Having arranged his bowlders for immediate use, he sent one of them whirling down the declivity, and followed it with another. The Indians, unable to escape the ponderous missiles that came bounding and thundering among them, screamed and yelled like demons, and all who were able to do so made a precipitate retreat.
Wilder took advantage of the pause that ensued, to again advise them to go home, assuring them that it went quite against his grain to harm his good friends, the Blackfeet. A volley of execrations was the only answer he received, and the Indians, unwilling to face the rolling stones, sought such cover as they could find, hoping to pick him off with their guns.
Safe behind his barricade, Wilder watched their proceedings very composedly, not deigning to reply to their fire unless they showed a disposition to approach him, when a well-directed shot from his rifle warned them to keep their distance.
Affairs continued in this condition for upward of half an hour, and the young man was beginning to wonder when there would be a change, when he was startled by a slight noise above him, and a piece of stone fell at his feet. Knowing that there must be some cause for such an effect, he looked up, and saw an Indian clinging to the side of the rock, and another making his way in the same direction. They had gone thus far unobserved; but the foremost had stepped on a narrow ledge, which had shaken under his weight, causing him to utter a slight exclamation.
Seeing the looseness of the ledge, Wilder pried it out from the main rock with his tomahawk, and it fell with a crash, dropping the Indian at his feet. It took Wilder but an instant to dispatch this foe with his tomahawk, and then, seizing his rifle, he shot down the other, who was still clinging helplessly to the face of the cliff.
The Blackfeet, who had counted on the attempt of their two braves to divert the attention of Wilder from their main attack, rushed fiercely up the defile, but soon found that he was not to be taken unawares. Rolling over two of his bowlders, he sent them crashing down among his assailants, sweeping them away at a serious loss of life and limb.
Then came another season of comparative quiet, which lasted until Wilder began to suspect that the Indians, or a portion of them, had gone around by the route which White Shield had spoken of, with the intention of getting in his rear. Reconnoitering as well as he could, he came to the conclusion that his suspicions were correct, and that it would be best for him to make his exit as speedily as possible.
Collecting more bowlders, he piled them up in front of him, jamming them in for the purpose of blocking up the defile as well as he could, and of concealing his movements from the enemy. As he would have several hours’ start of the Blackfeet who had gone around, he had nothing to fear but from those who might have been left in front to watch him. It would probably be some time, he calculated, before the latter would discover that he had evacuated the position. Then it would take them half an hour to get up the slope with their horses, and about as much longer to demolish his barricade. This would give him plenty of time to get out of the way.
He quietly led his horses down to the plain and broad trail, where he mounted and rode off at a gallop. He did not slacken his speed, except when he stopped to change from one horse to the other, as he was anxious to reach before night the peak which White Shield had pointed out to him. It was further off than he had supposed it to be, and it was dusk when he found himself at its base.
He was soon convinced that White Shield and Flora were not in the vicinity, and he found, after a little search, a split stick with an arrow stuck in it, pointing toward the south. They could not have got very far ahead of him, he thought, and he hoped that he might be able to overtake them where they had stopped to rest for the night.