He extended his open palm; it was smeared with wet clay like that under his feet.

Simultaneously with their muttered exclamations the braves grasped their weapons.

They knew there was a foe above them.

It was a paleface, for an Indian would have revealed himself.
The hunter, seeing he was discovered, acted with the unerring judgment and lightning-like rapidity of one long accustomed to perilous situations.

Drawing his tomahawk and noiselessly stepping to the hole in the loft, he leaped into the midst of the astounded Indians.
Rising from the floor like the rebound of a rubber ball, his long arm with the glittering hatchet made a wide sweep, and the young braves scattered like frightened sheep.
He made a dash for the door and, incredible as it may seem, his movements were so quick he would have escaped from their very midst without a scratch but for one unforeseen circumstance.