"Midst the dark horrors of the sable night
(No idle dream I tell nor fancy's strain)
Thrice rose the red man's shade upon my sight,
Thrice vanished into dusky air again.
With courage high my panting bosom swells,
Onward I rushed upon the threatening foe,
When, hark! Horrific rise the spectre's yells
He points the steel and aims the fatal blow;
Guard, sentinel! to arms! to arms! to arms!
Indians! Indians! my voice swelled loud and deep:
The camp is roused at dread of my alarms,
They wake and find—that I am sound asleep!
They were greatly amused at the recital of his imaginary fancies, and seemed to understand how little import I attached to such visions. "Happen what may," said they, "we shall never quit our father until we see him in a place of safety." This was precisely what I desired. I could not, however, deceive myself. {149} I had finally entered a land, the theatre of so many sanguinary scenes. I was now on the very confines of these barbarous people, from which, possibly, I should never return! It not unfrequently happens, that, in their unbridled fury when they hear some relative has been killed, the Black-feet despatch the first stranger they meet, scalp him—and then abandon to the wolves and dogs, the palpitating limbs of the unfortunate victim of their vengeance, hatred, and superstition. I declare to you, I was beset by a thousand disquietudes concerning the fate that awaited me. Poor nature! this timid and fragile meus homo is sometimes terrified. He would wish to look back and listen to dreams. My longing desires repeated incessantly—Advance! I placed my whole confidence in God—the prayers of so many fervent souls encouraged and re-animated me; I resolved not to be deterred by an uncertain danger. The Lord can, when he pleases, mollify these pitiless and ferocious hearts. The salvation of souls is at stake, and the preservation
