And he was riding on the morning of the third day, out along the stream, just angling across it, not paying much attention to what he was doing, when something whistled past his cheek, brushing him lightly—almost like a fly. He reached his hand up absently, and at that instant, the horse stepped on a rock and stumbled.

The sudden movement saved Francis’s life. The second arrow—which would have hit him squarely in the middle of the chest—whirred past and buried itself in the muck of a beaver dam ten yards upstream.

“Heeah!” Francis screamed, and at the same second fired his rifle in the air. He had two purposes in mind for shooting the rifle. First, it would warn Mr. Grimes. Second, it would get the mare running.

And run she did. Like a little bomb going off beneath Francis, she was out of the stream and at a full gallop in the space of one breath, while he clung to her back like a flea.

She ran straight ahead, and luckily she happened to be pointed toward the camp. But unluckily, she was also pointed toward the Indians, who were hidden in the brush along the stream between Francis and the camp, and she took him right through the middle of them.

Francis hadn’t seen the Indians, and suddenly he was ten feet away from all five of them. They were five Crows painted for war, ready, and wanting one thing—to make Francis look like a porcupine.

Arrows whistled by him, and Francis felt as though the world had suddenly gone crazy. Painted faces popped up in front of him, screeched, loosed a feathered missile, and disappeared. Somebody fired a gun right by his face, and it deafened him. He felt a hand grab at his leg, and he managed to shake it off. Another hand came up; he clubbed it down with his empty rifle and—he was free!

He was out of the ring of faces and arrows, flying along with the mare.

He looked back. He had seen no horses, but he knew that the Indians wouldn’t be too far from their mounts. It was nearly two miles to camp—two long miles. His horse was well fed and with any kind of a lead, he could probably beat them.

He studied the ground ahead. It was smooth, grassy—ideal for running. He looked back again, and saw that two Indians were mounted and starting after him. As he watched, three others burst out of a stand of willows near where they’d jumped Francis.