LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 9 



we get to the fires, the Injuns were among the cavayard. 

 [ saw Ned Colly er and his brother, who were in the hos'- 

 guard, let drive at 'em ; hut twenty Pawnees were round 

 'em before the smoke cleared from their rifles ; and when 

 the crowd broke, the two boys were on the ground and 

 their hair gone. Well, that ar Englishman just saved the 

 cavayard. He had his horse, a regular buffalo -runner, 

 picketed round the fire quite handy, and as soon as he sees 

 the fix, he jumps upon her and rides right into the thick 

 of the mules, and passes through 'em, firing his two-shoot 

 gun at the Injuns ; and, by gor, he made two come. The 

 mules, which was a-snortin' with funk and running before 

 the Injuns, as soon as they see the Englishman's mare 

 (mules '11 go to h after a horse, you all know), followed 

 her right into the corral, and thar they was safe. Fifty 

 Pawnees came screechin' after 'em, but we was ready that 

 time, and the way we throw*d 'em. was something hand- 

 some, I tell you. But three of the hos'-guard got skeared 

 leastwise their mules did, and carried 'em off into the 

 peraira, and the Injuns, having enough of us, dashed after 

 'em right away. Them poor devils looked back miserable 

 now, with about a hundred red varmints tearin' after their 

 hair, and whooping like mad. Young Jem Bulcher was 

 the last ; and when he seed it was no use, and his time was 

 nigh, he throw' d himself off tKe mule, and standing as up- 

 right as a hickory wiping-stick, he waves his hand to us, 

 and blazes away at the first Injun as come up, and dropped 

 him slick ; but the moment after, you. may guess, he died. 



" We could do nothin', for, before our guns were loaded, 

 all three were dead and their scalps gone. Five of our 

 boys got rubbed out that time, and seven Injuns lay wolf's 

 meat, while a many more went away gut-shot, I'll lay. 

 Hows'ever, five of us went under, and the Pawnees made 

 a raise of a dozen mules, wagh ! " 



Thus far, in his own words, we have accompanied the 

 old hunter in his tale ; and probably he would have taken 

 us, by the time that the Squaw Chilipat had pronounced 

 the beaver-tails cooked, safely across the grand prairies 

 fording Cotton Wood, Turkey Creek, Little Arkansa, Wai- 



