ently also of rank, came and sat down. Franklin and his friends
joined the rude circle of what they were glad to see was meant to be an
impromptu council.

White Calf arose and faced the white men.

"White men go!" he said, his voice rising. "Injun heap shoot!"

"B'gad, I believe the haythen thinks he can scare us," said
Battersleigh, calmly.

Franklin pointed to the carcasses of the buffalo, and made signs that
after they had taken the meat of the buffalo they would go. Apparently
he was understood. Loud words arose among the Indians, and White Calf
answered, gesticulating excitedly:

"Heap good horse!" he said, pointing to the horses of the party.
"White man go! Injun heap get horse! Injun heap shoot!"

"This is d----d intimidation!" shouted Battersleigh, starting up and
shaking a fist in White Calf's face.

"Give up our horses? Not by a d----d sight!" said Curly. "You can
heap shoot if you want to turn loose, but you'll never set me afoot out
here, not while I'm a-knowin' it!"

The situation was tense, and Franklin felt his heart thumping, soldier
though he was. He began to step back toward the wagons with his
friends. A confused and threatening uproar arose among the Indians,
who now began to crowd forward. It was an edged instant. Any second
might bring on the climax.

And suddenly the climax came. From the barricade at the rear there
rose a cry, half roar and half challenge. The giant Mexican Juan, for
a time quieted by Curly's commands, was now seized upon by some impulse
which he could no longer control. He came leaping from behind the
wagons, brandishing the long knife with which he had been engaged upon
the fallen buffalo.

"_Indios_!" he cried, "_Indios_!" and what followed of his speech was
only incoherent savage babblings. He would have darted alone into the
thick of the band had not Franklin and Curly caught him each by a leg
as he passed.

The chief, White Calf, moved never a muscle in his face as he saw his
formidable adversary coming on, nor did he join in the murmurs that
arose among his people. Rather there came a glint into his eye, a
shade of exultation in his heavy face. "Big chief!" he said, simply.
"Heap fight!"

"You bet your blame life he'll heap fight!" said Curly, from his
position upon Juan's brawny breast as he held him down. "He's good for
any two of you, you screechin' cowards!"

Curly's words were perhaps not fully understood, yet the import of his
to