LIFEINTHEFARVVEST. 229 



Avith a shrill cry to his assistance : for at that moment a savage, 

 frightful as red paint could make him, was standing over his pros- 

 trate body, brandishing a glittering knife in the air, preparatory to 

 thrusting it into the old man's breast. For the rest, all was con- 

 fusion : in vain the small party of whites struggled against over- 

 powering numbers. Their rifles cracked but once, and they were 

 quickly disarmed ; while 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, while 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 toward 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 blufl', his long hair and the 

 fringes of his hunting-shirt and leggins flying in the wind, his 

 right arm supporting his trusty rifle, while close behind him came 

 Killbuck a-nd the stranger. Dashing with loud hurrahs to the 

 scene of action, La Bonte, as he charged down the bluff', caught 

 sight of the giri 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 the 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, driving the savage backward by the blow itself, at the 

 same moment that the bullet passed through his heart, and tum- 

 bled liim over stone-dead. Throwing down his rifle, La Bonte 



