I believe he'd do even better in the swamps of Louisiana than here, yet I doubt if he has long to live. There was a gap here, looked like a couple of lost pages, then some words were smeared. ... suddenly there was an outburst of firing. Somebody yelled "Indians!" and we all fell into defensive positions. For awhile there was no sound, then a single shot. For some time there was no sound and when we took stock, Angus was dead--shot in the back of the head. When I talked with Pettigrew later, he admitted to having seen no Indians, nor had Pierre. Swan had seen one, Andre thought he had seen them. Andre showed a scar on the bark of a tree made by a bullet, and of course, Angus was dead. Well, now Judas knew what happened to his brother. I looked at him in the firelight and thought I saw tears in his eyes. There seemed nothing to say to him. He stood and walked away from the fire. "What do you think?" I asked Orrin. We were on the banks of the Rio Grande with Del Norte Peak looming to the soutwest.
