LA BONTE'S ADVENTURES. 137 



Loosening their girths, they permitted their tired animals 

 to feed on the scanty herbage which presented itself, while 

 they refreshed themselves with a pipe of tobacco for they 

 had no meat of any description with them, and the country 

 afforded no game. As the first streak of dawn appeared in 

 the east, they mounted their horses, after first examining their 

 rifles, and moved cautiously toward the Indian village. As 

 it was scarcely light enough for their operations, they waited 

 behind a sandhill in the vicinity, until objects became more 

 distinct, and then, emerging from their cover, with loud war- 

 whoops, charged into the midst of the village. 



As the frightened Indians were scarcely risen from their 

 beds, no opposition was given to the daring mountaineers, 

 who, rushing upon the flying crowd, discharged their rifles at 

 close quarters, and then, springing from their horses, attacked 

 them knife in hand, and only ceased the work of butchery 

 when nine Indians lay dead upon the ground. All this time 

 the women, half dead with fright, were huddled together on 

 the ground, howling piteously ; and the mountaineers ad- 

 vancing to them, whirled their lassoes round their heads, and 

 throwing the open nooses into the midst, hauled out three of 

 them, and securing their arms in the rope, bound them to a 

 tree, and then proceeded to scalp the dead bodies. While 

 they were engaged in this work, an old Indian, withered and 

 grisly, and hardly bigger than an ape, suddenly emerged from 

 a rock, holding in his left hand a bow and a handful of arrows, 

 while one was already drawn to the head. Running toward 

 them, and almost before the hunters were aware of his pre- 

 sence, he discharged an arrow at a few yards' distance,* which 

 buried itself in the ground not a foot from La Bonte's head, 

 as he bent over the body of an Indian he was scalping ; and 

 hardly had the whiz ceased, when whirr flew another, strik- 

 ing him in the right shoulder. Before the Indian could fit a 

 third arrow to his bow, La Bonte sprang upon him, seized 

 him by the middle, and spinning his pigmy form round his 



12* 



