the neighborhood.  With heedless daring, Vanderburgh put himself upon their trail, to trace them to their place of concealment:  It led him over prairies, and through skirts of woodland, until it entered a dark and dangerous ravine.  Vanderburgh pushed in, without hesitation, followed by his little band.  They soon found themselves in a gloomy dell, between steep banks overhung with trees, where the profound silence was only broken by the tramp of their own horses.

Suddenly the horrid war-whoop burst on their ears, mingled with the sharp report of rifles, and a legion of savages sprang from their concealments, yelling, and shaking their buffalo robes to frighten the horses.  Vanderburgh’s horse fell, mortally wounded by the first discharge.  In his fall he pinned his rider to the ground, who called in vain upon his men to assist in extricating him.  One was shot down scalped a few paces distant; most of the others were severely wounded, and sought their safety in flight.  The savages approached to dispatch the unfortunate leader, as he lay struggling beneath his horse..  He had still his rifle in his hand and his pistols in his belt.  The first savage that advanced received the contents of the rifle in his breast, and fell dead upon the spot; but before Vanderburgh could draw a pistol, a blow from a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and he was dispatched by repeated wounds.

Such was the fate of Major Henry Vanderburgh, one of the best and worthiest leaders of the American Fur Company, who by his manly bearing and dauntless courage is said to have made himself universally popular among the bold-hearted rovers of the wilderness.

Those of the little band who escaped fled in consternation to the camp, and spread direful reports of the force and ferocity of the enemy.  The party, being without a head, were in complete confusion and dismay, and made a precipitate retreat, without attempting to recover the remains of their butchered leader.  They made no halt until they reached the encampment of the Pends Oreilles, or Hanging-ears, where they offered a reward for the recovery of the body, but without success; it never could be found.

In the meantime Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the Rocky Mountain Company, fared but little better than their rivals.  In their eagerness to mislead them they betrayed themselves into danger, and got into a region infested with the Blackfeet.  They soon found that foes were on the watch for them; but they were experienced in Indian warfare, and not to be surprised at night, nor drawn into an ambush in the daytime.  As the evening advanced, the horses were all brought in and picketed, and a guard was stationed round the camp.  At the earliest streak of day one of the leaders would mount his horse, and gallop off full speed for about half a mile; then look round for Indian trails, to ascertain whether there had been any lurkers round the camp; returning slowly, he would reconnoitre every ravine and thicket where there might be an ambush.  This done, he would gallop off in an opposite direction and repeat the same scrutiny.  Finding all things safe, the horses would be turned loose to graze, but always under the eye of a guard.