s true, sir; as true as ye're standin' there.'"

"Well, would ye believe it, he turned--that natter-list did--as sick
as a dog on the spot wot he wos standin' on, an' didn't taste meat
again for three days!"

Shortly after the conclusion of Joe's story they reached the camp,
and here they found the women and children flying about in a state of
terror, and the few men who had been left in charge arming themselves
in the greatest haste.

"Hallo! something wrong here," cried Cameron, hastening forward,
followed by Joe. "What has happened, eh?"

"Injuns comin', monsieur; look dere," answered a trapper, pointing
down the valley.

"Arm and mount at once, and come to the front of the camp," cried
Cameron in a tone of voice that silenced every other, and turned
confusion into order.

The cause of all this outcry was a cloud of dust seen far down the
valley, which was raised by a band of mounted Indians who approached
the camp at full speed. Their numbers could not be made out, but they
were a sufficiently formidable band to cause much anxiety to
Cameron, whose men, at the time, were scattered to the various
trapping-grounds, and only ten chanced to be within call of the camp.
However, with these ten he determined to show a bold front to the
savages, whether they came as friends or foes. He therefore ordered
the women and children within the citadel formed of the goods and
packs of furs piled upon each other, which point of retreat was to
be defended to the last extremity. Then galloping to the front he
collected his men and swept down the valley at full speed. In a few
minutes they were near enough to observe that the enemy only numbered
four Indians, who were driving a band of about a hundred horses before
them, and so busy were they in keeping the troop together that Cameron
and his men were close upon them before they were observed.

It was too late to escape. Joe Blunt and Henri had already swept round
and cut off their retreat. In this extremity the Indians slipped from
the backs of their steeds and darted into the bushes, where they were
safe from pursuit, at least on horseback, while the trappers got
behind the horses and drove them towards the camp.

At this moment one of the horses sprang ahead of the others and made
for the mountain, with its mane and tail flying wildly in the breeze.

"Marrow-bones and buttons!" shouted one of the men, "there goes Dick
Varley's horse."

"So it am!" cried Henri, and dashe