cks, making a
fairly good road. On both sides of us rose mighty hills, densely covered
with timber, and seared with granite crags. Of a sudden, from a point
slightly ahead on the left, rang the dull report of a musket.

"I'm shot!" cried Tom Arnold, clapping a hand to his arm.

CHAPTER XXXV.

RETRIBUTION.

Our first thought was that we had blundered into an ambuscade and that
the bluffs to right and left of us swarmed with redskins. Our little
column stopped short, confused and panic-stricken, and for a brief
instant we stood huddled in the narrow valley like sheep. Our muskets
were lifted, but no foes were insight; we expected a withering fusillade
to be poured into our ranks.

"They've got us, boys!" cried Tom Arnold, who was staring in all
directions while he held his wounded arm.

But the silence remained unbroken--and I began to hope that our alarm
was groundless--at least, so far as an ambuscade was concerned. Just
where the shot had been fired from I could not tell, for the wind had
quickly drifted the smoke away; but as I watched alertly I detected a
slight movement in the evergreen-clad face of the hill on the left, at a
point some distance ahead, and about twenty feet from the ground.

"There is only one redskin," was my instant reflection, "and he is
loading for another shot."

My gun was at mid-shoulder, and I did not hesitate a second. Taking
swift aim at the spot, I pulled the trigger. The loud report was
followed by a screech; then the bushes parted, and an Indian pitched out
headforemost, landing with a thud in the soft snow.

"Good shot!" cried Arnold. "One red devil the less! But what can the
others be about?"

"It's doubtful if there are any more," said I.

"By Heavens, Carew I believe you are right!" shouted Captain Rudstone.
"We've had a scare for nothing. This follow was certainly alone, or his
comrades would have blazed away at us before this. I fancied I saw him
stir just now--if he's not dead, we may get some information out of
him."

With that the captain started toward the fallen Indian, keeping his
musket ready and darting keen glances right and left. I would have
followed him, but at sight of Arnold's pale face I changed my mind. His
left arm was bleeding profusely below the shoulder, and three or four of
his men were standing about him.

"Is the bone hit?" I inquired anxiously.

"No; it's only a flesh wound