is
shoulder.

"Do you know aught regarding those devils, Master Benteen?"

"They are strange to me; no kin, I think, to any tribe east of the
great river."

He sat in silent contemplation a long moment, his eyes fastened upon
the savage group.

"Did you chance to notice," he asked at last, speaking more
thoughtfully, "how they hissed that word 'Francais,' when they first
rushed up the hill upon us? It somehow recalled to memory an odd tale
told me long ago by old Major Duponceau, who was out with the troops in
1729, about a strange people they warred against down on the
Ocatahoola. These must be either the same savages--although he swore
they were put to the sword--or else of the same stock, and have felt
the taste of French steel."

"What did he call them?"

"Natchez; although I remember now he referred to them once as 'White
Apples,' saying they were of fair skin. He told me, but I recall
little of it, many a strange story of their habits and appearance, to
illustrate how greatly they differed from other tribes of savages with
whom he had met. They worshipped the sun."

"'T is true of the Creeks."

"Ay! they play at it, but with the Natchez 't is a real religion; they
had a priesthood and altars of sacrifice, on which the fires were never
quenched. Their victims died with all the ardor of fanaticism, and in
peace and war the sun was their god, ever demanding offering of blood.
But see, the moment comes when we must front those fiends again."

The afternoon sun had lowered so that its glaring rays no longer
brightened the depths of the canyon, all upon our side of the stream
lying quiet in the shadow. The Indians began their advance toward us
in much the same formation as before, but more cautiously, with less
noisy demonstration, permitting me to note they had slung their weapons
to their backs, bearing in their hands ugly fragments of rock. The old
matted-hair savage, who had received a severe slash upon his shoulder
during our last _melee_, hung well to the rear, contenting himself with
giving encouragement to the others.

"Stand stoutly to the work, friend Cairnes," I called across to him,
feeling the heartsome sound of English speech might prove welcome. "If
we drive them this time, they will hardly seek more at our hands."

"It will be even according to the will of the Lord of Hosts," he
returned piously. "Yet I greatly fear lest my sword-blade be not sound
within its hilt."

"Stoop low