Gathering their spoil into a bundle, they sought their horses, which they had left tied under cover of the timber on the banks of the creek; and, mounting, took the back trail, to pick up their traps and remove from so dangerous a neighborhood. They were approaching the spot where the first trap was set, a thick growth of ash and quaking-ash concealing the stream, when Mark-head, who was riding ahead, observed the bushes agitated, as if some animal was making its way through them. He instantly stopped his horse, and his companion rode to his side, to inquire the cause of this abrupt halt. They were within a few yards of the belt of shrubs which skirted the stream; and before Markhead had time to reply, a dozen swarthy heads and shoulders suddenly protruded from the leafy screen, and as many rifle-barrels and arrows were pointing at their breasts. Before the trappers had time to turn their horses and fly, a cloud of smoke burst from the thicket almost in their faces. Batiste, pierced with several balls, fell dead, and Mark-head felt himself severely wounded. However, he struck the spurs into his horse; and as some halfscore Blackfeet jumped with loud cries from their cover, he discharged his rifle amongst them, and galloped off, a volley of balls and arrows whistling after him. He drew no bit until he reined up at the camp-fire, where he found Bill quietly dressing a deer-skin. That worthy looked up from his work; and seeing Markhead's face streaming with blood, and the very unequivocal evidence of an Indian rencontre in the shape of an arrow sticking in his back, he asked,--"Do'ee feel bad, now, boy? Whar away you see them darned Blackfoot?" "Well, pull this arrow out of my back, and maybe I'll feel like telling," answered Markhead. "Do'ee hyar, now? hold on till I've grained this cussed skin, will'ee? Did'ee ever see sich a darned pelt, now? it won't take the smoke anyhow I fix it." And Markhead was fain to wait the leisure of the imperturbable old trapper, before he was eased of his annoying companion.