peering about with wild open eyes through blackened
faces. They held desperately to their weapons. An old bunch of buckskin
rags rose slowly and fired a carbine aimlessly. Twenty bullets rolled
and tumbled it along the ground, and again the smoke drifted off the
mount. This time the air grew clear. Buffalo-robes lay all about, blood
spotted everywhere. The dead bodies of thirty-two Cheyennes lay, writhed
and twisted, on the packed snow, and among them many women and children,
cut and furrowed with lead. In a corner was a pile of wounded squaws,
half covered with dirt swept over them by the storm of bullets. One
broken creature half raised herself from the bunch. A maddened trumpeter
threw up his gun to shoot, but Sergeant Johnson leaped and kicked his
gun out of his hands high into the air, saying, "This fight is over."

THE SPIRIT OF MAHONGUI

IT is so I have called this old document, which is an extract from the
memoirs of le Chevalier Bailloquet, a Frenchman living in Canada, where
he was engaged in the Indian fur trade, about the middle of the
seventeenth century, and as yet they are unpublished.

It is written in English, since the author lived his latter life in
England, having left Canada as the result of troubles with the
authorities.

He was captured by the Iroquois, and after living with them some time,
made his escape to the Dutch.

My Chevalier rambles somewhat, although I have been at pains to cut out
extraneous matter. It is also true that many will not believe him in
these days, for out of their puny volition they will analyze, and out of
their discontent they will scoff. But to those I say, Go to your
microbes, your statistics, your volts, and your bicycles, and leave me
the truth of other days.

[Illustration: 18 THIS WAS A FATAL EMBARQUATION]

The Chevalier was on a voyage from Quebec to Montreal; let him begin:

The next day we embarqued, though not without confusion, because many
weare not content, nor satisfied. What a pleasure ye two fathers to see
them trott up and downe ye rocks to gett their manage into ye boat. The
boats weare so loaded that many could not proceed if foul weather should
happen. I could not persuade myself to stay with this concourse as ye
weather was faire for my journie. Without adoe, I gott my six wild men
to paddle on ye way.

This was a fatal embarquation, butt I did not mistrust that ye Iriquoits
weare abroad in ye forest, for I had been at ye Peace. Nev