gn of my captors;
and equally clear was it that my breast was to be their mark. This
explained my position upon the summit of the mound, as well as my
attitude upon the cross. I was bound to the latter, in order that my
person might be held erect, spread, and conspicuous. I could not
comfort, myself with any doubt as to their intention. Every movement I
saw confirmed it; and the question was finally set at rest by Red-Hand
possessing himself of one of the loaded muskets, and making ready to
fire. Stepping a pace or two in front of the line of his warriors, he
raised the piece to his shoulder, and pointed it towards me. It is vain
to attempt describing the horror I endured at that moment. Utterly
unable to move, I gazed upon the glistening barrel, with its dark tube,
that threatened to send forth the leaden messenger of death. I have
stood before the pistol of the duellist. It is not a pleasant position
to be in, under any conditions of quarrel. Still it is perfect
happiness compared with that I then held. In the former case, there are
certain circumstances that favour the chances of safety. You know that
you are _en profile_ to your antagonist--thus lessening the danger of
being hit. Judging by yourself, you feel assured that the aim taken
will be quick and unsteady, and the shot a random one. You are
conscious of possessing the capability of motion--that whether you may
feel inclined to give way to it or not, you still have a certain
discretion of avoiding the deadly missile--that by superior skill or
quickness, you may anticipate your antagonist and hinder his bullet from
being sent. There are other circumstances of a moral nature to sustain
you in a trial of this kind--pride, angry passion, the fear of social
contempt; and, stronger than all--perhaps most frequent of all--the
jealousy of rival love. From none of all these could I derive support,
as I stood before the raised musket of the Arapaho. There was no
advantage--either moral or physical--in my favour. I was broad front to
the danger, without the slightest capacity of "dodging" it; whilst there
was nothing to excite the nerves of the marksman, or render his aim
unsteady. On the contrary, he was sighting me as coolly, as if about to
fire at a piece of painted plank.

It may have been but a minute, that the savage occupied himself in
adjusting his aim; but to me it appeared ten. In such a situation, I
may have believed the seconds to be minut