companions threw themselves forward on their animals and dashed off on a dead run for the wood.

Had the warrior been less hurried, it is probable he would have struck the astonished youth, who plainly heard the pinge of the bullet as it almost touched his ear. His own arms were beginning to ache because of their constrained position, but he took as careful aim as possible and fired at the savage who fired at him.

More than that, he hit him. A screeching yawp broke the stillness, the warrior half straightened up on his steed, seemed to sway, and would have fallen had not one of his companions caught his shoulder and supported him for a minute or two. The horses were brought down to a walk, and finally came to a standstill, though they halted at a point beyond rifle shot.

"I hope I finished him," muttered Fred Linden, with a snap of his eyes; "they are seeking my life, and, if I could have my way, I would tumble every one of them off his horse."

Never was the value of two rifles shown more strikingly than at this time. The moment his gun was discharged—had he possessed no other—Fred would have been helpless, and the Winnebagos would have been upon him before he could reload his piece; for that was in the days of flint-locks, when the charge had to be rammed down and the powder poured into the pan before the weapon was ready for use. It may be said, however, that under such circumstances he would not have fired.

But before the horsemen could wheel about, they would have found the youth standing at "present arms" precisely as before, and the situation unchanged, except that one of their own number had been disabled, and to that extent (which was considerable) the gain was on the side of the lad.

There could be little doubt that the stricken Winnebago was hit hard, though after some attention from his companions, he was able to sit his horse. The three warriors seemed to have lost all interest in Fred, for a few minutes later they rode off at a walk, without, so far as he could judge, once bestowing a look upon him.

It struck him as singular that after his stratagem, by which he believed he gave the impression that he had a party of friends on the margin of the wood, that the Winnebagos should guide their horses to the very point. After all, it began to look as though he was not so successful in that respect as he imagined, and that it was his own courageous demeanor that for the time had saved his life.

"I am glad they have ridden off in that direction," said the youth to himself, as he saw them carefully enter the wood, where they were lost from sight; "for if they had ridden the other way they would have bothered me in my hunt for Terry."