HUNTERS AND TRAPPERS IN THE FAR WEST. 77 



wounded scalp. "Is the top-knot gone, boy?" asked Kill 

 buck; "for my head feels queersome, I tell you." 



"Thar's the Injun as felt like lifting it," answered the 

 other, kicking the dead body with his foot. 



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

 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 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 hun- 

 dred yards, lay the three others, dead, and similarly muti- 

 lated. 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 ap- 

 proach undiscovered, and crawling up the bank, had watched 

 their opportunity to shoot 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 he, "I get back my old mule; she's carried 

 me and my traps these twelve years, and I aint a goin' to 

 lose her yet. Second, I feel like taking hair, and some 

 Hapahos has to ' go under' for this night's work. Third We 

 have got to cache the beaver. Fourth We take the Injun 

 trail, wharever it leads. 



7* 



