Starting and turning
round, he beheld a naked savage with a bow bent, and the arrow pointed
at his breast. In an instant his gun was leveled and his hand upon the
lock. The Indian drew his bow still further, but forbore to launch the
shaft. Mr. Bradbury, with admirable presence of mind, reflected that the
savage, if hostile in his intents, would have shot him without giving
him a chance of defense; he paused, therefore, and held out his hand.
The other took it in sign of friendship, and demanded in the Osage
language whether he was a Big Knife, or American. He answered in the
affirmative, and inquired whether the other were a Sioux. To his great
relief he found that he was a Ponca. By his time two other Indians came
running up, and all three laid hold of Mr. Bradbury and seemed disposed
to compel him to go off with them among the hills. He resisted, and
sitting down on a sand hill contrived to amuse them with a pocket
compass. When the novelty of this was exhausted they again seized him,
but he now produced a small microscope. This new wonder again fixed the
attention of the savages, who have more curiosity than it has been the
custom to allow them. While thus engaged, one of them suddenly leaped up
and gave a war-whoop. The hand of the hardy naturalist was again on his
gun, and he was prepared to make battle, when the Indian pointed down
the river and revealed the true cause of his yell.
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