Then it was that his careful survey of the surroundings came into play, for Dick had made a mental map upon which he could depend when utter darkness lay upon the earth.

Roger, still hearkening to the dreadful sounds that were bursting out all about them, felt his companion duck down, and he judged that they must be alongside the log on which the gun with the ammunition had been placed by the Indian who had led them into the trap.

And, somehow, Roger guessed that success had come to his chum, even though he himself could not see anything of the gun. Again he was being half dragged along, as though Dick had chosen his course, and was trying to follow it.

Their one idea now was to get away from the camp, and let the hostile red men have their fight out to the bitter end. Small affair it was of the boys whether the Dacotahs whipped the Shoshones, or the latter overwhelmed the braves who had been the captors of the young pioneers.

Skillful maneuvering was necessary in order to avoid contact with any of the furious warriors. The boys heard the sound of blows being struck, and their lively imaginations could picture what was occurring nearby, as they slipped along through the darkness.

Fortune was kind to them, after all, for they did not strike against a single dusky figure, although several times they had to sink close to the ground when they heard the rush of moccasined feet close at hand.

Now the noise of the desperate hand-to-hand conflict was behind them, Roger noticed with a feeling of great relief. He could hear not only the war cries of those who fought, but occasionally there also came sounds of darker import, such as were probably the death chants of those who were bound for the “happy hunting grounds” of the red men. As they gradually put all this horrible clamor further and further behind them, the two boys felt their own spirits rise higher. The attack of the Shoshones had come just in the nick of time to help the young pioneers. It had served to cover their escape as nothing else could have done.

Roger was panting for breath, because of the excitement as well as his strenuous actions. He had knocked into more than one tree, but without so far seriously hurting himself; and as usual the boy felt that he must give tongue to the feelings of wild delight that were rioting through his veins.

“We did it, Dick, for a fact; gave them the slip!” he burst forth.

“It looks that way, Roger.”