Attacked by Bandits—A Sad Death and a Sudden Rescue.  
It was well that we had been warned not to go beyond the camp, for there happened at that time to be abroad on the prairies a band of miscreants who would certainly have shot whoever they had caught straying. The band was composed of white men—that class of white men who, throwing off all moral and social restraints, give themselves up to the practice of every species of iniquity, fearing neither God nor man. They were, in short, a band of robbers and cut-throats, whose special business at that time was hunting buffalo, but who were not averse to sell their services to any nation that chanced to be at war, or to practice simple robbery when opportunity offered.
 
These men held the opinion that Indians were “vermin,” to exterminate which was commendable. When, therefore, they discovered our camp by the light of the fires, they rode towards it with the utmost caution, taking advantage of every bush and knoll until our sentinels observed them. Then they rushed upon us like a hurricane, sending a volley of bullets before them.
 
Several of our men fell, mortally wounded. Our sentinels ran in, and a wild attempt at defence was made; but it was in vain, we had been taken completely by surprise, and, as the only chance of safety, our party scattered in all directions, each man making for the nearest woods.
 
Only Big Otter, Salamander, and I remained beside the camp-fires, resolved to defend our helpless females or die with them. This brought about a most unexpected turn of affairs, for the villains were so eager to hunt and kill the flying Indians, that every man went in hot pursuit of a fugitive, leaving us for the moment absolutely alone!
 
We were not slow in taking advantage of this. Although at the onset some of our terrified horses broke their fastenings and galloped away, others remained quiet. Among these last I observed, were my own horse and that of Salamander, which I have already said were splendid animals.
 
Scarcely believing our good fortune, we all bounded towards these. In a moment I had mounted. Eve seized my hand, put her foot on my toe, and, with a light spring, seated herself behind me. Big Otter, vaulting on Salamander’s steed, swung Eve’s mother up behind him.
 
“Catch another horse—there are plenty good enough for a light weight like you, Salamander,” said I, as I put my horse to its utmost speed.
 
Salamander was not slow to obey, but had scarcely mounted when a loud halloo told that our action had been observed. I did not look back. One consuming idea filled my mind, and that was to save Eve Liston. That the miscreants who now thundered after us would show us no mercy I felt well assured, and plied the heavy thong I carried with all my might. The noble steed did not require that. It strained every muscle to the uttermost.
 
I felt cheered to observe that Big Otter kept well up with me, and could hear that Salamander was not far behind.
 
We now felt that our only hope, under God, lay in the superiority of our horses, and for some time we listened to the pattering of the hoofs behind us with intense anxiety. Soon I began to fancy that we were distancing them, and ere long we became sure of this, at least as to the most of our pursuers, but there was one who kept drawing closer and closer.
 
Presently a shot was fired and a bullet whizzed close past my head.
 
At that moment Big Otter reined up so violently as to throw his horse almost on its haunches. I checked my speed but did not rein up. Looking back, I saw my Indian friend wheel round, raise his gun to his shoulder and fire. The moon was bright, and I could see that the man who had been closing with us dropped to the ground. Whether he was killed or only wounded we did not wait to ascertain, but dashed on again as fast as ever. We soon drew rein, however, on observing that the fall of our pursuer had checked his companions. On reaching him they halted, dismounted, and finally gave up the chase. We soon left them out of sight behind us, but still we held on at a hand-gallop, resolved to put as much distance as possible between us before encamping.
 
During all this exciting chase Waboose’s mother had clung to her stalwart support with the uncomplaining patience of Indian women; but we were deeply concerned to find on halting that she was too much exhausted to dismount and that blood was trickling from her lips. Indeed, she would have fallen to the ground if Big Otter had not caught her in his arms.
 
“Are you wounded, mother?” exclaimed Eve, going down on her knees, seizing one of the poor woman’s hands and kissing it tenderly.
 
“No, Waboose, but I think there is something wrong here.” She pressed her breast gently and coughed up some blood.
 
“She is quite worn out,” said I. “Come, Big Otter, let us carry her to a more comfortable place, and make a fire. A cup of tea will soon revive her.”
 
I spoke cheerily, with a view to comfort Eve, but I confess that great anxiety filled me when I looked at the poor woman’s wan face and emaciated frame. The blood, too, appeared to me a fatal symptom, though I had but a hazy idea of everything relating to disease.
 
The place we had selected for our encampment was a dense mass of forest which covered the prairie in that part to an extent of about two square miles. Near the outer margin of this patch there was a curious steep mound which rose so high that from the top of it one could see over the surrounding trees. It rose somewhat in the form of a cone with a flat space at the apex of not more than twenty feet in diameter. On the outer rim of this apex was a fringe of rocks and low bushes. It was, in fact, a natural fortress, which seemed so suitable for us in our circumstances that we at once set about making our camp on the top of it. We took care, however, to kindle our fire in the lowest-lying and densest thicket we could find at the foot of the mound. We also made the fire as small and free from smoke as possible, for fear of attracting any one to the spot.
 
While I was busy down in the dell preparing the tea, Salamander having been left to take care of the camp on the mound, Big Otter came to me. I was alarmed by the solemn expression of his face.
 
“Nothing wrong, I hope?” said I, anxiously.
 
“The wife of Weeum the Good is dying,” said the Indian, mournfully.
 
“Oh! say not so,” I exclaimed, “how dreadful to poor Waboose if this were to happen just now! You must be mistaken.”
 
“Big Otter may be mistaken. He is not a medicine-man, but he saw a young girl of his tribe with the same look and the same flow of blood from the mouth, and she died.”
 
“God forbid!” I exclaimed, as I took up the kettle in which the tea was being made. “See, it is ready, I will take it to her. It may at least revive her.”
 
I hurried to the top of the mound, where poor Eve sat by the couch of brush we had spread, holding her mother’s hand and gazing into her face with painful anxiety. She looked up hastily as I approached, and held up a finger.
 
“Does she sleep?” I asked, in a low voice, as I seated myself beside the couch and set down the kettle.
 
“Yes—I think so—but—”
 
She stopped, for at the moment her mother opened her eyes, and looked wistfully round.
 
“Weeum!” she murmured, in a faint voice. “I thought I heard him speak.”
 
“No, dear mother,” said Eve, beginning to weep silently. “Your spirit was in the land of dreams.”
 
“See,” said I, pouring some hot tea into a cup and stirring it. “I have brought you some of the pale-faces’ sweet-water. I always carry a little of it about with me when I go hunting, and had some in my wallet when we started on this wild race. Was it not fortunate? Come, take a little, it will strengthen you, mother.”
 
It was the first time I had called her mother, and I did so from a feeling of tenderness, for she seemed to me at the time certainly to be dying; but she misunderstood my meaning, for she looked at me with pleased surprise, and then laughed very softly as she glanced at Eve. I perceived, however, from the innocent look of inquiry returned by the latter, that she did not understand her.
 
After taking some of the tea, the poor woman revived, and I whispered to her daughter,— “Don’t you think it might please her to see the little picture?”
 
“Perhaps. I am not sure. Yes, give it to me. I will show it, but say nothing about my father’s writing or wishes. I have not yet been able to speak to her.”
 
To our disappointment she could make nothing of the portrait. Perhaps the moonlight was insufficient, though very bright, but it is more probable that her sight was even then failing.
 
“What is that?” said Eve, with a startled look, pointing at something behind me.
 
I turned sharply round, and beheld a column of bright flame shooting high up into the night-air. An exclamation of bitter chagrin escaped me, for I knew well what it was. After I had got the fire kindled down in the thicket on our arrival, I had noticed that I had laid it close to the roots of a dead fir-tree, the branches of which were covered to the top with a species of dried moss. At the time I knew that there was danger in this, but as our fire was to be very small, and to be extinguished the moment we were done with it, I had allowed it to remain rather than be at the trou............