blanket and havresack; I hastily unscrewed the
stopper, and contrived to force a few drops into
the mouth of the wounded man. Then, I tore
my cravat into strips, and with it and my
handkerchief tried to bind up the hurts Shem had
received, after vainly attempting to withdraw the
barbed arrows. Two of the injuries were mere
flesh wounds, more painful than dangerous;
but the third was of a serious character: the
shaft was imbedded in Shem's side, though the
hemorrhage was trifling in appearance when
compared with the abundant flow of blood from
the other injuries. In about a couple of minutes
Shem revived sufficiently to look up. I was
touched by the gratitude his eyes expressed.
Probably, poor lad, he had received but a scanty
share of kindness in his scrambling life.

"Do you suffer much pain from the arrow
wounds?'" I asked. "Take a drop more of the
whisky; it will give you strength, and if I can
once help you to proceed as far as the
blockhouse—"

"'Tain't no manner of use, stranger, my duty
to ye, all the same," replied the rider, after
swallowing a small quantity of spirits. "I've
got my finish at last. A chap that's fit in the
border fights ever since he could squint along a
gun, don't need no doctor to tell him when he's
got goss, he don't."

I could not disguise from myself that Shem
was right. His face showed a ghastly change;
it was ashen white, pinched, and thin; while
the lips twitched, and the eyes had acquired
that peculiar eager glance, and restless craving
brightness, which we never notice except in
those over whom death hovers. But I tried to
cheer the poor fellow; succeeded in stanching
the blood that flowed from his arm,
transpierced by two of the iron-tipped reeds; and
begged him to keep up his hope and courage.

"'Tain't worth wasting words upon, mister,"
gasped Shem; " I knowed I'd my call; onst I
felt the cold and the rankling pain that follered
the smart of that cussed arrow in my ribs. I'm
jest bleeding to death, inwardly, I am, and all
the surgeon chaps in the States couldn't help
me, no, nor yet the cleverest bonesetter in the
pararas. But you cheated the curs out of my
scalp, stranger. They had a hanker to get this
child's ha'r, they had, to dance round in their
darned village, them Shoshonies. My! How
the squaws will jeer and mock 'em when
they go back empty-fisted, and leavin' two of
the pack behind 'em, too!" And Shem, with
death in his face and at his heart, actually
laughed. He had to catch painfully at his
breath before he spoke again. "Stranger,
it's an ill wind blows nobody any good. You
hark to me. What I couldn't give you, nouther
for dollars nor axin', you'll get now. Go on to
the station; take this here mail-bag along; give
it 'em, and tell 'em the rights of what's chanced.
They'll turn out fast enough, I'll warrant, and
they'll put me under the turf afore the wolves
pick my bones. And another rider must go on
with the bag. And tell 'em 'twere my dyin'
wish, they'd give you a fresh hoss at each block,
and so let you go with the rider, and push
ahead. The Co. won't be riled at the breach of
rules—seein' you saved the bag, let alone my
scalp, and—"

He broke down here. I was quite melted at
the unselfish thoughtfulness of this poor dying
creature, this untaught, half-wild frontiers-man,
who could care for my speedy journey while his
own vital breath was trembling on his livid lips.
I gave him a third sup of whisky, begging him
to let me know if I could communicate his last
wishes to any distant friend or relation?

"There a gal that lives to Hampton Town,"
said Shem, almost in a whisper, "the darter of
a dealer that trades in mules, she be; and Ruth
and I—Oh, 'tis a pity the wedding day were
put off, cause the Co. gives pensions to wives,
but none to sweethearts, and Ruth's father met
with misfortins in trade, and she'd ha' been glad
of a few dollars a year, poor thing!"

I asked his sweetheart's name, for, as I
assured him, I felt certain that the house of
Spalding and Hausermann would befriend her for
his sake, if through the service I had rendered
Shem I were really enabled to do my errand with
a success otherwise unattainable.

"Ruth Moss," said Shem, in his weak voice;
"that's her surname and given name. She's a
good girl, pretty and good, is Ruth, and only
too tender a flower for a rough borderman like
me; goes to chapel reg'lar, and writes like a
print book."

He then begged that I would send to Ruth a
certain knot of ribbon which he had received
from her as a keepsake, or merely snatched in a
lover's whim, I do not know which; at any rate,
I found it carefully wrapped in deerskin, in the
bosom of his dress, but ah! with a deep dark
stain of blood marring the gay blue of the silk.
The arrow had passed nearly through that
humble love-token. Shem further prayed me,
that as I passed by the Round Pond Station,
between Port Bridge and Red Creek, I would
tell his old father, Amos Grindrod, that he,
Shem, had "died like a man."

"The old man'll be cut up, I'm afraid,"
murmured Shem, whose eyes were getting dim;
"but he'll be glad to know my ha'r warn't lifted.
Tell him I were wiped out by the band of Mad
Buffalo, the Shoshonie.''T'war Mad Buffalo
hisself that sent the arrow through me, just as
I kivered him with the carbine. The shunk!
Many a noggin of drink I've given him when he
come tradin' to the fort. But there war a grudge
atween him and me, and he's ped it; but let him
mind how he ever comes within range of old
Amos Grindrod's rifle!"

Shem was anxious to know whether the
Indian I had shot was quite dead, and what
painted device his half-naked body bore. His
own glazing eyes could not distinguish; but
when I described the yellow ochre barred with
white, he said it must be the "Little Owl,"
one of Mad Buffalo's best warriors. The other
Indian was of slighter make, and daubed with
black and vermilion. Both were stone dead.
Shem asked me, half timidly, if I would be