other preparations indicative of a general alarm.  It might be that their braves were entering on the war-path.  It might be that they were preparing for flight.  It was not improbable that, through their scouts, they had gained intimation of the approach of the trappers.  A council of war was held.  Promptly it was decided to send out forty-three men, under the leadership of Kit Carson to give the Blackfeet battle.  The remaining men, fifty-five in number, were left, under Mr. Fontenelle, to discharge the responsible duty of guarding the animals and the equipage.  They were also to move slowly on, as a reserve force, who could rush to the aid of the advanced force, or upon which those men could fall back in case of disaster.

They soon reached the village.  It was pretty evident that they were expected.  But the savages had only bows and arrows.  This gave the assailants an immense advantage.  They had both rifles and pistols.  Taking a circuitous route, they approached the village from an unexpected quarter.  They were scarcely seen before a discharge of their guns struck down ten of the bravest warriors.  But at that time it was an encampment rather than a village, occupied mainly by fighting men, who greatly outnumbered their assailants.  The Indians fought heroically.  Each man instantly sprang behind some tree where, protected, he could watch his opportunity and keep his foe at a distance.  When a rifle was once discharged, it took some time to reload; but the Indians could throw a dozen arrows in a minute, with sinewy arms, with sure aim and with deadly power.

The battle was mainly in the forest, neither party being willing to encounter the exposure of the open plain.  The Indians, behind the trees, watched their opportunity.  As there were several Indians to one white man, and the trappers were necessarily dispersed, seeking the protection of the trees, the Indians, as soon as a rifle was discharged, would dodge from tree to tree, ever drawing nearer to their assailants.  For three hours this battle continued.  The ammunition of the trappers was nearly exhausted, and they remitted the energy of their fire, awaiting the arrival of their companions.  The Indians comprehended the state of things and sagaciously resolved to make a simultaneous charge, before the trappers should have opportunity to replenish their powder-horns and bullet-pouches.

There was a distance of many rods between the two contending parties.  The ground was mainly level, and there was no underbrush to intercept the view.  The trappers saw and understood the movement for the charge.  Every man was prepared, with his loaded rifle and revolver.  On came the Indians, dodging, as they could, from tree to tree, but with an impetuosity of onset which excited the admiration of their opponents.  The forest resounded with their shrill war-whoop.  Carson requested every man to withhold his fire until sure of his aim.  “Let not a single shot,” said he, “be lost.”  It was a fearful moment, for upon that moment depended the life of every man in the party.  Should the outnumbering Indians succeed in passing the narrow intervening space, the trappers would inevitably be overpowered and from the spear-heads of the savages, forty-three scalps would be waved as the banners of their victory.