come and lift him up. I was putting my arm behind him, when his right hand drew a long knife with a flash from his belt, and before I could spring back he had struck twice with all his force at my breast, wounding me severely. It was not his fault that he did not pierce me to the heart. So firm a grasp did his other hand retain of my collar that I could not escape him. I had my own hunting-knife beneath my buffalo robe, my fingers clutched it, and, as catching his right arm I pressed it to the ground, I struck two or three blows with all my might at his throat and chest; I felt his fingers relaxing; his arm fell back—he too was dead. I would rather not dwell on that awful moment. The horrors of my solitude were increased ten-fold. Still. I was obliged to rouse myself to action. I knew not how many of the tribe to which the dead men belonged might be in the neighbourhood.

That evening, however, I could do nothing. Night was coming on, and the blood which trickled down my breast reminded me that I must attend to my own wounds. If my former nights had been full of horrors, this was far more dreadful. The wolves howled louder than ever, and came round me in great numbers, and though I was continually firing my pistols out into the darkness, I could scarcely keep them at bay. I will not dwell on that dreadful time. The morning did come at last. The first thing I did was to drag the bodies of the savages down to the river, and to force them through a hole in the ice whence I had been accustomed to draw water. The current quickly carried them down into far-off regions. Then I made a fire over the spot where their blood had been spilt, and, happily, during the day a heavy fall of snow coming on obliterated all the remaining traces of their fatal visit to my tent. Still for many a day I could not drive the picture of their hideous countenances out of my head, as they lay stark and stiff on the ground, killed by my hand—yet never was homicide more justifiable. I had, as I believed, got rid of all the traces of the savages outside the tent. When I found the arrows sticking inside it in my bed, it did not occur to me that it would be equally necessary to get rid of them. The whim seized me of keeping them as a memorial of my escape. Instead, however, of concealing them under the bed, I arranged them in the form of a star on the tent covering just above my head, and every time I looked at them I felt grateful that they were not sticking in my body. I have a dislike to dwell on the horrible sensations which came over me during those long winter nights and scarcely less dreary days. Had I possessed any books they would have served me as companions, and helped me to pass the time; but I had none.

My own thoughts and feelings were my only associates, and they often were far from pleasant ones. I had a great temptation also, which, had I given way to it, would have made matters worse.

Among the articles which had fallen from the wagon, and which Obed and I afterwards picked up, was a small cask of brandy. We were both of us very abstemious, or we should not have been the strong, hearty fellows we were. The cask, therefore, had not even been broached. The tempter, however, now came suggesting to me that I might soon forget all my miseries if I would but occasionally take a taste of the fire-water. I resisted him, however. I knew that if I once began I might go on, and not know when to stop. I was sure that I was better and stronger without liquor of any sort, so I let the cask remain as it was in a corner of the tent. I had a pipe and a small quantity of tobacco, which I mixed with sumach leaves and willow bark to make it go further. Smoking this was my greatest animal pleasure. My usual dinner, eked out with fried wolf’s flesh, indeed required a smoke to make it digest properly. After this adventure with the Indians, I found my nerves much shaken. I stayed in bed for a couple of days, but whenever I dropped asleep I found myself acting the whole scene over and over again. At night I had, as usual, to sit up, wrapped in my buffalo robes, with my feet at the fire, and my pistols in my hands, keeping the wolves at bay. Oh, how I wished they would cease their horrid serenade. The old year passed away, and the new year began, but there was no change in my condition. I was growing seriously alarmed about Obed. He ought to have been back by this time, I thought. I was afraid some accident might have befallen him, for I was very certain that he would not have deserted me. By degrees I recovered my composure, and took my exercise with my rifle in my hand as usual. My tent also, by being almost covered up with snow, had become a very warm and comparatively comfortable habitation, as I could always keep up a good fire within it. When I returned from my walks I had a cup of warm tea ready, which tended to keep up the circulation which the exercise had established. Thus I soon got into very good health again.

My chief occupation when out was looking for game. What was my delight one morning to see a flight of prairie-hens sitting on some boughs not far from my tent. I stopped like a pointer. I knew that the slightest movement might scare them away; and lifting my rifle to my shoulder, I selected a fine cock. I fired, and over he tumbled. I ran forward, and securing him to my belt, I marked where the others settled, and followed them up. Thus I went on. I had killed three, I think, which would prove a most satisfactory addition to my larder. When I looked about me I found that I had got a long way from my tent. I walked briskly back. When I got to the top of the bank near the river, what was my dismay, on looking northward, to see several persons approaching my tent! They could not have failed to have discovered me. I watched them with intense interest. They were red-skins—Dacotahs probably; I could not possibly avoid encountering them. I felt that my only prospect of safety was to put a bold face on the matter, and go and meet them frankly.

Hurrying to my tent, I loaded myself with all my fire-arms, resolving to sell my life dearly, and then walked forward towards them. I counted the strangers. There were ten of them, all painted and dressed for war; and a very ferocious set they looked. They seemed very much astonished and puzzled at seeing me. In an instant they all had their arrows fixed in their bows, and, forming a line, they thus advanced slowly and cautiously, keeping an eye on the tent, and evidently expecting to see a number of people emerge from it. Their demonstrations were so hostile that I now began to repent that I had not made an attempt to defend myself; at the same time I felt that a contest with ten cunning savages would have been a very hopeless one. Flight, too, over the snow, with little knowledge of the country, was not to be thought of. As the savages advanced I retreated, resolving to make a stand at my tent door. At the same time I tried to show by signs that I could, if I liked, kill two or three of them, but that I was ready for peace if they were. At last I lowered my rifle from my shoulder, and they unstrung their bows and advanced with outstretched hands towards me. Knowing their treacherous character, however, of course I could not depend on them. I bethought me that the best way to win their friendship was to offer them food, as is practised in civilised communities with some success; so I showed them the birds I had just killed, and intimated that I was going to dress them for their entertainment. I produced several other dainties, and my dried wolf’s flesh. I also brought out some of my mixed tobacco, though it was with intense reluctance I parted with it. They expressed their satisfaction by several loud grunts, and then squatted round in a circle outside the door of my tent. I made up my fire, and soon had the prairie-hens and several pieces of meat roasting on sticks before it, and a savoury stew cooking in my pot. I trusted that I might be able to replenish my scanty stock of provisions, but I knew, that, had I not given them with a good grace, my guests would probably have taken them