'tall but a lot of measly pappoose, thet's wot ye be, an' don't yer go fer to wake up sech a roarin' mountain painter as me!"
Barringford had just brought down his third Indian and was still at it, with Henry lending all the aid possible, when there came a sudden war-cry from the woods to the north of the opening. It was the cry of Indians friendly to the English, and scarcely had it ended when White Buffalo burst into view, followed by a number of his braves.
A glance told the chief what was happening, and without delay he leaped in to aid our friends, and in a moment more the redmen on both sides were having a battle as warm as the one just ended. But the Iroquois had suffered about all they could stand, and soon those that were able to move were in full retreat, while the others were just as speedily dispatched and scalped by the redmen who had put them to flight.
As soon as he was at liberty to do so, Henry approached the edge of the rocks, to ascertain, if possible, what had become of his cousin. Here, while he was peering eagerly down into the rapids and flying spray, Barringford joined him. Both were suffering from several small wounds from which the blood flowed freely, but to these hurts they, just then, paid no attention.
