LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 131 



traps and remove from so dangerous a neighborhood. They were 

 approaching the spot where the first trap was set, si thick growth 

 of ash and quaking-ash conceaUng the stream, when Markhead, 

 who was riding ahead, observed the bushes agitated, as if some 

 animal was making its way through them. He instantly stopped 

 his horse, 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 

 shrubs 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 

 Markhead 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 among 

 them, and galloped ofl^, 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 Indian 

 rencounter in the shape of an arrow sticking in his back, he asked 

 — "Do 'ee feel bad now, boy ? Whar away you see them darned 

 Blackfoot?" 



" Well, pull this arrow out of my back, and may be I'll feel 

 like telling," answered Markhead. 



" Do 'ee hyar now I hold on till I've grained this cussed skin, 

 will 'ee I 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 the 

 leisure of the imperturbable old trapper, before he was eased of 

 his annoying companion. 



Old Bill expressed no surprise or grief when informed of the fate 

 of poor Batiste, He said it was "just like greenhorns, runnni' 



