DAN'S EAGERNESS FOR ADVENTURES--MOSQUITOS--A TEMPEST BREWING--THE STORM
UPON US--RISING OF THE RIVER--THE FLOOD--A FEARFUL FLASH--DIO TAKES THE
LEAD--A MISERABLE NIGHT--STRANGERS IN CAMP--RUMOURS OF INDIANS--
FOLLOWING UP THE TRAIL--THE PLUNDERED EMIGRANT TRAIN--THE WOLVES--A
PRAIRIE FLOWER--ALONE IN THE DESERTED CAMP--NEW DANGERS--A SURPRISE FOR
MY MOTHER--THE HALT--GRAVES BY THE WAYSIDE--THE ONLY RECORDS OF THE
SLAIN--"LILY'S MOTHER SLEEPS HERE."
"I say, Mike, I thought by this time that we should have fought half a
dozen battles with the redskins, killed no end of buffalo and deer,
unkennelled black bears and grizzlies without number, and trapped
beavers and racoons and 'possums by scores!" exclaimed Dan, as we were
seated round our camp-fire.
"Wait a bit, my boy, until we get farther on our journey," remarked Mr
Tidey, who overheard Dan, "we shall have adventures enough then to
satisfy you, and enable Mike to fill up his journal to overflowing,
though, for my part, I confess I shall be very glad, as I suspect will
be your father and mother, if we get through without them."
"Not much chance of that," I observed, "or we shall be an exception to
the general rule. I hope, however, if we do meet with hostile Indians,
that we may be able to beat them off. Martin Prentis, who has been a
good deal among them, says that they are arrant cowards, and will only
attack people when they find them unprepared."
We were, I should have said, encamped in our usual fashion, near a
stream, that we might obtain as much water as we required. Along the
bank was a belt of trees with a copse, which afforded us a supply of
fire-wood. The weather had been exceedingly hot, and scarcely had we
halted than we had to encounter an enemy for which we had not bargained.
Swarms of mosquitos attacked us the moment we left the protecting smoke
of the fire, buzzing round our heads in countless numbers, stinging our
faces and hands and such parts of our legs and ankles as were exposed.
Fortunately my mother had some mosquito curtains, within which she and
Kathleen obtained shelter at night, though we who had no means of
resisting their assaults were so stung that we could scarcely recognise
each other.
"In my opinion we shall have a storm before long," observed Martin
Prentis, "the way these creatures bite is a pretty sure sign of what is
going to happen."
Not long after he had made the remark, on looking up at the sky I saw a
thick mass of clouds sweeping across it, the stars rapidly disappearing.
Suddenly the whole horizon was lighted up with flashes of brilliant
flame and reiterated peals of thunder burst forth with fearful loudness.
There was, however, but little wind, and as yet no rain had fallen. As
Martin had advised, my father had the tilts of the waggons carefully
secured with additional ropes over them, as he had also my mother's
tent. The storm drew nearer and nearer. The lightning had hitherto
been at a distance, but now thick bars of fire darted through the air,
remaining visible for many seconds, zigzagging backwards and forwards
before they reached the ground, along which they went hissing like fiery
serpents, sometimes striking into it with loud crashes. Again for a
minute or two all seemed darkness, then once more the whole heaven was
illuminated, the thunder all the time roaring and rattling, now coming
from one direction, now from another. Our terrified horses rushed up to
the camp seeking protection, although the more stolid oxen appeared
indifferent to the uproar. Hitherto the air had been calm. Suddenly a
fierce blast swept across the plain, shaking the awnings of the waggons,
and threatening to bear them off bodily, or tear them to pieces.
Scarcely had the blast struck the camp, than down came the rain. My
mother and Kathleen rushed hurriedly into their tent, followed at their
invitation by Biddy and Rose, while we sought such shelter as the
waggons could afford. That was rain, and not only rain but hail, each
piece of ice the size of a pigeon's egg, some even larger. The rain
fell in no small drops, but in sheets of water, and soon converted our
camp into a pond, the spot on which my mother's tent stood happily
forming an island. With the crashing of the thunder, the roar of the
wind, and the fierce pattering of the rain, we could scarcely hear each
other speak. We were thankful that we had already encamped before the
storm came on. Hour after hour it raged without giving any sign of
diminution. I was seated alongside Uncle Denis, wrapped up in a buffalo
robe in one of the waggons nearest to the river, which we could
occasionally see by stretching out our necks beyond the canvas as the
flashes of lightning darted across it.
"Mike, does it strike you that the water has risen higher than it was
when we first encamped? Watch for the next flash, and tell me what you
think."