450 BIG GAME OF WORTH AMERICA. 



At last we fancy we hear a shot. Then another. Yes, 

 there are three more. We are saved! Blindly groping our 

 way in the direction of the welcome sounds, we fire the last 

 shots remaining in our belts, and keep yelling at the top of 

 our voices. At last we hear the answering shouts, and soon 

 see the torch, carried by the party who so opportunely had 

 heard our shots. 



We are soon among them ; they are Lummi Indians. Lead- 

 ing us to their camp, we are soon seated by a blazing fire. 

 For several minutes we absorb the warmth, too glad to 

 utter a sound. Though no questions are asked by our res- 

 cuers, many questioning glances are cast in our direction. 

 Finally, having got our limbs and tongues thawed out, 

 the engineer proceeded to enlighten the Indians, in Chi- 

 nook, as to the reason of our strange appearance amongst 

 them. They set before us a piece of venison and a bowl of 

 corn-mush, which soon -disappeared; then the pipe was 

 passed, and they all settled down again into gloomy silence. 



A motley group were they — some young, some old; dark- 

 skinned, black-haired, broad-faced, heavy-limbed; short of 

 stature, but broad and long bodied, with short legs, reced- 

 ing brows, and prominent cheek and skull bones. 



They sat cross-legged, gazing into the glowing coals, pay- 

 ing no further attention to us. They were a hunting-party 

 who were out after the Big Horns, the Deer, Elk, Cougar, 

 Bear, and 'Coons. Their only weapons were the ancient 

 pieces of iron, with the wooden handles, such as are bar- 

 tered by the Hudson' s Bay Company in exchange for furs. 

 They are, however, carefully cleaned every night, oiled, and 

 put away in the woolen or buckskin sack, for further use 

 the following day. 



The Puget Sound Indian is not, as a rule, a good shot, 

 but understands the habits of all game, and wild animals. 

 He is very saving of his ammunition, and wastes no powder 

 or balls on uncertainties. He must be close to his quarry 

 before his ancient piece of ordnance is discharged. Snaking 

 himself through the woods on all fours, traveling, perhaps, 

 not more than a hundred yards in an hour, he is a 



