leave us not long in doubt. The horses are
unharnessed and led aside. Half-a-dozen savages are seen crouching
under the axles, and laying hold of the spokes. As many more stand
behind--screened from our sight by the tilt-cloth, the body, and boxing.
The pole projects in the direction of the mound!

Their object is now too painfully apparent. Without thinking of the
analogy of the Trojan horse, we see that this monster of a modern Troy
is about to be employed for a similar purpose. Yes--shielded by the
thick planking of its bed--by its head and hind boards--by its canvas
covering, and other cloths which they have cunningly spread along its
sides, the savages may approach the mound in perfect safety. Such is
their design. With dismay, we perceive it. We can do nought either to
retard or hinder its execution. Those under the vehicle can "spoke" the
wheels forward, without in the least exposing their bodies to our aim.
Even their hands and arms are not visible: buffalo-robes and blankets
hang over, draping the wheels from our view. Those behind are equally
well screened; and can propel the huge machine, without risk of danger.
We note all these circumstances with feelings of keen apprehension. We
adopt no means to hinder the movement: we can think of none, since none
is possible. We are paralysed by a sense of our utter helplessness.

We are allowed but little time to reflect upon it. Amidst the shouts of
the savages, we hear the creaking of the wheels; we behold the mass in
motion! Onward it comes toward the mound--advancing with apparently
spontaneous motion, as if it were some living monster--some horrid
mammoth--approaching to destroy and devour us!

Had it been such a monster, its proximity could scarce have inspired us
with a greater dread. We felt that our destruction was equally certain.
The savages would now surround us--advance up the rocks--spring upon us
from all sides at once; and, although we might fight to the death--which
we had determined to do--still must we die. The knowledge that we
should die fighting, and with arms in our hands--that we should fall
upon the corpses of our enemies, avenging death before parting with
life--this knowledge was but a feeble ray to support and cheer us.
Though no cowards--not one of us--we could not look forward to our fate,
without a feeling of dread. The certainty of that fate we could no
longer question. Even the time seemed to be fixed. In a few minut