Acting on pure instinct, Nate grabbed at his pistols.  His left moccasin stepped on a loose rock and he tripped, starting to fall backwards onto the very stones the rattler had been concealed under.
   The venomous reptile's tail began to buzz loudly.
   Nate came down hard on his back, wincing when the sharp edges of several jagged rocks lanced into his body.  He pulled the pistols free and cocked them at the same instant the rattler struck.
   The snake speared its head at his right foot.
   As if in slow motion, Nate saw the rattler open its mouth, saw the snake's long, hooked fangs ready to tear into his skin, and he jerked his leg away from that deadly maw.  He saw the reptile miss by the merest fraction, and then he had the pistols extended and pointed at the rattlesnake.  his fingers tightened and both guns cracked and belched smoke.  For several seconds he couldn't see the serpent.

  A WARY WELCOME

They were almost upon the Flathead village.  Many of the warriors, women, and children stopped whatever they were doing to stare.  Several members of the tribe shouted friendly greetings to the frontiersman, who responded good-naturedly.
   A few dozen yards to the north were three men on horseback.  They were engaged in earnest conversation with a Flathead warrior.  One of the trio abruptly looked up and straightened, a wily grin creasing his thin visage.
   "All your guns are loaded, I trust?"  Shakespeare unexpectedly inquired.
   "Certainly.  Why?"
   The frontiersman nodded at the trio.  "You may need them in a minute."