The contest thus commenced was kept up for a quarter of an hour. The arrows whistled by the tree whenever Frank showed so much as an inch of his head, and were always answered by a volley of stones, which flew like bullets through the bushes where the Indian was concealed, compelling him more than once to change his position. Then there was quiet for awhile, and the combatants stood watching one another, Frank keeping a sharp lookout for any tricks on the part of his antagonist, and wondering what would be his next move. He was not long in finding out, for presently the young warrior set up a whoop which echoed and re-echoed among the mountains, until it seemed to Frank that the woods were full of yelling savages.
"If he is trying to frighten me, I hope he will have a good time of it," thought Frank. "Perhaps he has settled himself down there with the intention of starving me out. If he has, he will find it up-hill business, for I can go without food and water as long as he can. If I only had my rifle, wouldn't I show him something?"
The Indian waited a few minutes, and repeated the yell; and this time, to Frank's utter amazement and consternation, there was an answer. It came faintly to his ears, but still it was so plain and distinct that he knew he could not be mistaken. Had his rival been calling for assistance? The question was scarcely formed in his mind, when the savage raised his head above the bushes, and coolly announced:
"Hay, you white boy! More Indian coming!"
At that moment Frank's body, being but partially protected by his tree, offered a fair mark, and the young savage was prompt to take advantage of it. Another arrow flew across the gully, and this time it was not thrown away. Frank reeled a moment, threw his arms wildly about his head, and fell heavily to the ground.
CHAPTER VIII.
FRANK'S FRIEND, THE GRIZZLY.
The young Indian was evidently very much surprised at the result of his shot. He stood for a moment as if petrified, looking at the prostrate form across the gorge, and then slowly and cautiously stepped out of the bushes to take a nearer view. He shaded his eyes with his hand, twisted himself into all sorts of shapes, ran up and down the bank, and looked at the motionless figure from a dozen different positions, and having satisfied himself at last that his enemy was really dead, he placed his hand to his mouth, and uttered a series of hideous yells, that once more awoke the echoes far and near.
His next move was to cross the gorge. He could not jump it, as Frank had done, and so was obliged to make use of the tree. It trembled and cracked beneath his weight, but he crossed it in safety, and bending over the young hunter, twisted his hand in his hair and yelled furiously. He held this position but an instant. He looked for the wound made by the arrow, but could not find it. He felt something, however, and that was a very slight pull at his belt, as four sinewy fingers were carefully inserted beneath it. With a cry of terror he sprang to his feet, and Frank arose with him—unharmed, save a slight red mark across his forehead, and as full of fight as ever. Before the young Indian could fully comprehend the trick that had been played upon him, his cries for help were stifled by a strong grasp on his throat, and he was thrown flat upon his back, with his head hanging over the brink of the precipice.