José — page 173: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

166 JOSE. CHAPTER XII. OLD BOB. It had all been like a dream to Baumann, the attack on the caravan by the Indians. As the first appearance of the savages had seemed but a long wished-for realization of the conceptions he had formed at the outset of the journey, the subsequent development of events and the excitement they en- gendered, inspired him with an enthusiasm that completely banished the consciousness of danger. Without reserve he had abandoned himself to this enthusiasm. The Indians clambered over the wagons and like howling demons gained the interior space of the corral—when simultaneously another on- slaught was made from without and the freighters, regardless of discipline, and being threatened on all sides, were forced to defend their lives in a hope- less struggle of man to man. Baumann, in obedi- ence to a sudden impulse, had seized his rifle at the muzzle and brought the butt down among the dusky faces that met his view in confused numbers all about him. Fora short time he succeeded in keep- ing back the assailants, but suddenly he felt his head striking the spokes of a wheel and himself hurled among the wagons. Then all was darkness. On opening his eyes, fresh green leaves were rustling about his face. but an acute pain in his head induced him to raise his hand to that part of his body even before he had begun to think clearly over his situation. He felt a wet cloth wrapped around his head that was softly bedded on a folded Eomichooks.co