LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 23 



" Wagh ! boy, you've struck a coup ; so scalp the 

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



The morning broke clear and cold. With the excep- 

 tion 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 previous 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 

 involuntary 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 undis- 

 covered, 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 melan- 

 choly 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 he, " I get back my old 

 mule ; she's carried me and my traps these twelve years, 



