The use of the rifle, as we have before hinted, was little known at this period among the Indians of the far west, and many had never heard the dreaded report before, although all were aware, from hearsay, of its fatal power.  The fall of the chief’s horse, therefore, quite paralyzed them for a few moments, and they had not recovered from their surprise when a second report was heard, a bullet whistled past, and a second horse fell.  At the same moment there was a loud explosion in the camp of the Pale-faces, a white cloud enveloped it, and from the midst of this a loud shriek was heard, as Dick, Henri, and Crusoe bounded over the packs with frantic gestures.

At this the gaping savages wheeled their steeds round, the dismounted horsemen sprang on behind two of their comrades, and the whole band dashed away over the plains as if they were chased by evil spirits.

Meanwhile Joe hastened towards his comrades in a state of great anxiety, for he knew at once that one of the powder-horns must have been accidentally blown up.

“No damage done, boys, I hope?” he cried on coming up.

“Damage!” cried Henri, holding his hands tight over his face.  “Oh! oui, great damage—­moche damage; me two eyes be blowed out of dere holes.”

“Not quite so bad as that, I hope,” said Dick, who was very slightly singed, and forgot his own hurts in anxiety about his comrade.  “Let me see.”

“My eye!” exclaimed Joe Blunt, while a broad grin overspread his countenance, “ye’ve not improved yer looks, Henri.”

This was true.  The worthy hunter’s hair was singed to such an extent that his entire countenance presented the appearance of a universal frizzle.  Fortunately the skin, although much blackened, was quite uninjured—­a fact which, when he ascertained it beyond a doubt, afforded so much satisfaction to Henri that he capered about shouting with delight, as if some piece of good fortune had befallen him.

The accident had happened in consequence of Henri having omitted to replace the stopper of his powder-horn, and when, in his anxiety for Joe, he fired at random amongst the Indians, despite Dick’s entreaties to wait, a spark communicated with the powder-horn and blew him up.  Dick and Crusoe were only a little singed, but the former was not disposed to quarrel with an accident which had sent their enemies so promptly to the right-about.

This band followed them for some nights, in the hope of being able to steal their horses while they slept; but they were not brave enough to venture a second time within range of the death-dealing rifle.

CHAPTER XXV.

Dangers of the prairie—­Our travellers attacked by Indians, and delivered in a remarkable manner.

There are periods in the life of almost all men A when misfortunes seem to crowd upon them in rapid succession, when they escape from one danger only to encounter another, and when, to use a well-known expression, they succeed in leaping out of the frying-pan at the expense of plunging into the fire.