more likely to awe them if we remained in perfect
silence. Again and again, several times, those unearthly shrieks broke
the silence of the night. I own that they were terror-inspiring, and I
was very glad each time when they ceased. It was nearly dawn when once
more that hideous war-whoop was heard, and instantaneously the snow-clad
ground before us was covered with the dark forms of our foes, streaming
out from the forest and climbing up the height towards us. The Raggets,
Sam Short, Pipestick, and I took the lead in directing the defence, and
we were soon joined by old Waggum-winne-beg, who got up, in spite of his
wounds and weakness, to give us his assistance.

It was evident that our enemies had been reinforced, though it was still
too dark to count them with anything like accuracy. Indeed I don't,
exaggerate when I say that our sight was not a little disturbed by the
showers of arrows which they sent among us. In spite of their numbers,
we rather astonished them with the warm reception provided for their
entertainment. Old Short was in his element; calling some ten of the
Kioways round him, he was here and there and on every side of the camp
at the same moment, firing very rapidly and never throwing a shot away.
He must have killed a dozen of our enemies in as many minutes. In about
twenty minutes they seemed to have had enough of it, and rushed back
under shelter as rapidly as they had come out of it. The dawn appeared.
The rising sun spread a ruddy glow over the field of snow already
stained with the blood of the slain. We thought that our enemies would
retire, but no. Without a moment's warning, on they rushed once more up
the height. This time our rifles told with more certain effect than
even before; not a shot was thrown away, and the redskins fell thickly
around us on every side.

"What are they about now? They seem to have some scheme in reserve," I
observed to Obed. Scarcely had I spoken when some who had retired again
came forth, accompanied by a stout, sturdy-looking warrior, who,
however, did not seem very anxious to advance. He held a rifle in his
hand, which he fired every now and then as he advanced; but he was very
long in loading it, and each time his bullet whistled above our heads.
His companions were too intent on the attack to observe this. Just then
we were joined by old Sam Short. I pointed out the warrior to him.

"Why!" he exclaimed, "those fellows are Pawnees, the very