IN THE OLD WEST 195 



and his companion rode to his side, to inquire the 

 cause of this abrupt halt. They were within a 

 few yards of the belt of shinibs which skirted the 

 stream; and before Markhead had time to reply, 

 a dozen swarthy heads and shoulders suddenly 

 protruded from the leafy screen, and as many 

 rifle-barrels and arrows were pointing* at their 

 breasts. Before the trappers had time to turn 

 their horses and fly, a cloud of smoke burst from 

 the thicket almost in their faces. Batiste, 

 pierced with several balls, fell dead, and Mark- 

 head felt himself severely wounded. However, he 

 struck the spurs into his horse; and as some half- 

 score Blackfeet jumped with loud cries from their 

 cover, he discharged his rifle amongst them, and 

 galloped off, a volley of balls and arrows whistling 

 after him. He drew no bit until he reined up at 

 the camp-fire, where he found Bill quietly dressing 

 a deer-skin. That worthy looked up from his 

 work ; and seeing Markhead's face streaming with 

 blood, and the very unequivocal evidence of an In- 

 dian rencontre in the shape of an arrow sticking 

 in his back, he asked, — " Do 'ee feel bad, now, boy? 

 Whar away you see them darned Blackf oot ? " 



" Well, pull this arrow out of my back, and 

 maybe I'll feel like telling," answered Markhead. 



"Do 'ee hyar, now.? hold on till I've grained 

 this cussed skin, will 'ee.? Did 'ee ever see sich 

 a darned pelt, now? it won't take the smoke any- 

 how I fix it." And Markhead was fain to wait 



