"Well," said Mr. Jones, as he pushed away his plate, having satisfied his appetite, "I had started for the lake, hearing that there was a good many wild geese and other sorts of game there, and the prospect was, that we should make a pretty big thing of it; but the afternoon after we reached the pond, and was looking about a little, Davis and I were crossing a prairie, and had come in sight of a grove, and says I to him, 'You just go round on the other side of the thicket, and I'll go in on this, and if there's any deer in there, one of us'll start them out.' Well, I'd got within a few yards of the trees, when, the first I knew, I heard the crack of a rifle, and a bullet came singing through my side. Says I to myself, 'That's a red-skin's compliments!' and making believe that I was a gorner, I pitched forward and lay still as a door nail, in the tall grass. I hadn't lain there more 'n a minute, when, sure enough, a red-skin popped out from behind a tree close by, and made for me, to take my scalp. I had my revolver ready, and when he was within a few feet of me, I just let daylight through him; and as he fell, not knowing how many more of the scamps might be about, I dragged myself along to the side of the lake, where I found Davis waiting for me,--for he had seen the whole thing,--and creeping around to the other side under the banks, we made tracks for home. Why under the sun the feller didn't put the bullet through my heart, I can't make out, for I never knew one of 'em to miss, when he was so near as that, and had a fair aim." Mrs. Jones then knew why her heart was so burdened on his account at the very hour of his marvellous escape from death. But their conversation was interrupted by a settler who called to ask if they had seen anything of a stray pair of cattle. "Ah, neighbor Allen, is that you?" said Mr. Jones, going to speak to the caller, who sat upon his horse before the door. "Ah, Jones, when did you git back? and what luck?" rejoined the horseman in a hearty way. "Got a taste of venison," replied Mr. Jones, "and had a brush with the Injins." "Ah, ha! the red scamps want to smell powder again--do they? Well, I'm ready for them, for one, and I have seven boys not an inch shorter than I am, and as good with the rifle as the best, who would like a sight at the varmints. But if none of your folks have seen any stray cattle about the diggins, I must be going. Fact is, I reckon they've been driv off by some thievish villain." "What sort of cattle were yours?" inquired Mrs. Jones. "One was red, and the other was a brindle." "Was the red one very large, with very wide-spreading horns?" "That's the ticket," said the man. "I saw such a one last night, going down that way, by our cabin." "You did? Was Brindle follerin'?" "No," replied she, "but some men were driving him." "They were Indians!" cried Tom, excitedly.