LIFE IN THE FAB WEST. 203 



the small party of whites struggled against overpowering 

 numbers. Their rifles cracked but once, and they were 

 quickly disarmed ; whilst the shrieks of the women and 

 children, and the loud yells of the Indians, added to the 

 scene of horror and confusion. As Mary flew to her 

 father's side, an Indian threw his lasso at her, the noose 

 falling over her shoulders, and jerking it tight, he uttered 

 a delighted yell as the poor girl was thrown back violently 

 to the ground. As she fell, another deliberately shot an 

 arrow at her body, whilst the one who had thrown the 

 lasso rushed forward, his scalp-knife flashing in his hand, 

 to seize the bloody trophy of his savage deed. The girl 

 rose to her knees, and looked wildly towards the spot 

 where her father lay bathed in blood ; but the Indian 

 pulled the rope violently, dragged her some yards upon 

 the ground, and then rushed with a yell of vengeance upon 

 his victim. He paused, however, as at that moment a 

 shout as fierce as his own sounded at his very ear ; and, 

 looking up, he saw La Bonte galloping madly down the 

 bluff, his long hair and the fringes of his hunting-shirt 

 and leggings flying in the wind, his right arm supporting his 

 trusty rifle, whilst close behind him came Killbuck and 

 the stranger. Dashing with loud hurrahs to the scene of 

 action, La Bonte, as he charged down the bluff, caught 

 sight of the girl struggling in the hands of the ferocious 

 Indian. Loud was the war-shout of the mountaineer, as 

 he struck his heavy spurs to the rowels in his horse's side, 

 and bounded like lightning to the rescue. In a single 

 stride he was upon the Indian, and thrusting the muzzle 

 of his rifle into his very breast, he pulled the trigger, driv- 

 ing the savage backward by the blow itself, at the same 

 moment that the bullet passed through his heart and 

 tumbled him over stone-dead. Throwing down his rifle, 

 La Bonte wheeled his obedient horse, and, drawing a pistol 

 from his belt, again charged the enemy, among whom 

 Killbuck and the stranger were dealing death-giving blows. 

 Yelling for victory, the mountaineers rushed at the Indians; 

 and they, panic-struck at the sudden attack, and thinking 

 this was but the advanced-guard of a large band, fairly 



