Wild Western Scenes

by J. B. Jones

  CHAPTER XII.

  Joe's indisposition--His cure--Sneak's reformation--The pursuit--Thecaptive Indian--Approach to the encampment of the savages--Joe'sillness again--The surprise--The terrific encounter--Rescue ofMary--Capture of the young chief--The return.

  We return to the white men. The grief of Roughgrove, and of all theparty, when it was ascertained beyond a doubt that Mary had beencarried off by the savages, was deep and poignant. The aged ferrymansat silent and alone, and would not be comforted, while the rest madethe necessary arrangements to pursue the foe. The sled was so alteredthat blankets, buffalo robes, and a small quantity of food could betaken in it. Bullets were moulded and the guns put in order. Joe wasordered to give the horses water, and place a large quantity ofprovender within their reach. The hounds were fed and then led back totheir kennel, and Glenn announced, after Roughgrove declared hisdetermination to go along, that Ringwood and Jowler alone would beleft to guard the premises.

  "My goodness!" said Joe, when he understood that he was expected tomake one of the pursuing party, "I can't go! My head's so sore, andaches so bad, I couldn't go ten miles before I'd have to give up. Letme stay, Mr. Glenn, and take care of the house."

  "Do you forget that _Mary_ is in the hands of the Indians? Would youhesitate even to _die_, while striving to rescue a poor, innocent,helpless maiden? For shame!" replied Glenn.

  "I'd spill my heart's blood for her," said Joe, "if it would do anygood. But you know how I was crippled last night, and I didn't sleep abit afterwards, hardly."

  "Dod"--commenced Sneak.

  "Joe," said Boone, "from the vigorous manner in which you fought thewolves, I am induced to believe that your present scruples are notwell founded. We will need every man we can obtain."

  "Oh, I wouldn't mind it at all," said Joe, "if it wasn't that you're agoing to start right off now. If I only had a little sleep--"

  "You shall have it," said Boone. Both Glenn and Roughgrove lookedinquiringly at the speaker. "We will not start to-night," continuedhe. "It would be useless. We could not overtake them, and if we did,it would cause them to put Mary to death, that they might escape ourvengeance the more easily. I have duly considered the matter. We mustrest here to-night, and rise refreshed in the morning. We will thenset out on their trail, and I solemnly pledge my word never to returnwithout bringing the poor child back unharmed."

  "I _hope_ my head'll be well by morning," said Joe.

  "I _know_ it will be well enough," said Glenn; "so you need entertainno hope of being left behind."

  "Now, Sneak, a word with you," said Boone. "I think you would do almost_any thing_ for my sake--"

  "If I wouldn't, I wish I may be dod--"

  "Stop!" continued Boone, interrupting him.

  "Jest ax me to cut off my little finger," said Sneak, "and if I don'tdo it, I wish I may be dod--"

  "Stop!" again interposed Boone. "My first request is one that poor_Mary_ asked me to make. I know it will be a severe trial."

  "Name it," cried Sneak, "and if it's to job out one of my eyes, dodrot me if I don't do it!"

  "_Hear_ me," continued Boone; "she desired me to ask you not to usethat ugly word _dod-rot_ any more."

  "Hay!" exclaimed Sneak, his eyes dilating, and his mouth falling wideopen.

  "I know it will be a hard matter," said Boone; "but Mary thinks youhave a good and brave heart, and she says you are the only one amongus that uses bad words."

  "I'd go my death for that gal, or any other female woman in thesettlement, any day of my life. And as she wants me to swaller themwords, that was born with me, dod--I mean, I wish I may be--_indeed_,I'll be starved to death if I don't do it! only when I'm raven mad atsomething, and then I can't help it."

  "Very well," said Boone. "Now I have a request of my own to make."

  "Sing it out! dod--no--nothing! I didn't say it--but I'll _do_ whatyou want me to," said Sneak.

  "I think _you_ will not suffer for the want of sleep," continuedBoone; "and I wish you to go out and get as many of the neighbours tojoin us as possible. You can go to three or four houses by midnight,sleep a little, and meet us here, or in the prairie, in the morning."

  "I shall cut stick--if I don't I wish I may be do--I--_indeed_ Iwill!" and before he ceased speaking he was rushing through the gate.

  The little party then took a hasty repast, and, throwing themselves onthe couches, endeavoured to sleep. Boone and Joe were soon wrapped inslumber; but neither Roughgrove nor Glenn, for a great length of time,could find repose.

  "Strive to be composed, my friend; all will be well," said Glenn, whenthe disconsolate old ferryman gave vent to numerous heart-rendingsighs.

  "If you only knew"--commenced Roughgrove, in reply, and the words hewas about to utter died upon his lips.

  "I can well imagine the extent of your bereavement," said Glenn; "butat the same time I am sure she will be returned to you unharmed."

  "It was not Mary alone I alluded to," said Roughgrove; "but to losetwo children--all that we had--so cruelly--Oh! may we all meet inheaven!"

  "Then you had _two_ children, and lost them both? I never heard theother mentioned," said Glenn, now evincing a most lively interest inthe subject.

  "No--it was my request that it should never be mentioned. Mary and hewere twins--only six years old, when he was lost. I wished Mary toforget entirely that she ever had a brother--it could do no good forher to know it, and would distress her. But now, Heavenly Father! bothare gone!" added the old man, in tears.

  "Was he, too, taken by the Indians? the Osages?" inquired Glenn.

  "No," said Roughgrove. "He had been playing on the margin of theriver, and we were compelled to believe that he fell in the stream andwas drowned--at a time when no eye was upon him. Mary was near athand, but she did not see him fall, nor could she tell how hedisappeared. His poor mother believed that an Indian stole him away.But the only Indians then in the neighbourhood were the Pawnees, andthey were at that time friendly. He was surely drowned. If the Pawneeshad taken him, they would soon have proposed a ransom. Yet his mothercontinually charged them with the deed. In her dreams she ever saw himamong the savages. In all her thoughts it was the same. She pinedaway--she never knew a happy moment afterwards--and when she died, thesame belief was uttered in her last words. I am now alone!" The oldman covered his face with his hands, and sobbed audibly.

  "Bear with patience and resignation," said Glenn, "the dispensationsof an all-wise Providence. All may yet be well. The son, whom youthought lost forever, may be living, and possibly reclaimed, and Maryshall be restored, if human efforts can accomplish it. Cheer up. Manya happy day may still be reserved for you."

  "Oh! my dear young friend! if you but knew _all_!" said Roughgrove.

  "Do I not now know all?" asked Glenn.

  "No," replied the old man; "but the rest must remain a secret--itshould, perhaps, be buried in my breast forever! I will now strive tosleep." They ceased to speak, and silence reigned till morning.

  Joe was roused from his couch in the morning by a tremendous "Ya-hoy!"outside of the inclosure.

  "Run and open the gate," said Glenn.

  "I'd rather not," said Joe, rubbing his eyes.

  "Why?" asked Glenn.

  "Hang it, it's the Indians again!" replied Joe, seizing his musket.

  "It is Sneak and his men," observed Boone, when another shout wasuttered.

  "Hang me, if I don't have a peep at 'em first, anyhow," said Joe,approaching the gate cautiously, and peering through a small crevice.

  "Ya-hoo!" repeated those without.

  "Who are you? why don't you speak out?" said Joe, still unable to seetheir faces.

  "Dod--I mean--plague take it! Joe, is Mr. Boone standing there withyou?" asked Sneak.

  "No," replied Joe, opening the gate.

  "Then dod _rot_ your hide! why didn't you let us in?" said Sneak,rushing through the gate, and followed by five of the neighbours.

  "Why, Sneak, how could I tell that you wern't Indians?" said Joe.
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  "You be dod--never mind!" continued Sneak, shaking his head, andpassing to where Boone stood, near the house.

  "I am glad to see you all," said Boone, extending his hand to each ofthe hardy pioneers. "But let us not waste a moment's time. I see youare all armed. Seize hold of the sled-rope, and let us be off." Thecommand was instantly obeyed, and the party were soon passing out ofthe inclosure. The gate was scarce fastened before another "Ya-hoo!"came from the valley below, and a moment after they were joined byCol. Cooper and Dan. The other oarsman had been sent up the river forreinforcements, and Col. Cooper and Dan having heard the greatexplosion, finally resolved to cross over the river, and not await thearrival of the trappers.

  The party now amounted to twelve, and no time was lost in commencingthe march, or rather the chase; for when they reached the prairie andfound the trail of the snow-canoe, their progress equalled that of thesavages. But they had not gone far before Joe was taken suddenly ill,and begged to be permitted to return.

  "I declare I can hardly hold my head up!" said he still holding on tothe rope, and keeping pace with the rest, though his head hung down.

  "Possomin'--dod--I mean he's jest 'possomin'," said Sneak.

  "No indeed I ain't--plague it, don't _you_ say any thing, Sneak," Joe,added, in an undertone.

  "I am something of a physician," said Boone, whose quick ear hadcaught the words addressed to Sneak. "Let me feel your pulse," headded, ordering the party to halt, and turning to Joe, whose wrist heseized.

  "I feel something better," said Joe, alarmed at the mysterious andsevere expression of Boone's face.

  "I hope you will be entirely well in _two minutes_," said Boone; "andthen it will not be necessary to apply my remedy."

  "I'm about well now," said Joe: "I think I can go ahead."

  "I believe your pulse is good now; and I think you will hardly haveanother attack to-day. If you do, just let me know it."

  "Oh, now I feel perfectly well," responded Joe; and, seizing the rope,they were all soon again flying along on the trail of the savages.

  A little before noon, while casting his eyes along the dim horizon inadvance, Sneak abruptly paused, causing the rest to do likewise, andexclaimed, "Dod rot it."

  "What's the matter, Sneak? Remember the promise you made," said Boone.

  "Oh," replied Sneak, "in sich an extronary case as this, I can't helpsaying that word yet awhile. But look yander!" he continued, pointingto a slight eminence a great distance in advance.

  "True!" said Boone, "that is an Indian--but it is the only onehereabouts."

  "He is coming to meet us," said Glenn.

  "Yes! my goodness! he's looking at us now," cried Joe, retreating afew steps.

  "If there are more of them watching us," said Col. Cooper, "they aresomewhere in our rear."

  "Oh! we're surrounded!" cried Joe, leaping forward again.

  "Come on," said Boone; "we'll soon learn what he wants with us."

  When they were within a few hundred yards of the solitary Indian, theyagain halted, and Joe ran to the sled and seized his musket, which hecocked and threw up to his shoulder.

  "Take down your gun!" said Boone; "that is the Indian whose life wespared. I was not deceived in his integrity. He was not the one thatstole away Mary. I doubt not he brings intelligence of her."

  "God grant she may still be unharmed!" said Roughgrove, advancing tomeet the Indian, who, being now within gunshot, raised his small whiteflag. "Tell me! tell me all about her!" exclaimed Roughgrove, in theOsage language, when he met the Indian. When the Indian informed himof the condition of Mary, the old man could not repress his raptures,his gratitude, or his tears. "She's safe! she's safe! Heaven bepraised!" he exclaimed, turning to his companions, who now came up,and experienced almost as much joy at the announcement as himself.

  "Hang me, if you ain't a right clever fellow," said Joe, shaking theIndian's hand quite heartily. "Now," he continued, when all theparticulars of Mary's escape were made known, "there won't be any usein fighting; we can just get Miss Mary out of the snow, and then gohome again."

  "You don't know--keep your mouth shet--dod--," said Sneak, suppressingthe last word.

  "We are not sure of that," said Boone; "on the contrary, I think itis very probable we shall have fighting yet. When the war-partydiscover the deception, (as they must have done ere this,) they willretrace their steps. If it was early in the day when they ascertainedthat the captive had escaped, we may expect to see them very soon. Ifit was late, we will find them in the grove where they encamped. Ineither event we must expect to fight--and fight hard too--for theyoutnumber us considerably."

  Joe sighed, but said nothing.

  "Are you getting ill again?" inquired Boone.

  "No--I was only blowing--I got a little tired," said Joe, in scarcearticulate tones.

  "And I feel weak--very weak--but it is with joy!" said Roughgrove.

  "And I have observed it, too," said Boone. "Get in the sled; we willpull you along till your strength returns."

  "I will be able to use my gun when I meet the foe," said the old man,getting into the sled.

  The party set forward again, guided by the Indian, and in highspirits. The consciousness that Mary was in safety removed a weightfrom the breasts of all; and, as they ran along, many a light jest andpleasant repartee lessened the weariness of the march. Even Joe smiledonce or twice when Boone, in a mock heroic manner alluded to hisexploits among the wolves.

  "Blast me," said Joe, when Sneak mentioned a few cases of equivocalcourage as an offset to Boone's compliments, "blast me, if I haven'tkilled more Indians than any of you, since I have been in this plaguedcountry."

  "True--that is, your musket has," said Boone.

  "Joe can fight sometimes," said Glenn, smiling.

  "I'll be hanged if I haven't always fought, when there was anyfighting going on," said Joe, reproachfully.

  "Yes, and he'll fight again, as manfully as any of us," said Boone.

  "Dod--why, what are you holding back for so hard?" said Sneak,remarking that Joe at that instant seemed to be much excited, and,instead of going forward, actually brought the whole party to a modelate walk by his counter exertion.

  "What do you mean?" asked Glenn.

  "Are you going to be ill?" asked Boone.

  "No, goodness, no! Only listen to me a minute. An idea struck me,which I thought it was my duty to tell. I thought this Indian might bedeceiving us. Suppose he leads us right into an ambush when we'retalking and laughing, and thinking there's no danger.

  "Dod--you're a cowardly fool!" said Sneak.

  "I have likewise a remedy for interruptions--I advise rot to stopagain," said Boone, when Joe once more started forward.

  Just as night was setting in, the party came in sight of the grovewhere Mary was concealed. They slackened their pace and drew near thedark woods quite cautiously. When they entered the edge of the grove,they heard the war-party utter the yell which had awakened Mary. Itwas fully understood by Boone, and the friendly Indian assured themfrom the sound, that the Osages had just returned, and were at thatmoment leaving the encampment on his trail. But he stated that theycould not find the pale-faced maiden. And he suggested to the whites aplan of attack, which was to station themselves near the place wherehe had emerged from the grove, after hiding Mary; so that when theyfollowed on his trail they could thus be surprised without difficulty.This advice was adopted by Boone. The Indian then asked permission todepart, saying he had paid the white men for sparing his life.

  "Oh no!" cried Joe, when Roughgrove interpreted the Indian's request,"keep him as a hostage--he may be cheating us."

  "I do not see the impropriety of Joe's remark this time," said Glenn.

  "Ask him where he will go, if we suffer him to depart," said Boone. ToRoughgrove's interrogation, the Indian made a passionate reply. Hesaid the white men were liars. They were now quits. Still the whitemen were not satisfied. He had risked his life (and would probably betortured) to pay back the white men's kindn
ess. But they would notbelieve his words. He was willing to die now. The white men mightshoot him.. He would as willingly die as live. If suffered to depart,it was his intention to steal his squaw away from the tribe, and jointhe Pawnees. He would never be an Osage again.

  "Go!" said Boone, perceiving by a ray of moonlight that reached theIndian's face through the clustering branches of the trees above, thathe was in tears. The savage, without speaking another word, leaped outinto the prairie, and from the circuitous direction he pursued, it wasmanifest that nothing could be further from his desire than to fall inwith the war-party.

  Boone directed the sled to be abandoned, and, obedient to his will,the party entered a small covert in the immediate vicinity of the spotwhere their guide said he had emerged from the grove on his return tomeet the whites. Here the party long remained esconced, silent andlistening, and expecting every moment to see the foe. At length Boonegrew impatient, and concluding they would encamp that night under thespreading tree, (the locality of which he was familiar with,) heresolved to advance and surprise them. He was strengthened in thisdetermination by the repeated and painful surmises of Roughgroverespecting Mary's piteous condition. Glenn, and the rest, with perhapsone or two exceptions, likewise seemed disposed to make aninstantaneous termination of the torturing suspense respecting thefate of the poor girl.

  Boone and Sneak led the way. The party were compelled to proceed withthe utmost caution. Sometimes they were forced to crawl many paces ontheir hands and knees under the pendent snow-covered bushes. They drewnear the spreading tree. A fire was burning under it, the flickeringrays of which could be occasionally seen glimmering through thebranches. A stick was heard to break a little distance on one side,and Boone and Sneak sank down on the snow, and whispered to the restto follow their example. It was done without a repetition of theorder. Joe was the hindmost of all, but after lying a few minutes insilence, he crept softly forward, trembling all the while. When hereached the side of Boone, the aged woodman did not chide him, butsimply pointed his finger towards a small decayed log a few pacesdistant. Joe looked but a moment, and then pulling his hat over hiseyes, laid down flat on his face, in silence and submission. An Indianwas seated on the log, and very composedly cutting off the dry barkwith his tomahawk. Once or twice he paused and remained a moment in alistening attitude. But probably thinking the sounds he heard (if heheard any) proceeded from some comrade like himself in quest of fuel,he continued to cut away, until an armful was obtained, and then verydeliberately arose and walked with an almost noiseless step to thefire, which was not more than fifty yards distant. Boone rose softlyand whispered the rest to follow. He was promptly obeyed by all exceptJoe.

  "Come, sir! prepare your musket to fire," said Boone, stooping down toJoe, who still remained apparently frozen to the snow-crust.

  "Oh! I'm so sick!" replied Joe.

  "If you do not keep with us, you will lose your scalp to a certainty,"said Boone. Joe was well in a second. The party were now about midwaybetween the fallen trunk where Mary was concealed, and the greatencampment-tree. Boone rose erect for an instant, and beheld theformer, and the single Indian (the chief) who was there. One of theIndians again started out from the fire, in the direction of thewhites for more fuel. Boone once more passed the word for his littleband to lie down. The tall savage came within a few feet of them. Histomahawk accidentally fell from his hand, and in his endeavour tocatch it, he knocked it within a few feet of Sneak's head. He steppedcarelessly aside, and stooped down for it. A strangling and gushingsound was heard, and falling prostrate, he died without a groan. Sneakhad nearly severed his head from his body at one blow with hishunting-knife.

  At this juncture Mary sprang from her hiding-place. Her voice reachedthe ears of her father, but before he could run to her assistance, thechiefs loud tones rang through the forest. Boone and the rest sprangforward, and fired upon the savages under the spreading tree. At thesecond discharge the Indians gave way, and while Col. Cooper, theoarsmen, and the neighbours that had joined the party in the morning,pursued the flying foe, Boone and the remainder ran towards the fallentrunk where Mary had been concealed, but approaching in differentdirections. Glenn was the first to rush upon the chief, and it was hisball that whizzed so near the Indian's head when he bore away theshrieking maiden. The rest only fired in the direction of the log, notthinking that Mary had left her covert. They soon met at the fallentree, under which was the pit, all except Glenn, who sprang forward inpursuit of the chief, and Sneak, who had made a wide circuit for thepurpose of reaching the scene of action from an opposite direction,entirely regardless of the danger of being shot by his friends.

  "It is your father, my poor child!" said Roughgrove,pressing the girl to his heart.--P. 165]

  "She's gone! she's gone!" exclaimed Roughgrove, looking aghast at thevacated pit under the fallen trunk. "But we will have her yet," saidBoone, as he heard Glenn discharge a pistol a few paces apart in thebushes. The report was followed by a yell, not from the chief, butSneak, and the next moment the rifle of the latter was likewise heard.Still the Indian was not dispatched, for the instant afterwards histomahawk, which was hurled without effect, came sailing over thebushes, and penetrated a tree hard by, some fifteen or twenty feetabove the earth, where it entered the wood with such force that itremained firmly fixed. Now succeeded a struggle--a violent blow washeard--the fall of the Indian, and all was comparatively still. Aminute afterwards, Sneak emerged from the thicket, bearing theinanimate body of Mary in his arms, and followed by Glenn.

  "Is she dead? Oh, she's dead!" cried Roughgrove, snatching her fromthe arms of Sneak.

  "She has only fainted!" exclaimed Glenn, examining the body of thepale girl, and finding no wounds.

  "She is recovering!" said Boone, feeling her pulse.

  "God be praised!" exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation wasmanifest.

  "Oh! I know you won't kill me! For pity's sake spare me!" said Mary.

  "It is your father, my poor child!" said Roughgrove, pressing the girlto his heart.

  "It is! it is!" cried the happy girl, clinging rapturously to the oldman's neck, and then, seizing the hands of the rest, she seemed to behalf wild with delight.

  "Dod--I--I mean that none of the black noctilerous savages shall everhurt you as long as Sneak lives," said Sneak, looking down at his gun,which had been broken off at the breech.

  "How did you break that?" asked Boone.

  "I broke it over the yaller feller's head," said he, "and I'd do itagin, before he should hurt Miss Mary, if it _is_ the only one I'vegot."

  "I have an extra rifle at home," said Glenn, "which shall be yours, asa reward for your gallant conduct."

  "Where is the chief? Is he dead?" asked Mary.

  "If he ain't dead, his head's harder than my gun, that's all," saidSneak.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry!" said Mary.

  "Why, my child?" asked Roughgrove.

  "Because," said Mary, "he's a good-hearted Indian, and never wouldhave harmed me. When he heard you coming, and raised his tomahawk tokill me, I looked in his face, and he could not strike, for there weretears in his eyes! I know he never would have thought of killing me,when calm, for he treated me very kindly before I escaped."

  "Maybe he ain't dead--I'll go and see," said Sneak, repairing to thelate scene of conflict. When he arrived he found the young chiefsitting upright, having been only stunned; a gold band that confinedhis head-dress prevented the blow from fracturing his skull. He wasnow unresisting and sullen. Sneak made him rise up, and after bindinghis hands behind him with a strong cord, led him forth.

  "You did not intend to kill me, did you?" asked Mary, in soothingtones. The chief regarded her not, but looked steadfastly downwards.

  "He don't understand you, Mary," said Boone.

  "Oh, yes he does," continued Mary; "and he can speak our language,too, for I heard him talking, and thought it was you, and that was thereason why I came out of the pit." Roughgrove addressed him in his ownlanguage, but with no be
tter success. The captured chief resolved notto plead for his life. He would make no reply whatever to theirquestions, but still gazed downwards in reckless sullenness.

  "What shall we do with him?" asked Glenn, when the rest of the party,(with the exception of Joe,) who had chased the savages far away, cameup and stared at the prisoner.

  "Let us set him free!" said Roughgrove.

  "Kill him!" cried several.

  "No!" exclaimed Mary, "what do _you_ say, Mr. Boone?"

  "It would be useless to kill him," said Boone.

  "Let him go, then," said Glenn.

  "No!" said Boone.

  "Why?" asked Glenn.

  "Because," replied Boone, "he is a chief, and we may make him themeans of securing the settlement against future attacks. We willconfine him in your garrison as a hostage, and send some friendlyIndian to the Osages announcing his capture, and informing them thathis life will be spared provided they keep away from the settlementfor a certain length of time, at the expiration of which he shall berestored to them."

  "I am glad of that," said Mary, "for I don't believe he is a badIndian. We will treat him kindly, and then I think he will always beour friend."

  "Take him along, and bind him fast in the sled, Sneak," said Boone;"but see that you do not injure him in the least."

  "I will. Oh, me and him are purty good friends now. Gee-whoa-haw,"continued he, taking hold of the string behind, and endeavouring todrive the silent captive like an ox. The young chief whirled roundindignantly, and with such force as to send Sneak sprawling severalpaces to one side. He rose amid the laughter that ensued, andremembering the words of Boone, conducted his prisoner away in a morerespectful manner.

  "Where's Joe?" at length inquired Glenn, seeing that he alone wasmissing.

  "Oh! I'm afraid he's dead," said Mary.

  "If he is, I shall mourn his loss many a day," said Glenn; "for withall his defects, I would not be without him for the world."

  "Give yourself no uneasiness," said Boone; "for he is as well at thismoment as you or I."

  "I hope so," said Glenn; "but I have not seen him since we first firedat the Indians."

  "Let us repair to that spot, and there we will find him, for I saw himfall down when he discharged his musket. I venture to say he has notmoved an inch since."

  The party repaired to the place mentioned, and there they found him,sure enough, lying quite still on his face beside the Indian thatSneak had killed.

  "He _is_ dead!" said Glenn, after calling to him and receiving noanswer.

  "We'll soon see," said Boone, turning him over on his back. "I willopen a vein in his arm."

  "Bring a torch from the fire," said Col. Cooper to one of the men.

  "Oh!" sighed Joe, lifting his hands to his head.

  "I thought he would soon come to life again," said Boone, examininghis face with the torch that was brought, and then laughing outright.The spectacle was ludicrous in the extreme. Joe was besmeared withblood, and, when he opened his eyes and stared at the flaming light,he resembled some sanguinary demon.

  "Where in the world did all this blood come from?" exclaimed Glenn.

  "I'm recovered now," said Joe, rising up and assuming an air ofimportance.

  "What have you been doing?" asked Glenn.

  "I've been doing as much as any of you, I'll be bound," replied Joe,very gravely.

  "Well, what have you done?" repeated Glenn.

  "I've been fighting the last half hour, as hard as anybody ever foughtin this world. Only look at the stabs in that Indian!" said he,pointing to the savage.

  "Why, you scoundrel! Sneak killed this Indian," said Glenn.

  "Sneak thought he did," replied Joe, "but he only wounded him. After awhile he got up and clinched me by the throat, and we had it over andover on the snow, till we both got so exhausted we couldn't do anything. When we rested, we went at it again, and it hasn't been fiveminutes since I stuck my knife in his breast. When he fell, I stuckhim four or five times, and then fainted myself."

  "Here is a wound in the savage's breast," said Glenn.

  "But here's another in the throat," said Boone, showing where thearteries had been severed by Sneak.

  "Joe," said Glenn, "you must abandon this habit of lying, if indeed itis not a portion of your nature."

  "Hang it all, I ain't lying--I know Sneak did cut his throat, but hedidn't cut it deep--I cut it deeper, myself, after the Indian got upagain!" persisted he.

  The party hastily glanced at the four or five dead savages under thetrees, that had fallen victims to their fire, and then returned to thesled. Mary was placed beside the captive chief, and they set out ontheir return, well satisfied with the result of the expedition.