stingy government granted him, he hadlittle else to live upon. He resided in a pretty little cottage about aquarter of a mile from our house, and it used to be my delight to visithim in the gloaming. I would go quietly in, and seat myself on a stoolin a corner, and wait to be recognised. By-and-bye I would lead him tospeak of the olden times, and of the battles and sieges by sea and landhe had taken part in.
"But this story I am going to tell you he has repeated to me again andagain, in different words maybe, but the facts were always the same.
"It was in the days of the American war, the war of freedom andindependence, which, to my way of thinking, are the birthrights of everyman born, and of every nation as well. England, mates, did not fight inan over-gentlemanly fashion in those days, and I think it is a stain onour country's escutcheon that the Indians of the Far West were armed andemployed at all.
"But this is not what I am sitting here to discuss, only my grandfatherand Tom Turner, a junior of his, both belonged in those days to PontiusPilate's guards [the 1st, or Royal Scots Regiment], and were stationedat the same place.
"Though Tom was a few years younger than grand-dad, they wereinseparables, so to speak, and always in the same 'ploy, whatever that'ploy might be. To say that they were both Highlanders is equivalent totelling you they were both fond of field sports; and when one day WildEye, Chief of the Cheebuk Indians, promised them some first-rate huntingif they could get leave for a few days, you may be sure they were notlong in applying for it--ay, and obtaining it, too; for young Tom Turnerhad a wonderful tongue for getting round his colonel, and, as the troopswere in garrison, the services of these officers wouldn't be muchmissed.
"It was a lovely morning when they set out on their journey west,mounted on three half-bred horses, as fleet as the wind, and just asindependent.
"Now it would seem that hiring Indians was a game that in those days twocould play at; and though the honour of the idea should be awarded tothe British, as having been the inventors, as it were, stilltit-for-tat, you know, and everything is fair in war, so the Yankeeswere not far behind.
"There were, in reality, two different sets of Indians on the warpath,both bent upon getting as many scalps as possible for the decoration oftheir wigwams, for the Christmas season, as one might say.
"This fact made travelling a very risky kind of a business.
"The first day passed over without almost any kind of adventure, only itwas summer on the prairie they were passing over, and there was no shadeof bush nor tree, and the insects were almost as much of a torture asthe sun's rays.
"Old Wild Eye, the chief, must have been a clever fellow, indeed, for onthis rolling plain there was neither road nor track, except the trailsof wild animals; to have followed those would have led my grand-dad aqueer dance.
"When the sun went down at last, glaring red through the haze of blue,it got almost cold, but they dared not think of lighting a fire, becauseof the hostile Indians, so they hobbled their nags, ate their supper,and sat huddled up in their blankets beneath the stars till long pasttwelve. They were listening to Wild Eye's adventures on the warpath.
"Wild Eye was a border chief, and friendly with the British; in fact, hehad been once to Quebec, and so considered himself about half aChristian. Wild Eye was as bald as the back of my watch, and had nomore teeth than a tin whistle. He had scars innumerable, only one ear,and about half a nose, for he had been twice put to the torture, andsaved as if by a miracle.
"His scalp, he told my grand-dad, hung in many wigwams. The fact is,Wild Eye wore a wig, and when he lost one in warfare, he wore a morselof buffalo hide until he was able to negotiate with his barber inOntario. Each wig was paid for not in coin but in land. Each wig costWild Eye twenty acres of territory, and they say that the descendants ofhis barber are millionaires to-day.
"But my grand-dad and his friend fell sound asleep at last, and not eventhe presence of a grizzly bear, who came round to snuff after theremains of the supper, awoke them until the sun was so high that itnearly hardened the whites of their eyes, as heat does the white of anegg.
"`I say, John,' said Tom Turner to my grand-dad, `we've got five days'leave. I feel so happy, that I think we ought to make it a fortnight.'
"But grand-dad laughed. `No,' he said, `that wouldn't be fair, Tom.Let us stick to our furlough, and be back in five days if we can.'
"About evening on the second day they bade farewell to the rollingprairie, and plunged into a deep ravine, and bivouacked in a pine-cladgorge near the banks of a stream. This river was teeming with fish ofthe most delicate flavour. They caught enough for supper, and once moresettled themselves to listen to the tales of the Indian chief.
"There were strange, unearthly noises in the forest that night which mygrand-dad could not Understand--shrieks and yells and awful howlings,but he dozed off at last and dreamt he was head keeper in a kind ofpandemonium.
"Next morning sport began in earnest, for they found they were near thehead-quarters of the grizzly and wilder cinnamon bear.
"Next to our friend the Arctic Bruin, there is no creature in the worldwith which a man has less chance in a fair stand-up fight than with thecinnamon. I don't say, mates, but that any bear will prefer shufflingoff to coming to close quarters, but don't you catch a grizzly orcinnamon unawares behind a rock or a bush. I tell you that the onlycomfort you can have at that awful moment is the memory that you've madeyour will, and don't owe your tailor anything to signify.
"Tom Turner was following up a grizzly, who was well on ahead, so he hadeyes for nothing else; but on rounding a point on the hill-top, he wasstartled with a roar that went through him like a rip-saw, and foundhimself face to jowl with a cinnamon bear. Tom sprang back so suddenlythat he burst his waistcoat buttons. His musket went off at the samemoment, and Bruin made a spring to hug Tom Turner. The bullet found abillet in the beast's neck, but didn't stop his way, and next moment thebear and Tom both were tumbling down, down, down over a precipice. Thebear fell on the top of a rock, and was killed. Tom alighted on the topof a juniper tree, and wasn't a bit the worse, for Tom was a tough lad.
"There were three or four bears altogether killed that forenoon, and Idaresay a good many more frightened. However, about one o'clock thethree friends were seated on the top of a breezy eminence overlookingthe bonnie glen, and in sight of their horses, while they enjoyed theirlunch or tiffin.
"`What a lovely day!' said Tom, as he lay at full length on thegreensward. `How wildly sublime those hills are! Wooded almost to thesummits everyone of them; and look, John, at that river far beneathyonder, like a silver thread winding away through the greenery of theforest. You're not looking, John.'
"`I'm looking at something else,' said my grand-dad.
"Ugh!" cried the Indian chief, springing to his feet, seizing his gun,and pointing with it to a hill-top beyond the ravine.
"There were figures there--dark, creeping figures, no bigger apparentlythan coyotes.
"They were Indians."
A GALLOP FOR LIFE AND FREEDOM.
"They were Indians sure enough, and doubtless only scouts of a biggerparty.
"There was no time to lose. Sport and all was forgotten; they mustmount their horses, and be off back to the prairie land. There theywould be clear, at least, of an ambush, and could trust to the fleetnessof their horses.
"They hurried madly down hill, reaching and mounting their mustangs justas a volley was fired from both sides of the stream, the bulletspeppering the trees about, and splashing on the rocks and stones. Theywere off like the wind next minute. Rough though the path was, roundrocks, over fallen trees, and slippery, mossy banks, the good nags kepttheir feet, and soon the prairie was gained.
"Once fairly in it, they ventured to look behind. To their surprisethey found themselves followed by several mounted Indians--a dozen inall, at the very least.
"Out on the open prairie, the half-bred mustangs seemed to fly over theground, but they were not so fresh as the horses of the pursuers, andthe pac
e soon began to tell, and three out of the four savages camerattling on abreast.
"A bullet or two flew over them. It was evident they must fight. At agiven signal, then, they wheeled their horses, and took deadly aim, andnext moment there were two empty saddles; again they fired, and thebewildered third Indian came tumbling down over a dead horse.
"But the others came thundering on behind with yells for revenge, yellsfor blood and scalps.
Away went our gallant trio once again, but now, alas! Tom's horsetripped and fell, and at the same moment the chief's steed was shot.
"They must fight on foot now, and with terrible odds. But they were alldetermined to sell their lives dearly.
"Now, whatever old chroniclers may say to the contrary, American Indiansnever did fight fairly if they