I never slept more soundly in my life; and when I was awakened by Tim pulling at my arm, I found that the day had already broke.
“Hist, Masther Barry,” he whispered. “The praste’s black fellow Candela, says there are Injyuns lurking about, who maybe want to steal our mules, or cut our throats if they have the chance; and we’ve sent the boys to bring in the animals; and Misther Denis and Candela have gone forward to get a look down the gorge, where we think they have hidden, intending to take us by surprise.”
I should have said that on the other side of the gorge was a ridge, beyond which the ground again sloped, thus enabling a party to approach within gun-shot of where we were encamped.
On jumping to my feet I saw my uncle and Candela creeping along towards a fallen trunk, which lay close above the brink of a precipice. At that instant an Indian sprang up, bow in hand, from the other side of the trunk, and shot an arrow, which quivered in the ground close by my uncle’s side. He rushed forward, on seeing this, and before the Indian could fix another arrow had felled him to the earth with his sword. The next moment a large party of Indians appeared on the top of the ridge, and a shower of arrows fell close to us: happily, none took effect, and I saw my uncle drop so as to conceal himself behind a log, while he levelled his rifle over it at the Indians. As he saw the Indians about to shoot, Tim pulled me behind the nearest tree, and probably saved me and himself from being wounded by the arrows,—which, as it was, whistled close to our ears. Before the Indians could move forward, my uncle fired, and a tall warrior, who seemed to be their chief, fell wounded to the ground. This evidently disconcerted them.
“Now is our time,” cried my uncle. “Barry—Tim—call the mule-boys and follow me;” and leaping over the log, he dashed down the ravine, sword in hand, and rapidly climbed the opposite side.
We obeyed his orders, and the Indians, seized with a sudden panic on seeing us coming, and probably believing others were to follow, took to their heels, leaving their chief bleeding on the ground. We fired,—as did my uncle, who had reloaded his gun,—to expedite their movements, and two more fell dead, the rest continuing their flight.
“Though he is an enemy, we must not let this fellow bleed to death,” said my uncle, stooping down. “Come, Barry, we’ll bind up his wound and carry him along with us; perhaps he may be able to give us some important information, and at all events we shall learn why he attacked us.”
My uncle soon stopped the flow of blood from the Indian’s side; and the muleteers having brought the animals round by crossing the valley a little way above where we stood, we placed our captive on one of them. We then, guided by Candela, hurried forward on our journey, keeping a sharp look-out lest the fugitive Indians should return.