s left clear; but as soon as the black ground had
been laid on, a new substance was exhibited, of snow-white colour,
resembling chalk or gypsum. With this--after the blood had been
carefully dried off--the circular space was thickly coated over, until a
white disc, about as large as a dining-plate shewed conspicuously on my
breast! A red spot in the centre of this was necessary to complete the
_escutcheon_; but the painter appeared at a loss for the colour, and
paused to reflect. Only a moment did he remain at fault. He was an
ingenious artist; and his ingenuity soon furnished him with an idea.
Drawing his knife, and sticking the point of it some half inch deep into
the fleshy part of my thigh, he obtained the required "carmine"; and,
after dipping his finger in the blood, and giving it a dab in the centre
of the white circle, he stood for a short time contemplating his work.
A grim smile announced that he was satisfied with it; and, uttering a
final grunt, the swarthy Apelles leaped down from the platform, and
disappeared from my sight. A horrid suspicion had already taken
possession of my soul; but I was not left long to speculate upon the
purpose for which I had been thus bedaubed: the suspicion gave place to
certainty.

Upon the plain directly in front of me, and at less than a hundred
yards' distance from the butte, the warriors were collecting in groups.
The Red-Hand with his under-chiefs had already arrived there; and the
other Indians were forsaking the fires, and hurrying up to the spot.
They had left their lances apart, standing upright on the plain, with
their shields, bows, and quivers leaning against them, or suspended from
their shafts. The only weapons taken along with them to the common
rendezvous were the muskets. With these they were now occupying
themselves--apparently preparing them for use. I saw them mark out a
line upon the grass, by stretching a lazo between two upright pegs. I
saw them wiping, loading, and priming their pieces--in short, going
through all the preliminary manoeuvres, observed by marksmen preparing
for a trial of skill. Then burst on me in all its broad reality the
dread horror for which I was reserved--then did I comprehend the design
of that white circle with its centre of red: the savages were about to
hold a shooting-match--_my own bosom was to be their target_!

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

A PITILESS PASTIME.

Yes--to hold a shooting-match was undoubtedly the desi