In coming to the earth, the wounded man fell
over the brow of the sharp acclivity, and was heard rolling toward
its base.
Le Bourdon felt the importance of now improving the precious
moments, and was in the act of urging his companion to follow, when
the latter passed an arm around his body, whipped his knife from the
girdle and sheath, and dropping the rifle into his friend's arms,
bounded away in the darkness, taking the direction of his fallen
enemy. There was no mistaking all this; Chippewa, led by his own
peculiar sense of honor, risking everything to obtain the usual
trophy of victory. By this time, a dozen of the savages stood on the
brow of the hill, seemingly at a loss to understand what had become
of the combatants. Perceiving this, the bee-hunter profited by the
delay and reloaded his rifle. As everything passed almost as swiftly
as the electric spark is known to travel, it was but a moment after
the Pottawattamie fell ere his conqueror was through with his bloody
task. Just as le Bourdon threw his rifle up into the hollow of his
arm, he was rejoined by his red friend, who bore the reeking scalp
of the sentinel at his belt; though fortunately the bee-hunter did
not see it on account of the obscurity, else might he not have been
so willing to continue to act with so ruthless an ally.
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