le gazing upon it, I heard the report of a musket. Nearly at the
same instant, a little blue-coloured cloud was ascending into the air.
It rose from behind the butte; and was easily recognisable as smoke
produced by the discharge of a gun. The savages had returned to their
cruel sport. Too clearly did I comprehend the signs of that fiendish
exhibition. After regarding the crucifix for awhile, I noted a
circumstance that enabled me to decide which of my comrades was
undergoing the terrible ordeal. To a certainty, Sure-shot was the
sufferer. The Red-Hand had fulfilled his threat; and my brave preserver
was now promoted to my place. The circumstance that guided me to this
knowledge was sufficiently definite. I could tell it was Sure-shot by
his height. I remembered that my own crown scarcely reached the top of
the upright post. That of him now enduring the torture rose above it--
by the head. Under the bright sunbeam, there was a sheen of yellow
hair. That of Wingrove would have appeared dark. Beyond doubt,
Sure-shot was the martyr now mounted upon that dread cross!

I viewed the spectacle with feelings not to be envied. My soul chafed
at the restraint, as it burned with bitter indignation against these
demons in human form. I should have rushed forward to stay the
sacrifice, or, if too late, to satisfy the vengeance it called forth;
but I was restrained by reflecting on the impotency of the act. The
prudent chief who commanded the Indians would not move, till the
smoke-signal should be given; and videttes had climbed far up on the
cliff, to watch for and announce it. It was not anticipated that we
should have long to wait. Our party had moved slowly down the defile;
and the time consumed in our advance was considerable--almost enough to
have enabled the others to get to their respective stations. This
thought--along with my experience of the ball-practice of the
Arapahoes--in some measure reconciled me to the delay. If he upon the
cross was still living, his chances of escape were scarcely
problematical. Another shot or two from such marksmen would be neither
here nor there. If the unfortunate man were already dead, then was the
delay of _less_ consequence: we should still be in time to avenge him.
But he was _not_ dead. The evidence that he was living was before my
eyes; though, in the confusion of the moment, I had no sooner perceived
it. Above the top of the post appeared the head held stiffly up