Here they halted to "noon." As they were seated on the grass, quietly taking their dinner, they were alarmed by the startling cry from the guard, of "All hands." In an instant everybody was up, with his rifle in hand.

The horses were immediately both hobbled and picketed, while all eyes were directed to a wild-looking band approaching in the distance.

As they drew near they proved to be a party of fourteen white men, returning on foot to the States.

Their baggage was strapped to their backs.

It was indeed a forlorn and way-worn band.