To make things worse, a dark-visaged Indian suddenly caught hold of Henri's rifle, and, ere he was aware, had plucked it from his hand.

The blood rushed to the gigantic hunter's forehead, and he was on the point of springing at the man, when Joe said in a deep quiet voice,-- "Be still, Henri.

You will but hasten death." At this moment there was a movement in the outskirts of the circle of horsemen, and another chief rode into the midst of them.

He was evidently higher in rank than Mahtawa, for he spoke authoritatively to the crowd, and stepped in before him.

The hunters drew little comfort from the appearance of his face, however, for it scowled upon them.
He was not so powerful a man as Mahtawa, but he was more gracefully formed, and had a more noble and commanding countenance.
"Have the Pale-faces no wigwams on the great river that they should come to spy out the lands of the Pawnee ?" he demanded.
"We have not come to spy your country," answered Joe, raising himself proudly as he spoke, and taking off his cap.