Irritated by his answer, I blurted out: "As you are determined to stay here, Uncle Peter, we'll not leave you." But although, shortly after, the rest who were with him followed the old Dutchman's example, and after a smoke--the usual night-cap of the scout or trapper, spread out their blankets and prepared for rest, I was unable to do so. The unerring presentiment, which, without inspiring terror, tells us to be prepared for danger ahead, kept me on the watch. It was, therefore, at an early hour I aroused the camp. "I'll pet," exclaimed the Dutchman, wrathful at what he considered his untimely wakening, turning to Clapp, "dat Mose vas not sleep all night." "I tell you," was my sharp reply, "we had better get out of this place, cursed quickly!" All of them, the old man excepted, turned out. In spite of Clapp's remonstrances, he, however, re-rolling himself in his blanket, petulantly exclaimed: "Vell! I shleeps, some more." It was scarcely a quarter of an hour after this, when we were fired upon from the craggy rocks which commanded our position. This volley slaughtered two of our doomed band. With very pardonable anger, although I have since regretted this ebullition of temper, I administered a sharp kick to the form of Uncle Peter, who was rolling out of his blankets. "Get up, at once," I sung out. "I suppose you'll follow my advice, now." "Dey von't hurt old Pete," he responded, "so I vill get my plankets." Thoroughly out of patience with him, I leaped into my saddle, and it was none too soon. Another volley took down Clapp, who was just mounting. Thinking, at last, there might be some danger, the Dutchman made a spring for Clapp's horse. In consequence of the saddle not being properly girthed, it slid round with him, and he fell to the ground. Before he could spring to his feet, the concealed Indians had put two bullets through his body. Then, quitting their hiding-place, they rushed upon me. One ball from my rifle settled the foremost of them. With a vigorous thrust from my heels to the flanks of the horse I was mounted on, I shook out my bridle and fled, in the midst of a perfect shower of bullets and arrows. All but one of the last missed me. This inflicted a scalp-wound, and for a moment I reeled in my saddle. Turning immediately after, I once more raised my rifle, and had the satisfaction of wiping out one more Indian life, as a partial payment for the four they had taken. Fairly out of danger of pursuit, I groaned over the death of Peter Lassen and my three companions. No longer, my anger (the results had amply proved its justice) reproached him for the obstinate hardihood with which he had so untowardly ended our silver-hunting expedition.