lose all presence of mind, although the blows fell heavy and fast. I endeavored with all my might to hold my breath, in order to make him think I was dead, but it was impossible: I was so nearly smothered with my face beaten into the grass, that I caught my breath several times. He probably supposed me to be dying, and threw down his gun. I thought he was preparing to scalp me: I expected every moment to feel his hand in my hair, and the keen edge of the scalping-knife, cutting around my head. But, for once, I was happily disappointed, for he went away, and left me, thinking, no doubt, I was dead. And, in fact, I _was_ so dead to every feeling but fear, that I believe he could have taken my scalp, without my moving a muscle. I lay here for some two or three hours, not daring to stir. While I was lying here, I heard Merton calling me, and now knew that he still lived, and wondered how he had escaped the red-skins, but supposed he had concealed himself in the grass. I dared not answer him, for fear he would come to me, be discovered by the Indians, and be killed. The rain had continued falling all of this time; my clothes were wet through, and I was very cold and chilly. At about four o’clock p. m., on trying to get up, I found that I was very weak, and that it required a great deal of painful effort to raise myself to a sitting posture. As I had been lying, my hand was under my forehead: I now found that the blood had run down from my head and coagulated among my fingers; hence I knew that my head had bled quite freely, or the rain would have washed it away. Upon this, I tried to ascertain how much my head was injured by the blows. I was insensible to pain in that quarter, but by turning my head back and forth, I could plainly hear and feel the bones grate together. I thought my skull must be broken, and this afterwards proved to be true. My hair was very thick and long, measuring about three feet, and this, I think, saved my life, by breaking the force of the blows. Here I sat, wet and cold, not daring to move from the spot. I had heard the cry of a child at intervals, during the afternoon, and thought it was Johnny. I thought Merton must have taken him to the wounded men, to stay with them. So I determined to try and go to them, thinking we could, perhaps, keep warm better, for the rain still fell very fast, and the night was setting in, cold and stormy. I rose upon my feet, and found that I could walk, but with great difficulty. I heard Willie Duly, whom I supposed dead long before this, cry out, “Mother! mother!!” but a few steps from me, and then he called, “Mrs. Smith! Mrs. Smith!!” Having to pass close by him, as I left the slough, I stopped and thought I would speak to him; but, on reflecting that I could not possibly help the poor boy, I passed him without speaking. He never moved again from the spot where I last saw him; for when the soldiers went there to bury the dead, they found him in the same