Two young men who had been attached to an exploring party, out West, but
had unwisely strayed away from their companions, were leisurely riding
along the prairie, trying to track the footsteps of their friends, when
they saw on the brow of a hill in their rear about a dozen Indian
warriors, who were rapidly approaching them. There was not a moment to
lose. The white men were unarmed, save for their hunting-knives, while
the lances of the red men gleamed in the light of the afternoon sun.
Putting spurs to their horses the two young men tried to escape by
flight, but the derisive cries of the enemy showed that the distance was
rapidly lessening between them. Nothing could have saved them had it not
been that, just at the most critical moment, they reached a "windrow," a
strip of ground upon which a storm had hurled down the trunks of trees
in wild confusion. Hastily abandoning their horses to their fate, the
two friends got in among the thick fallen timber, where they concealed
themselves, and listened breathlessly while the Indians with shouts
pursued, and attempted to capture the coveted animals. But they did not
succeed. A cloud of dust heralded the approach of a party of men, who
with shouts and cries galloped into the midst of them.
It was the exploring party, whose opportune appearance saved their
companions' lives.
[Illustration: PURSUED BY NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.]