to
insure our safety. Moreover, had our camp fallen into the hands of those
terrible Indians, what a blood-blotted page would have been added to the
history of the Silver West!

It is but just and fair to Moncrieff, however, to say that he did all in
his power to stay the pursuit; but in vain. The soldiers were just
returning, tired and breathless, from a fruitless chase after the now
panic-stricken enemy, when a wild shout was heard, and our Gauchos were
seen riding up from the woods, brandishing the very spears they had
captured from the Indians, and each one leading a spare horse.

The _soldados_ welcomed them with a shout. Next minute each was mounted
and galloping across the pampas in one long extended line.

They were going to treat the Indians to a taste of their own tactics, for
between each horse a lasso rope was fastened.

All our men who were safe and unwounded now clambered into the waggon to
witness the pursuit. Nothing could exceed the mad grandeur of that
charge--nothing could withstand that wild rash. The Indians were mowed
down by the lasso lines, then all we could see was a dark commingled mass
of rearing horses, of waving swords and spears, and struggling, writhing
men.

Yells and screams died away at last, and no sound was now heard on the
pampas except the thunder of the horses' hoofs, as our people returned to
the camp, and occasionally the trumpet-like notes of the startled
flamingoes.

As soon as daylight began to appear in the east the ramparts were razed,
and soon after we were once more on the move, glad to leave the scene of
battle and carnage.

From higher ground, at some distance, I turned and looked back. Already
the air was darkened by flocks of pampas kites, among them many
slow-winged vultures, and I knew the awful feast that ever follows
slaughter had already commenced.

We had several Gauchos killed and one of our own countrymen, but many more
were wounded, some severely enough, so that our victory had cost us dear,
and yet we had reason to be thankful, and my only surprise to this day is
that we escaped utter annihilation.

It would be anything but fair to pass on to other scenes without
mentioning the part poor old Jenny played in the defence of the caravan.

Jenny was not demented--not she. Neither the fatigue of the journey, the
many wonders she had witnessed, including the shower of golochs, nor the
raid upon the camp had deprived Moncrieff's wonderful mither of her w