LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 23 



spree," &c. — that a whizzing noise was heard in the air, followed 

 by a sharp but suppressed cry from one of the hunters. 



In an instant the mountaineers had sprung from their seats, 

 and, seizing the ever-ready rifle, each one had thrown himself on 

 the ground a few paces beyond the light of the fire (for it was 

 now nightfall) ; but not a word escaped them, as, lying close, 

 with their keen eyes directed toward the gloom of the thicket, 

 near which the camp was placed, with rifles cocked, they waited 

 a renewal of the attack. Presently the leader of the band, no 

 other than Killbuck, who had so lately been recounting some of 

 his experiences across the plains, and than whom no more crafty 

 woodsman or more expert trapper ever tracked a deer or grained 

 a beaverskin, raised his tall, leather-clad form, and, placing his 

 hand over his mouth, made the prairie ring with the wild, pro- 

 tracted note of an Indian war-whoop. This was instantly repeat- 

 ed from the direction where the animals belonging to the camp 

 were grazing, under the charge of the horse-guard. Three shrill 

 whoops answered the warning of the leader, and showed that the 

 guard was on the alert, and understood the signal. However, 

 with the manifestation of their presence the Indians appeared to 

 be satisfied ; or, what is more probable, the act of aggression had 

 been committed by some daring young warrior, who, being out oft 

 his first expedition, desired to strike the first coup, and thus signal- 

 ize himself at the outset of the campaign. After waiting some 

 few minutes, expecting a renewal of the attack, the mountaineers 

 in a body rose from the ground and made toward the animals, 

 with which they presently returned to the camp ; and, after care- 

 fully hobbling and securing them to pickets firmly driven into the 

 ground, mounting an additional guard, and examining the neigh- 

 boring thicket, they once more assembled round the fire, relit 

 their pipes, and puffed away the cheering weed as composedly as 

 if no such being as a Hedskin, thirsting for their lives, was Avithin 

 a thousand miles of their perilous encampment. 



