IN THE OLD WEST 51 



the nigger right off, and then fetch me a drink." 

 The morning broke clear and cold. With the 

 exception of a light cloud which hung over Pike's 

 Peak, the sky was spotless ; and a perfect calm 

 had succeeded the boisterous storm of the pre- 

 vious night. The creek was swollen and turbid 

 with the rains ; and as La Bonte proceeded a little 

 distance down the bank to find a passage to the 

 water, he suddenly stopped short, and an involun- 

 tary cry escaped him. Within a few feet of the 

 bank lay the body of one of his companions, who 

 had formed the guard at the time of the Indians' 

 attack. It was lying on the face, pierced through 

 the chest with an arrow which was buried to the 

 very feathers, and the scalp torn from the bloody 

 skull. Beyond, but all within a hundred yards, 

 lay the three others, dead, and similarly mutilated. 

 So certain had been the aim, and so close the 

 enemy, that each had died without a struggle, and 

 consequently had been unable to alarm the camp. 

 La Bonte, with a glance at the bank, saw at once 

 that the wily Indians had crept along the creek, 

 the noise of the storm facilitating their approach 

 undiscovered, and, crawling up the bank, had 

 watched their opportunity to shoot simultaneously 

 the four hunters on guard. 



Returning to Killbuck, he apprised him of the 

 melancholy fate of their companions, and held a 

 council of war as to their proceedings. The old 

 hunter's mind was soon made up. " First," said 



