APRIL 14, 1906.] 

had to do all the hunting. JI remained ill, or 
hurt my leg, or my horse was missing, so I 
couldn’t go out. And it was truly wonderful the 
amount of meat we used. Nat-ah’-ki carried out 
quantities of it every day, and gave it to the 
needy ones of the camp, widows and others who 
had no one to hunt for them. But I did not 
remain in camp, because of this. As soon as 
Ashton and his hunting partner, either Weasel 
Tail or some other friend, had departed, I would 
go berrying with the women, or Nat-ah’-ki and 
I would saddle up and have a ride somewhere 
in a direction opposite to that in which they 
were traveling. But for all his hard work, I 
could not see that Ashton became any more 
cheerful. The improvement was that he had less 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
585 

when there suddenly appeared a number of 
riders tearing down the north slope of the 
valley, and the camp began to hum with excite- 
ment. One or two of the riders were waving 
their robes, making the sign for the “enemy.” 
Men and boys grabbed lariats and started on the 
run for their horses. Down into the camp came 
the little bunch of riders, and a moment later 
Ashton rode up beside me. He had a young 
girl in front of him, whom he dropped into Nat- 
ah’-ki’s outstretched arms. He was terribly ex- 
cited, his dark eyes fairly shone, and he said 
over and over again, “The cowards! Oh, the 
cowards! But I killed two of them, yes, I got 
two. 
The girl was crying, wailing: 
$9. 
“My mother, 
I killed one of the enemy before I got on my 
horse, and another one a little later. And I’m 
glad I did, I just wish I could have killed them 
all. 
“Well, they followed us quite a long ways, 
perhaps two miles, but we managed to stop them 
finally, or perhaps they thought they had better 
not venture too near to our camp. One of 
them creased me, didn’t he? Well, he will not 
do any more shooting. I got him. He just 
tumbled off his horse on his head, and flopped 
over flat on the ground. The girl? They shot 
her horse, but before it fell I reached over and 
lifted her on to mine. After that I couldn’t 
handle my rifle, or I might have done better. 
I'll tell you what, old man, if ’twasn’t for those 

time to think, for he was generally sound asleep 
by eight or nine o’clock. 
Twice the camp was moved, each time a few 
miles further down the river. The berry season 
was about over, and the women began to talk of 
returning to Fort Benton, having gathered and 
dried all the fruit they needed. We had been 
out about six weeks, and I also was ready to 
return, as I was sure that Berry would be there 
awaiting us. We had a talk, a little council of 
our own one evening, and decided to move in 
the following day but one. Was it preordained 
that I should send Ashton out for a last hunt 
the morning before our departure? If I had not 
done so—but I did. You shall learn in time 
what was the result of it. He needn't have 
gone, we had plenty of meat. I sent him, and 
thereby changed the course of his whole life. 
Why, he might be living to-day had be re- 
mained in camp that morning. Looking back 
at it all, I don’t know whether to blame myself 
or not. 
Ashton and Weasel Tail rode away. The 
women began to pack up, getting out their par- 
fleches and filling them with their store of 
berries and dried meats. It was about noon, 
and I had just signed to Nat-ah’-ki I was hungry, 
REMAINS OF OLD FORT BENTON. 
From a photograph taken about 1882. 
my father,’ she kept repeating, “both dead, both 
killed.” : 
There was a great commotion in camp; men 
were saddling horses, calling wildly for their 
weapons, mounting and riding away out on to 
the plain in an ever-increasing stream. Ashton 
dismounted and I saw that his left trouser leg was 
soaked with blood. He limped into the lodge, 
and I followed and undressed him; there was 
a long, open bullet furrow just below the hip. 
“Tt was this way,” he told me, while I washed 
and bandaged the wound, “Weasel Tail and I 
overtook a party of hunters three or four miles 
out, and traveled on with them. Some had their 
women along, to help skin and bring in what 
they killed, I suppose. In a little while we 
sighted a fine herd of buffalo, approached them, 
and had a good run, the party killing something 
hké twenty of them. We were butchering the 
animals when something like fifty riders ap- 
peared from God knows where, and com- 
menced shooting at us. We were only seven or 
eight men, not strong enough to stand them off, 
but we partly held them in check, while the 
women got their horses, and we all lit out for 
home—that is, all but three, two men and a 
woman, who had been killed at the first fire. 
poor scalped corpses lying out there on the 
plain, I would say that it was great sport.” 
Never-Laughs Goes East. 
Owing to the ensuing stiffness and soreness 
of Ashton’s leg, we deferred for a few days our 
departure from the camp. A Piegan who had 
been wounded in the fight on the previous day 
died during the night. The attacking party 
proved to be Assinaboines, and in all they lost 
seven of their number, the pursuing party which 
left our camp overtaking and killing two who 
were riding slow horses. 
Nat-ah’-ki constituted herself protector and 
guardian of the orphan. The girl had two aunts, 
sisters of her dead mother, but they were 
married to a Blackfoot and were far away in the 
north. In the Piegan camp she had not a re- 
maining relative. She was a shy, quiet slip of 
a girl, about thirteen or fourteen years of age. 
Just now she was more than usually quiet, never 
speaking except to answer a question, silently 
crying most of the time. Nat-ah’-ki remodelled 
some of her own clothes for her. The Crow 
Woman gave her a shawl. When she appeared 
dressed in a neat calico dress, her hair nicely 
braided and bound with a deep red ribbon, even 
