The dawn was approaching; it was the time the Red-skins often make their attacks, as they expect to find their enemies buried in sleep.
When morning at last came, and no enemy had appeared, we began to hope that no Blackfeet had as yet reached the neighbourhood.
Another day was drawing on. Except a few men who remained on guard, the rest of the garrison lay down to sleep, that they might be more watchful the following night.
I spent a short time with my mother and sisters and Rose, and did my best to encourage them, but I could not help feeling that possibly it might be the last time we should be together on earth. By Red Squirrel’s report, the Blackfeet were very numerous, and they are noted for being the most savage and warlike of all the northern tribes.
The next night was almost a repetition of the former, except that Alec and I kept watch, while Hugh lay down to sleep. Uncle Donald, as before, went his rounds, and there seemed but little risk of our being taken by surprise. He had just left us, when Hugh, who had got up and was standing near me, whispered—
“I see something moving over the snow. There! there are others. Yes, they must be Indians.”
“Wait until we are certain,” I answered, in the same low voice; “and then, Alec, run round and tell Uncle Donald.”
We were not left long in doubt before we all three were certain that the objects we saw were Indians, and that they were trying to keep themselves concealed.
Alec set off to find Uncle Donald. He had not been gone many seconds, when fearful yells rent the air. Before us up started hundreds of dark forms, and a shower of bullets and arrows came flying above our heads.