us livin'. Twenty charges left, and no more, as
I'm a sinner. I don't care over-much for
myself. The Injuns will find my old bones tough
pickin'. But the women—well! 'twill be soon
over. Look here, sir, I'm that anxious about
my little Laff—the child—I can't but ax a
favour. Will ye take him with you? I know
he'll hamper you some, but he's brave for a
little chap of six.; he'll hold fast and never cry.
His weight's triflin'; but if you hev to fight, I
don't disguise as Laff will hamper you. Still, do
save him, and the very last word old Simon
Davis says shall be, God bless and reward you,
stranger!'

"There were tears in the father's bold eyes,
and his voice shook in a manner very foreign to
its usual manly tone. But the brave fellow was
quite unselfish in his fears, which were wholly
for the child. He had forgotten himself. I
wrung his muscular hand.

"'Trust the boy to me,' said I; 'that is, if
you really think it best.'

"'Harkye,' he continued, ' nothing for
nothing. Snowball's your own from this minit.
You've always consaited hevin' that hoss, and,
win or lose, you shall keep him in remembrance
of Simon Davis.'

"It was no easy matter to coax little Laff
Davis into a quiet consent to the flight. The
little fellow was my very good friend; but he
had got an inkling of what was afoot, and he
clung sobbing to his giant father's neck,
declaring that he would not go unless 'daddy
went too.' It was a painful parting. The
tears ran down the farmer's sun-browned cheeks,
but he dashed them away with the back of his
rough hand, and lifted the boy on to the saddle-
bow, bidding him hold tight, and be good, and
do as Mr. King told him.

"Nutkins was already in the saddle,
surrounded by anxious wild-eyed women, holding
up their children and beseeching him to take
some little Ellen or Gertrude along with him to
the fort and safety. But the jockey was deaf
to their cries, not from hardness of heart, but
sheer conviction that such a burden must lead
to capture and destruction. He was past
middle age, and quite weak, though a superb
horseman, and altogether unfit to carry a restless
screaming child through so terrible a ride
as lay before us. As for myself, I took off my
cravat and tied little Lafayette fast to my belt,
looked to my knife and pistol (the rifle I had
abandoned), and asked Nutkins if he were
ready.

"'Ready, mister!'

"Out we went, with a rush, from between the
sheltering waggons, which had as yet screened
our proceedings from the wild besiegers. The
Indians were gathered around their fires, about
half a mile off, their horses tethered and grazing,
every horse with the hide saddle on
his back, and a lance stuck in the turf beside
him. We got out unseen, and headed for Fort
Boisé.

"'Steady, mister,' said Nutkins, who was
pale but collected; 'spare the hosses all we
can. The niggers don't see us. We've got a
goodish start, so let's canter quiet.'

"On we went at an easy hand-gallop, and
perhaps we might have got off unperceived, had
not some of those left behind given way to
their feelings in a most luckless cheer of
encouragement.

"'Cuss the noise; they'll be after us, now,'
said the jockey, peering over his shoulder; and
the words were hardly uttered before a yell,
loud and fierce enough for the throats of a drove
of wolves, was heard, and we saw the Indians
leaping on horseback and dashing madly in
pursuit of us. Fifty wild riders were in
our rear. The fort was far ahead. It was
a terrible race for life and death that ensued.
Nutkins proved a valuable companion. His
experience suggested what I should never have
thought of.

"'Keep a tight rein,' he cried; 'hold your
beast together, Britisher. Beat 'em by jockeyship.
Do, Mr. King, keep a turn of speed in
your hoss, and we'll beat them rowdies yet, for
see how they flog and jag the reins, and a'most
leap off in their hurry. The blood-thirsty muffs!
They'll blow their beasts afore they go a brace
of miles.'

"Instinctively I felt that the man was right.
Still, it was an awful sensation to feel that the
Indians were gaining on us, to look back and
see their excited gestures, as they shook their
spears and rattled their shields, while every now
and then they beat their open hands upon their
mouths as they uttered the hideous war-whoop.
At last they got within a hundred yards, and an
arrow whistled past us.

''Slip ahead, mister! No hurry, but hustle
on quicker!" cried Nutkins, and we heard the
yells of the disappointed savages as we forged
ahead. We got clean out of sight of our
pursuers, and saw nothing of them for a long time.
Nutkins was triumphant, but I entertained
strong doubts as to the chase being really over.
And, indeed, more than an hour later, as we
forded a creek, we heard the whoop of our
barbarous foes, and twenty arrows were discharged
at us, while the hoof-strokes resounded thick and
fast on the turf of the prairie. We were in no
light danger for the next half hour. The savages
pressed us hard. Nutkins was slightly hurt by
two shafts, a third arrow struck into the fleshy
part of my right arm, causing a slight throb of
pain but doing no severe injury, while another
grazed Lafayette's cheek, just drawing blood.
The gallant little fellow behaved very well. He
never sobbed or screamed, but held fast to my
belt with his small hands, and scarcely winced
when the arrow touched him. We had hard
work, swimming two rivers before we were free
from our savage foes, but at last we saw them
rein up, and heard their farewell yell of vexation.

"We had yet a rough and long ride to the fort;
we had missed the direct route, and had to shape
our course by bearings; but at last, after twenty
hours in the saddle, we came in sight of the
moss-covered stockade and shingled roofs of