[Asf-udf-web-eval] Almon had to think of before going to bed. But soon

[Aiton S. <fil...@la...>]

 on our breast-straps. We sat with tight-shut teeth,--only muttering
now and then to each
other, in a glum undertone, "Don't get

nervous,--don't throw a single shot away,--take aim,--remember it's
for _home_!" Something of that sort, or
a silent squeeze of the hand, was all that passed, as we sat with one
eye glued to the ledges and our guns unswerving. None of us, I think,
were cowards; but the agony of sitting there, tugging along two miles
an hour, expecting
to hear a volley of yells and musketry ring
over the next ledge,
drinking the cup of thought to its miscroscopic dregs,--_that_ was
worse than fear! Only one consolation was left us. In the middle of the
defile stood

an overland station, where we were to get fresh horses. The next stage
was twenty miles long. If we were attacked
in force, we might manage to run it, almost the whole way, unless the
Indians succeeded in shooting one
of our team,--the _coup_ they always attempt. I have no doubt we were
ambushed at several points in that defile, but our perfect preparation
intimidated our foes. The Indian is cruel as the grave, but he is an
arrant coward.
He will not risk being the first man shot, though his band may
overpower the enemy afterward. At last we turned the corner around
which the station-house should come in view. A th