IN THE OLD WEST 195 



and his companion rode to his side, to inquire the 

 cause of this abrupt halt. They were within a 

 few yards of the belt of shrubs which skirted the 

 stream; and before Markhead had time to reply, 

 a dozen swarthy heads and shoulders suddenly 

 protruded from the leafy screen, and as many 

 rifle-barrels and arrows were pointing at their 

 breasts. Before the trappers had time to turn 

 their horses and fly, a cloud of smoke burst from 

 the thicket almost in their faces. Batiste, 

 pierced with several balls, fell dead, and Mark- 

 head felt himself severely wounded. However, he 

 struck the spurs into his horse ; and as some half- 

 score Blackfeet jumped with loud cries from their 

 cover, he discharged his rifle amongst them, and 

 galloped off, a volley of balls and arrows whistling 

 after him. He drew no bit until he reined up at 

 the camp-fire, where he found Bill quietly dressing 

 a deer-skin. That worthy looked up from his 

 work ; and seeing Markhead's face streaming with 

 blood, and the very unequivocal evidence of an In- 

 dian rencontre in the shape of an arrow sticking 

 in his back, he asked, " Do 'ee feel bad, now, boy ? 

 Whar away you see them darned Blackf oot ? " 



" Well, pull this arrow out of my back, and 

 maybe I'll feel like telling," answered Markhead. 



" Do 'ee hyar, now? hold on till I've grained 

 this cussed skin, will 'ee? Did 'ee ever see sich 

 a darned pelt, now? it won't take the smoke any- 

 how I fix it." And Markhead was fain to wait 



