60 ON THE FEONTIEE, 



and coming came together it stopped, and the bright light 

 fell on a striking picture. 



A black powerful Indian pony, gay with trappings and 

 plumes, and mounted on it a stalwart Indian. His bow 

 and arrows, and his long slim lance, hung crosswise at his 

 back ; his rifle lay athwart his saddle bow ; the fringes of 

 his hunting-shirt, and the stained feathers of his head- 

 dress, gently stirred and fluttered in the night air. He 

 turned in his saddle at right angles to his horse, and 

 became motionless, gazing fixedly in the direction of our 

 camp. 



Now was the opportunity. While the Indian had been 

 approaching, the sentinel, in anticipation of possible even- 

 tualities, had taken off his hat, rolled it tightly up, and laid 

 it as a rest for his rifle upon the stone before him to 

 prevent the jar that, should he have occasion to fire, would 

 otherwise affect the direction of his ball and on it the 

 rifle had been laid. The rifle's lock was at full cock, its 

 hair-trigger set ; its long, thin, ivory front sight showed in 

 the strong moonlight clearly and distinctly, and was drawn 

 well down into the fine semi-circular notch of the buck- 

 horn bind sight a notch no bigger than half the eye of 

 an ordinary sewing-needle. It looked like a small shining 

 china bead of the Indian's hunting-shirt. The stock of 

 the rifle was slowly depressed, bringing the line of sight 

 carefully, steadily upward. The small white bead was in 

 relief against the darkness of the Indian's face, and the 

 index finger of the sentinel's right hand was laid to the 

 side of the hair-trigger. The movement of a muscle would 

 send an ounce-and-a- third of lead crashing through the 



