“When the natter-list came back ye should ha’ seen the joyful face he put on when he smelt the grub, for he was all but starved out, poor critter.”

“‘What have we got here?’ cried he, rubbin’ his hands an’ sittin’ down.”

“‘Steaks an’ marrow-bones,’ says Martin.”

“‘Capital!’ says he.  ‘I’m so hungry.’”

“So he fell to work like a wolf.  I niver seed a man pitch into anything like as that natter-list did into that horseflesh.”

“‘These are first-rate marrow-bones,’ says he, squintin’ with one eye down the shin-bone o’ the hind leg to see if it was quite empty.”

“‘Yes, sir, they is,’ answered Martin, as grave as a judge.”

“‘Take another, sir,’ says I.”

“‘No, thankee,’ says he with a sigh, for he didn’t like to leave off.”

“Well, we lived for a week on horseflesh, an’ first-rate livin’ it wos; then we fell in with buffalo, an’ niver ran short again till we got to the settlements, when he paid us our money an’ shook hands, sayin’ we’d had a nice trip, an’ he wished us well.  Jist as we wos partin’ I said, says I, ’D’ye know what it wos we lived on for a week arter we wos well-nigh starved in the prairies?’”

“‘What,’ says he, ‘when we got yon capital marrowbones?’”

“‘The same,’ says I.  ‘Yon wos horse flesh,’ says I; ‘an’ I think ye’ll surely niver say again that it isn’t first-rate livin’.’”

“‘Ye’re jokin’,’ says he, turnin’ pale.”

“‘It’s true, sir; as true as ye’re standin’ there.’”

“Well, would ye believe it, he turned—­that natter-list did—­as sick as a dog on the spot wot he wos standin’ on, an’ didn’t taste meat again for three days!”

Shortly after the conclusion of Joe’s story they reached the camp, and here they found the women and children flying about in a state of terror, and the few men who had been left in charge arming themselves in the greatest haste.

“Hallo! something wrong here,” cried Cameron, hastening forward, followed by Joe.  “What has happened, eh?”

“Injuns comin’, monsieur; look dere,” answered a trapper, pointing down the valley.

“Arm and mount at once, and come to the front of the camp,” cried Cameron in a tone of voice that silenced every other, and turned confusion into order.

The cause of all this outcry was a cloud of dust seen far down the valley, which was raised by a band of mounted Indians who approached the camp at full speed.  Their numbers could not be made out, but they were a sufficiently formidable band to cause much anxiety to Cameron, whose men, at the time, were scattered to the various trapping-grounds, and only ten chanced to be within call of the camp.  However, with these ten he determined to show a bold front to the savages, whether they came as friends or foes.  He therefore ordered the women and children within the citadel formed of the goods and packs of furs piled upon each other, which point of retreat was to be defended to the last extremity.  Then galloping to the front he collected his men and swept down the valley at full speed.  In a few minutes they were near enough to observe that the enemy only numbered four Indians, who were driving a band of about a hundred horses before them, and so busy were they in keeping the troop together that Cameron and his men were close upon them before they were observed.