My three years of constant life of this kind had made me somewhat familiar with it, but to my brother, fresh from the quiet and security of Ontario, this whole life was a revelation. Nevertheless by heredity and instinct alike he took to it like a native. When Sunday came we had been two days and a half among the herds and were pretty well loaded, and also pretty well tired, so that the Sabbath rest was exceedingly welcome. Breakfast and a short service, and all who could and were not on duty slept. In the afternoon strange Indians were sighted by our watchful guards, and my man Mark threw his lariat over the neck of "Ki-you-kenos"--the big American horse that ran away with Peter in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE"--and before anyone could stop him was away on the jump to reconnoitre more closely. In the meantime from our camp we could see these strangers gathering on the summit of a distant hill, and knew from their numbers and equipment that they were a war party. Mark, with only his lariat for a bridle, was going nearer to them at every jump. Those of us who knew the horse felt that there would be no stopping or turning him until he reached those men; and our hearts were in our mouths, so to speak, as we watched Mark's progress and realized his peril. We caught up our best horses, and saddling them as quickly as possible started after him. I well remember how I felt as with my horse bounding under me I made for that hill. Momentarily I expected to see the smoke of a flint-lock, and keenly I watched Mark as he sat on his flying steed, for pull up as he might I knew he could not stop him. In a few moments he was in the midst of the party, but to our great relief was given a friendly greeting instead of the fusilade we had feared. Presently he started to come back, and we pulled up our horses and waited to hear from him who these were. When we met Mark told us that the strangers were plain Crees on the war-path, going into the Blackfoot country, and though unacquainted with us still they were the allies of our people. Mark said they were coming down to visit us, so we returned to our camp. The war party came along in the course of an hour or so, and concluded to camp with us for the night, though I am sure no one in our party gave them a pressing invitation to do this. To be under the necessity of watching within as well as without your own camp becomes rather tiresome. We put on double guards that night, and were relieved when our friends started away bright and early Monday morning, allowing us to go on with our hunt.