o forget those I loved, and prepare myself for my
approaching fate.

"While I was thus engaged, the surgeon, Dr. Van Voorhees, came up. He
was badly wounded. His horse had been shot under him, and he had
received a ball in his leg. Every muscle of his face was quivering with
the agony of terror. He said to me, 'Do you think they will take our
lives? I am badly wounded, but I think not mortally. Perhaps we might
purchase our lives by promising them a large reward. Do you think there
is any chance?'

"'Dr. Van Voorhees,' said I, 'do not let us waste the few moments that
yet remain to us in such vain hopes. Our fate is inevitable. In a few
moments we must appear before the bar of God. Let us make what
preparation is yet in our power.'

"'Oh, I cannot die!' exclaimed he, 'I am not fit to die--if I had but a
short time to prepare--death is awful!'

"I pointed to Ensign Ronan, who, though mortally wounded and nearly
down, was still fighting with desperation on one knee.[35]

"'Look at that man!' said I. 'At least he dies like a soldier.'

"'Yes,' replied the unfortunate man, with a convulsive gasp, 'but he has
no terrors of the future--he is an unbeliever!'

"At this moment a young Indian raised his tomahawk at me. By springing
aside, I partially avoided the blow, which was intended for my skull,
but which alighted on my shoulder. I seized him around the neck, and
while exerting my utmost efforts to get possession of his
scalping-knife, which hung in a scabbard over his breast, I was dragged
from his grasp by another and older Indian.

"The latter bore me struggling and resisting towards the lake.
Notwithstanding the rapidity with which I was harried along, I
recognized, as I passed them, the lifeless remains of the unfortunate
surgeon. Some murderous tomahawk had stretched him upon the very spot
where I had last seen him.

"I was immediately plunged into the water and held there with a forcible
hand, notwithstanding my resistance. I soon perceived, however, that the
object of my captor was not to drown me, for he held me firmly in such a
position as to place my head above water. This reassured me, and,
regarding him attentively, I soon recognized, in spite of the paint with
which he was disguised, _The Black Partridge_.

"When the firing had nearly subsided, my preserver bore me from the
water and conducted me up the sand-banks. It was a burning August
morning, and walking through the sand in my drenched conditio