Nate started to step backward and to aim the Hawken at the phantom figure, but his adversary was on him before he could squeeze the trigger.  A heavy body slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him even as he was brutally smashed to the earth.
   As Nate made a valiant effort to stand and resist the attackers, rough hands tore the Hawken from his hands.  Other men seized his arms and held them fast while his pistols, knife, and tomahawk were stripped from him.
   At the corner of the cabin a similar struggle was taking place.   Zach was in the grip of three buckskin-clad Indians who had taken his rifle and were trying to wrest his knife from him.
   From inside the cabin, Winona shouted,  "What has happened?   Are you all right?"
   "Stay in there and keep the door barred!"  Nate said.   "The Utes have us!"

   "This is terrible, most terrible!"  Pepin said in his animated way.  "The Indians in this country are too brazen, too vicious.  They deserve to be hunted down and made to pay."
   "By now the war party might be many miles away," Shakespeare said.
   "So?" Pepin touched the tomahawk at his belt.  "In Canada we would never let such a foul act go unpunished!  It boils the blood to think of it!"
   Nate, busy starting a fire, looked at the fiery trapper.   "If it's the same bunch I saw, there are nine of them and only four of us.   We'd be committing suicide if we went after them."
   "Are we yellow?"  Pepin said gruffly, "I say we teach these savages a lesson and get back all of the hides and horses that were stolen.   I say we kill each and every one of the braves responsible."
   "I'm with you!"  Jenks cried.
   Nate, with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, saw that his real troubles were just beginning.