When at least two inches of the hat was exposed to view, Deerfoot waited. Nothing happened, however. He raised the hat a bit higher. Still there was no result. Perhaps their foe suspected a plot and was determined not to be caught. That such could be the case seemed most improbable, however. Deerfoot raised the hat still a little higher and moved it slightly to one side, as if its owner was trying to conceal himself behind something.
Bang! A shot suddenly struck the hat squarely in the center and splintered the stick, tearing it from Deerfoot’s hand.
“Now, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph, springing to his feet.
Both boys immediately jumped up and taking quick aim fired into the bush whence the bullets had come. Then they once more dodged behind the sheltering log. A shrill cry at that moment startled them, however, and looking up they saw Deerfoot, knife in hand, charging the spot where their enemy was located. He uttered the war whoop of the Pottowattomies and it was this that the boys had heard.
“We mustn’t let him go alone,” cried Robert, and as he spoke the two young woodsmen dashed forward to lend what assistance they could to their ally.
There was nothing for them to do, however, when they reached the bush. Stretched upon the ground lay the Indian who had so nearly succeeded in shooting and perhaps killing one of the three. Hideous he looked in his gaudy war paint, smeared as he was with it from head to foot. One glance was sufficient to convince the two brothers that their foe was dead, and it was hard for them to repress a shudder, as they looked at the cruel face on the ground before them, and realized what might have been their fate had they fallen into the hands of such an enemy.
“Deerfoot, you mustn’t do that!” exclaimed Joseph suddenly.
Knife in hand Deerfoot was busily engaged in scalping his fallen foe. As Joseph spoke, their Indian ally muttered something, but did not stop the work in which he was engaged.
“Deerfoot—” began Joseph again, when Robert interrupted him.
“Let him alone, Joe,” he cautioned in a low voice. “It is his custom to do that and he won’t like it if we stop him.”