i62 CANADIAN NIGHTS 



Scotch gillie Sandie, and I, started off to take up 

 the trail of the sheep. We galloped along till 

 opposite the place where I had last seen theni^ 

 picketed our horses, and commenced climbing the 

 hills. We had not gone twenty yards when we 

 saw something moving in the far distance. Out 

 with the glasses ! Perhaps it is one of the sheep, 

 I thought. " Hallo ! " I cried, amid general con- 

 sternation, " it is a man." Another good look. 

 " No, it is a woman." " No, a man in a blanket. 

 An Indian ! " Without another word, down we 

 went flat as serpents in the long grass, crawled 

 back to our horses, and then helter-skelter back 

 to camp as hard as we could go. We found camp 

 in a bustle, men with their carbines in their hands 

 saddling up, tents being taken down, and a lot of 

 ugly-looking savages sitting about three or four 

 hundred yards off on a rock, with their blankets 

 drawn up to their noses, looking on, while several 

 more noble redskins were hovering about in the dis- 

 tance. It did not look pleasant. More and more 

 Indians kept arriving, some with the carcasses 

 of deer on their saddles — the villains ! what right 

 had they to come marauding on our hunting 

 grounds ? — and after a while a lot of them, getting 

 bold, came into camp, making friendly signs, 



