occurred.
The trapping operations went on prosperously and without interruption
from the Indians, who seemed to have left the locality altogether.
During this period, Dick, and Crusoe, and Charlie had many excursions
together, and the silver rifle full many a time sent death to the heart
of bear, and elk, and buffalo, while, indirectly, it sent joy to the
heart of man, woman, and child in camp, in the shape of juicy steaks and
marrow-bones. Joe and Henri devoted themselves almost exclusively to
trapping beaver, in which pursuit they were so successful that they
speedily became wealthy men, according to backwood notions of wealth.
With the beaver that they caught, they purchased from Cameron's store
powder and shot enough for a long hunting expedition and a couple of
spare horses to carry their packs. They also purchased a large
assortment of such goods and trinkets as would prove acceptable to
Indians, and supplied themselves with new blankets, and a few pairs of
strong moccasins, of which they stood much in need.

Thus they went on from day to day, until symptoms of the approach of
winter warned them that it was time to return to the Mustang Valley.
About this time an event occurred which totally changed the aspect of
affairs in these remote valleys of the Rocky Mountains, and precipitated
the departure of our four friends, Dick, Joe, Henri, and Crusoe. This
was the sudden arrival of a whole tribe of Indians. As their advent was
somewhat remarkable, we shall devote to it the commencement of a new
chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

SAVAGE SPORTS--LIVING CATARACTS--AN ALARM--INDIANS AND THEIR DOINGS--THE
STAMPEDO--CHARLIE AGAIN.

One day Dick Varley was out on a solitary hunting expedition near the
rocky gorge, where his horse had received temporary burial a week or two
before. Crusoe was with him, of course. Dick had tied Charlie to a
tree, and was sunning himself on the edge of a cliff, from the top of
which he had a fine view of the valley and the rugged precipices that
hemmed it in.

Just in front of the spot on which he sat, the precipices on the
opposite side of the gorge rose to a considerable height above him, so
that their ragged outlines were drawn sharply across the clear sky.
Dick was gazing in dreamy silence at the jutting rocks and dark caverns,
and speculating on the probable number of bears that dwelt there, when a
slight degree of restlessness on the part of Crusoe attracted him.

"What