e, the general direction
to rush down the banks of the stream and get into the water, he quietly
but quickly seized his own piece and the guns of our hero and the
Irishman, together with one of the large powder-horns and bullet-pouches
of the war-party; also two smaller horns and pouches. The securing of
these cost him only a few seconds. When Will Osten and Larry had run at
full speed for several hundred yards down the stream which flowed near
to the spot where the war-party had encamped, they stopped to take
breath and receive further instructions. The active trapper and Bunco
were at their heels in a moment.

"You forgot your guns," said the trapper, with a quiet chuckle, handing
one to Larry and the other to Will.

"What nixt?" asked Larry, with a strange mixture of determination and
uncertainty in his tone--the former being founded on his character, the
latter on his ignorance.

"Follow me. Don't touch a twig or a blade o' grass on the banks, an'
make as little noise as you can. Running water leaves no trail."

Saying this, Big Ben stepped into the stream, which was a small shallow
one, and flowed for nearly half a mile through a sort of meadow among
the mountains. Down this they all waded, carefully avoiding the banks,
until they reached a narrow part where the stream tumbled over a
precipice. Here the trapper paused, and was about to give some
directions to his comrades, when the sound of constrained breathing was
heard near to him. With a sudden demonstration of being about to fire,
he turned and cocked his gun. The sharp click was no sooner heard than
three Indians burst out from beneath the bushes which overhung the
water, and, springing up the bank, fled for their lives. The trapper
could not refrain from chuckling.

"These," said he, "are some of the rascals that caught us, making their
escape by the same way that we are, but they don't know the ground as
well as I do, and apparently have got perplexed at the top o' the fall.
'Tis well. If the Redskins pursue, they will find the trail here as
clear as a king's highway--see what a gap in the bushes they have made
in their fright at the sound o' my lock! Well, well, it's not many men
that have pluck to keep quiet wi' that sound in their ears, and the
muzzle pointed at their heads! All we have to do now is to descend the
precipice without disturbing the shrubs, and then--"

A sound of horses galloping arrested him.

"Hist! don't move!"

A