"It seems to me almost up to the top of the bank," I answered.
"I hope it won't come higher, then," he said, "for if it does, we shall
have to harness up, and seek for a more elevated position to spend the
remainder of the night, though it won't be pleasant to have to move
while the storm lasts."
Again looking out, and waiting for another flash, it appeared to me that
the water had not only risen to the bank, but had overflowed. It was
meandering in various channels over the ground.
I told my uncle, who watched as I had done, until he was convinced in
another few minutes that our camp would be completely flooded. He
shouted out to my father, who agreed with him. Our first care was to
get my mother and Kathleen, with their attendants, into their waggon,
and to wrap them up as well as we could. We then, calling to the men,
hurried out, splashing over the wet ground, while the rain came like a
shower-bath down on our heads, to catch the oxen and harness them up.
It was no easy matter to find the animals, as it was only when the
lightning flashed forth that we could distinguish them, so pitchy dark
was the night. First one team was caught, then another and another, we
all shouting at the top of our voices to make ourselves heard. There
was no time to be lost; already the water was almost up to the axles.
At length, however, we got the oxen harnessed and the horses saddled.
First one waggon was drawn out, and then another, but it took some time
before all were ready to move forward. The next point to be considered
was the direction to take. We might possibly only find ourselves on
lower ground, and consequently in deeper water. My father and Uncle
Denis, who had mounted their horses, rode forward, telling us to keep
shouting, that they might find us again. The lightning continued
flashing as before, so that we could see them for a short time as they
rode away. My father had directed me to move on in as straight a line
as we could keep at right angles from the river, and by turning round I
could occasionally get a view of the trees which fringed its banks,
showing me that we were as nearly as possible keeping the course he
wished. Still I felt very anxious. I had remembered passing along a
deep gully which would in all probability be full of water, and before
we were aware of it the leading oxen might tumble in, and perhaps drag
the waggon after them. I told Martin and another man to go to their
heads and feel the way with poles, while the rest of the waggons kept as
close as possible one behind the other. The drivers, however, finding
the water rising, could with difficulty be induced to follow my orders.
Behind us we could hear the sound of the rushing waters as the swollen
river swept along, and at intervals the voices of the men driving the
rear waggons reached my ears, shouting to us to move faster. We were
thus advancing cautiously when I caught sight of a dark object rising up
almost before me and apparently reaching to the sky. It was a tree, but
in the darkness it seemed of gigantic proportions.
At that moment a vivid flash darted from the clouds, a loud explosion
followed with a deafening crash, and the stout trunk was rent asunder,
the branches falling on every side, the leading oxen narrowly escaping
being crushed. I should have been swept off my frightened horse had he
not sprang forward, trembling in every limb. The flash revealed to me
one of the gullies I had been anxious to avoid. I shouted to the other
men to keep clear of the danger. At the same time a dread seized me
lest my father and Uncle Denis might have ridden into it, and have been
carried away by the boiling current.
The men replied that they could not see their way, and from the cries
which reached me it was evident that the whole train was in confusion.
The roar of the waters drowned our voices. At that moment another flash
showed me a figure close by my side and I caught the words--
"Me show de way, dare high ground little ahead, come 'long."
It was Dio, who had leapt from the waggon in which he had been seated
and had come to the front, the post of danger. Endowed with a keener
eyesight than the rest of us, during darkness he had distinguished the
ground which we had failed to see. The leading waggon followed him, and
we were soon assured that the ground was rising. Though this was the
case, it might again sink and we should be in a worse position than
before. I was greatly relieved when I heard a shout in reply to ours
and could distinguish the figures of my father and Uncle Denis against
the sky. They had found a spot, not likely to be reached by the water
they believed, where we could camp for the remainder of the night. They
led us to it along the ridge we had gained, avoiding a deep dip, into
which, had we descended, we should have been worse off than before. Of
course we were all wet to the skin; but, while the rain poured down in
bucketfuls as it was doing, we could light no fire to dry our clothes.
Still we were thankful that we had escaped the danger which had
threatened us, and we managed to place our waggons in the usual
position, so that at daylight we might be prepared for enemies should
any appear. When morning broke we had reason to be grateful to Heaven
that we had moved away in time from the bank of the river, for the
ground on which we had encamped was covered with water to the depth
apparently of several feet, while the current swept by with a force
sufficient to have carried our waggons and cattle away. As the day
advanced, the storm ceased, the clouds rolled off and the sun burst
forth, his warm rays soon drying our clothes and the wet tilts of the
waggons.
The flood had so completely obliterated the trail, that my father and
uncle deemed it prudent either to ride on ahead themselves, or to send
Mr Tidey and me forward to ascertain the proper route to take. They
had gone on in the morning where the road was more difficult, and after
our mid-day stoppage the Dominie and I took the lead. In all directions
were traces of the storm, trees uprooted, the streams flooded, the
ground being covered with broken branches of trees and occasionally we
came across the bodies of animals which had been caught by the current
and drowned.
As the day was drawing to a close we were looking out for a spot on
which to camp for the night. As I gazed ahead I saw some objects moving
across the plain.
"Can those be Indians?" I asked, pointing them out to Mr Tidey; "if
so, they may be Sioux or Blackfeet and give us some trouble."
He reined up his horse, and, shading his eyes with his hand, gazed at
them steadily. "No, that's a waggon, and coming this way too," he
answered, "they may be emigrants who have turned back either because
they have been frightened by Indians, or having lost some of their
cattle by the floods have found it impossible to proceed; supposing the
latter to be the case, they appear to be coming on very rapidly."
"They seem to me to be running away from enemies," I observed, "however,
we shall soon know."
"At all events we must try to select our camping-ground before they come
up, or they may occupy it," answered Mr Tidey, "there is a stream to
the right bordered by trees. It is just the spot we want. Ride back,
Mike, and hurry on the waggons. We shall have formed our camp before
the strangers arrive."
While Mr Tidey rode in the direction towards which he pointed, I
galloped back and gave notice of the approach of a train from the
westward. I had observed an easy pass among the hills which led down to
the stream, and through it I was able to guide our waggons. We reached
the ground selected by Mr Tidey in good time to camp before dark, and
our arrangements had just been concluded when the strangers approached.
As they drew near, my father and I went to meet them, to show them a
spot near ours where they might encamp. Two men, seeing us coming,
advanced towards us: one of them was a sturdy, strong, bold fellow, but
the other had nothing of the backwoodsman about him in appearance.
"Glad to fall in with you, strangers," said the first; "and if you
follow my advice, you will turn back with us, unless you wish to have
your scalps taken by the Indians or your cattle drowned by the floods,
or if you escape them, to die of hunger and thirst as you travel over
the desert to the westward, though it's my opinion you'll never get many
days journey from this."
"Your report, friend, is not very encouraging," answered my father,
"though, as I am prepared to encounter some difficulty, I cannot promise
to follow your advice; however, as we shall spend the evening together
we shall hear more of what you have gone through. To save you time, we
looked out for a spot for your camp. You cannot do better than occupy
it."
The stranger thanked us. "Whereabouts is it?" he asked.
"It is a little to the westward of where our waggons are drawn up."
"I'd rather go further east," said the stranger when he saw it, "and
place you between ourselves and the redskins. We've had one battle
already, and to say the truth have no stomachs for another. You may
take your turn next, should they come, and I am not certain that they
will not before daybreak."
"You are welcome to camp where you like," answered my father, amused at
the stranger's cowardice, of which he did not seem at all ashamed; "we
shall look to you, however, to help us in driving back the redskins if
they make their appearance."
We, however, assisted the strangers in finding a suitable spot a little
to the eastward of our camp, and in a short time they drew up their
waggons on it.
As soon as we had finished supper my father and Uncle Denis and I went
over to the strangers' camp, to hear a further account of their
proceedings.
The story they gave of the dangers they had encountered was sufficiently
alarming to make persons less determined than my father and uncle give
up the expedition they had undertaken. They had narrowly escaped being
carried away by a flood the previous evening, and had been only the day
before surrounded by a body of Indians, with whom, as it turned out,
they had only exchanged shots, when the redskins had retreated without
blood being shed. They mentioned, however, another train of four or
five waggons which had been some way ahead of them, and told us that
they had considerable apprehensions as to their fate.
"We will hope for the best," said my father, "if the people are prudent
and keep a careful watch, I believe they may easily beat off any Indians
of these parts, who never attack white men unless they can take them by
surprise."
We did our best to persuade our new acquaintances to turn back once more
with us, but they had so completely lost heart that nothing we could say
had any effect.
"No, no, friend," answered their leader, "we committed a folly in
leaving our comfortable farm in Ohio. We have made up our minds to be
wiser in future, and look out for another location eastward, beyond the
reach of the Indians. If you are wise, you will do the same."
"From my experience I should say that we are as likely to be annoyed by
white men as the redskins, and by treating the latter honestly I hope
that we shall gain their friendship and have no cause to dread them,"
said my father.
"You'll act as you judge best, but I have warned you of what you may
have to expect," was the answer.
We parted the next morning with mutual expressions of good will, and
while the returning emigrants hurried off eastward, we continued our
course to the west, the marks made by their waggon wheels enabling us to
proceed rapidly until we reached the spot where they had encamped the
previous night. Here the truth of their story was corroborated by the
appearance of Indian trails which led away westward. We encamped a
little further on, and of course kept a careful watch at night, but no
enemy appeared.
Next afternoon Mr Tidey and I were riding ahead followed by Boxer and
another of our dogs--without whom indeed, we never left the camp, as
they were sure to give us timely warning should any Indians be lurking
around. We knew, however, that they would not attack the red-men, of
whom they seemed to have an instinctive dread, but would silently slink
close to us, should any enemies be near. We were looking out, as may be
supposed, for Indian trails, as well as for those of the other emigrant
train of which we had heard, when we saw signs on the ground which at
first puzzled us. We dismounted to examine them more carefully.
"If we had an Indian guide, he would quickly tell us what they mean,"
observed the Dominie. "See, here are oxen and wheel tracks, and these
are the marks of moccasins. I suspect that a party of Indians out on
the war-path have followed the waggons, and I fear after all that the
emigrants were not so far wrong in their conjectures as we supposed. I
only hope the people on ahead have kept a careful watch and beaten back
their wily foe."
"Let us push on, and try to overtake the Indians before they attack the
train," I said. "When they see another party of white men approaching,
they may judge it prudent to give up their enterprise; and if they
pursue us, our fast horses will enable us easily to keep out of their
way."
The Dominie, though not blind to the risk we might run, agreed to my
proposal; the ground was open and level, and there was no brushwood
either to the right or left which might conceal a lurking foe. We
accordingly put our horses into a gallop, believing that we should soon
come up with the train, or get sight of the Indians, should they still
be following it. "The redskins will be looking ahead, and will not
discover us until we have seen them," I observed.
Suddenly the dogs, which had been keeping alongside us, dashed forward,
just at the moment that we, from the unevenness of the ground, were
compelled to pull up. On reaching the summit of one of the undulations
rather than hills, which rise in different parts of the prairie, we saw
some objects in the distance which we both agreed must be waggons. As
we got nearer we saw that two were upset, and that from a third smoke
was ascending, while from another the tilt had been torn off, one only
remaining intact.
"That must be the train we are in search of," observed the Dominie; "it
has too evidently been attacked by the Indians; but I see no one moving
about. Perhaps the savages caught sight of us, and supposing that we
were at the head of a large party, have gone off. We may be in time to
help some of the poor people, if any have escaped with their lives,
though I fear the worst, as the redskins seldom leave their work half
finished, and the chances are that all the white men have been killed."
We rode forward as fast as the rugged nature of the ground would allow,
prepared at any moment to wheel round and gallop back should we catch
sight of the savages.
We hoped, however, as the dogs did not return, that we should have no
trouble on that account. We were still at some distance from the
waggons, when we heard a loud yelping and barking.
"Those sounds came from a pack of wolves," exclaimed Mr Tidey; "I see
the brutes, they are calling to each other, expecting to enjoy a banquet
on the dead bodies of the slain."
Directly afterwards we caught sight of the animals making their way
through the brushwood and trees which surrounded the waggons. Above
their hideous yelps we could distinguish the deep honest bark of our own
dogs. Forgetting for the moment the risk we ran of being surprised, we
put spurs to our horses, and galloping over the uneven ground soon got
up to the spot. Neither cattle nor horses were visible, they had
evidently been carried off. The scene which soon met our eyes filled us
with horror.
On the ground lay half-a-dozen men, each of whom had been scalped and
their bodies partly stripped. Farther on were two or three more, who
had fallen between the waggons. Some of the wolves, more daring than
their companions, had advanced at the head of the pack, and would
already have commenced the horrible repast had not our two noble dogs,
barking furiously, kept them at bay.
"I am afraid we are too late here to be of any use except to bury the
dead," observed Mr Tidey as we surveyed the melancholy scene. "But
holloa! what is that among the bushes? A woman,--I see her moving.
Perhaps we may be in time to save her."
Forgetting that the Indians might still be at hand, we dismounted, and
fastening our horses to the wheels of one of the waggons, made our way
through the brushwood. As we did so, a couple of wolves approached from
an opposite direction, and were on the point of seizing the woman's
body, when Boxer and his companion springing forward, they took to
flight. We hurried to the assistance of the poor woman. We now saw
that it was not she who had moved, but a little girl whose arms were
thrown round her.
"Oh! come help Lily!" exclaimed the child, at once recognising us as
white men: "look up mother! oh, mother, mother! speak to Lily, one word.
White man come to help you, no fear now."
In vain, however, Lily called to her mother. While I took the child in
my arms, Mr Tidey knelt down by the side of the poor lady. The blood
which flowed from her breast, and dyed the ground on which she lay, too
plainly told that she had received a mortal wound.
"She is beyond our help," he said; "but I would prevent her body being
devoured by these abominable brutes. Do you carry the child, and I will
convey the poor mother into the nearest waggon. We can cover her up
sufficiently to prevent the wolves getting at her until we return, when
we can bury her decently, as well as the rest of the murdered people."
I did as he advised, and was making my way to where we had left the
horses, when I heard a loud explosion, and fragments of all sorts came
whizzing through the air: mercifully none of them struck me. I looked
round, and was thankful to see Mr Tidey safe. I had forgotten the
waggon which we had seen burning. The horses, terrified by the sound,
reared and plunged, and broke their bridles. The Dominie, letting the
body fall, rushed after his horse; fortunately catching it, he galloped
after mine in the direction from which we had come, and I found myself
standing alone in the midst of the blackened train, with the little girl
clinging to my neck and crying bitterly for her mother to speak to her,
while the wolves, driven to a distance by the explosion, howled and
yelped around me, though kept from again approaching by the gallant dogs
and the shouts I raised for the purpose of keeping them at bay.
I felt that I was in a fearful position. At any moment the savages
might return, in the hopes of obtaining more plunder. I had my rifle,
and I determined to defend the little girl and myself to the last. A
new danger arose: the waggon was burning furiously; the flames might
ignite the others, which in all probability also contained kegs of
powder, and it was more than likely that the grass would be set on fire
and the whole prairie would be in a blaze. Not only should I and my
young companion lose our lives, but my friends would be exposed to the
most fearful danger. I must endeavour, I saw, to make some effort to
prevent the catastrophe; but I had not the heart to force the little
girl's arms from around my neck, and to place her on the ground. I
endeavoured to tranquillise her by every means I could think of. At
last I bethought me of placing her in the only waggon which remained
upright.
"Stay quiet there, Lily," I observed; "no one will hurt you, and I will
come back as soon as possible. I want to try and put out that fire, or
it will do us harm."
"Don't leave me, don't leave me," cried Lily; but as she did not resist.
I placed her in the waggon, and begged her to be quiet, while I seized
a long stick which lay on the ground, and rushing up to the fire, beat
out the flames which already rose from the grass. Mercifully it was not
so thick there as in other places a short distance off. I rushed round
and round the burning mass, now and then being just in time to reach a
snake-like line of flame which was extending towards the brushwood or in
the direction of the tall grass, which, had it gained, nothing could
have stopped the dreaded catastrophe. I was thus engaged when I heard a
loud holloa! For a moment I thought the Indians were upon me, but on
looking up, I saw Mr Tidey, leading my horse and followed by Uncle
Denis. They were soon up to me, and leaping from their steeds, without
stopping to ask questions, commenced stamping out the smouldering fire,
which a sudden puff of wind might soon have raised again into a flame.
Not until they had succeeded in overcoming the threatened danger did
they speak a word. Uncle Denis then told me that they had heard the
report; and fearing that we might be exposed to danger, he had galloped
forward to ascertain the cause, leaving the waggons under the command of
my father, who had made every preparation for resistance in case they
should be attacked by the Indians. He had seen Mr Tidey catch my
horse, and had been very anxious lest some accident should have befallen
me. A few words served to explain what had happened, and I then hurried
back to poor little Lily.
"We are safe now, Lily," I said, "and you must come with me. Do you
think you could sit on my horse, while we gallop over the ground?"
"Oh yes, Lily often used to sit on Uncle John's horse. I not afraid,"
she answered. "But mother, where is mother?"
"That other man will take care of her," I answered evasively. "Come, I
want to carry you to friends; I've got a little sister, who would be so
glad to see you, and so will my mother. She, I know, will take care of
you."
"Lily will go with you," she answered.
Mounting my horse, I called to Uncle Denis to place Lily in front of me
on the saddle.
"Go on, Mike," he said; "we will do as Mr Tidey proposed with the poor
lady, and follow close behind you. The sooner we rejoin the waggons the
better, for one can never tell what tricks the redskins may play us.
Tell your father that I think he had better camp as soon as he can find
a suitable spot."
I did not stop for further directions, but rode off as fast as I could
venture to go, holding Lily tightly with my right arm round her waist
before me. I very naturally, as I rode along, kept a look-out on either
side, half expecting to see a party of Indians creeping forward to cut
me off. I was thankful when I caught sight of the waggons approaching
with my father at their head. His astonishment at beholding my young
companion was very great. I stopped but for a moment to tell him what
had occurred. He ordered the waggons to halt, that I might give Lily
over to my mother. She and Kathleen uttered exclamations of surprise at
seeing the little girl, while Dio, who was on foot, ran forward and
lifted her into the waggon.
"This is my mother, Lily," I said, "and my little sister Kathleen; I am
sure they will be kind and love you very much."
"That we will," said my mother, as Lily, looking up in her face, smiled
faintly; but she had been too much frightened to speak. As I left her
in my mother's arms I whispered--
"I will tell you by-and-by how I found her, but don't ask her any
questions now, mother." I made a sign, which I think she understood, to
show her that something very dreadful had occurred.
Without stopping further, I returned to my father, to whom I gave my
uncle's message, and as we rode along I told him what had happened. We
had not got far when Mr Tidey and Uncle Denis arrived. I saw that both
my uncle and the Dominie looked unusually anxious. Just as they were
starting they had caught sight of two figures in the distance, which
they had no doubt were Indians who had been watching them; they were
convinced, moreover, that should an opportunity occur, the savages would
attack our camp.
We pushed on accordingly as fast as we could move, until we got within
about a mile of the place where the emigrants' train had been destroyed.
It was the first spot suitable for camping. Situated in a slight
hollow, four or five hundred yards wide, a deep and pretty broad stream
flowing on the north side, with a small wood or copse to the east, while
to the west and south the ground sloped upwards and then fell again down
to the scene of the catastrophe. We lost no time in unyoking the oxen
and placing the waggons in a square, taking even more than usual
precautions against an attack. As there was plenty of grass round, we
tethered both the cattle and horses close outside the waggons, while
three men were told off to keep watch on the top of the ridge, whence we
could obtain a wide view over the country. We swept it again and again
with our telescopes but could discover no persons moving in the
distance. We both saw and heard, however, the horrible wolves, who only
waited for nightfall to rush in again on the emigrants' camp.
"I don't like the thought of allowing those poor fellows to be devoured
by the brutes," said Uncle Denis. "What do you say, Tidey? Will you
accompany me, and try to bury them decently? We will go on horseback,
and by keeping a bright look-out, there will be no risk of being
surprised by the redskins, should they venture to return. I should like
especially to pay all the respect we can to that poor lady."
"With all my heart," answered the Dominie, "and if the captain agrees,
we will take Martin and Dio."
"And I'll go too," I said, "if my father will allow me."
As he did not object, we immediately mounted our horses, Uncle Denis and
the Dominie each carrying a spade, and the two men a pickaxe a-piece,
while Boxer and Toby followed at our heels. As we galloped over the
ground, we were not long in reaching the scene of the massacre. Dio,
who had the sharpest eyes amongst us, was stationed to keep a look-out,
while we, securing our horses, at once set about our melancholy task.
We selected a spot under the branches of a wide-spreading oak for the
grave of the poor lady. As the ground was soft it was soon dug. We
then carried the body to it. We were on the point of placing it in,
when the Dominie suggested that we should take off her wedding-ring and
any ornament about her, that they might be given to her daughter, and
that they might also serve to identify her, so that should we have an
opportunity we might inform her relatives and friends of her fate.
Besides the plain gold ring, was another of curious workmanship with an
amethyst set in it, while secured round her neck by a silk ribbon Uncle
Denis discovered a gold locket. Without stopping to examine it he
placed it in his pouch. In the waggon were a few articles for family
use, but we found nothing of value. No letters; no pocket-book which
might serve to tell us who she was; everything had been carried off by
the savages. Her husband, probably, was among the murdered men; and if
we could find his body, we would, we agreed, place it in the grave of
his wife.
"That's more than we are likely to do," answered Uncle Denis; "let the
poor lady rest alone."
Accordingly, lifting her up, we placed her in the narrow grave, and
although she was a stranger to me, I confess that I burst into tears as
we hurriedly threw the earth over her. Martin had in the meantime
commenced a larger grave for the men. Had they been our most intimate
friends, we should have been unable to recognise them, so fearfully had
their countenances been disfigured by the savages. The bodies too had
been partly stripped, so that there was little difference in their dress
to help us. In vain we endeavoured to ascertain which was the husband
of the poor lady, and we had no time to devote to a close examination.
We were not long in digging a shallow grave and burying the murdered men
side by side.
"We must place some logs over the poor lady's grave," said Uncle Denis,
"so that we may know it again."
Mr Tidey agreed, and all of us plying our axes, we managed to pile up a
number of logs over the spot. Three fallen trees lay near the larger
grave and these we dragged over it, so as to prevent the wolves from
disturbing the dead. Dio had in the meantime been riding backward and
forwards, shouting out whenever he saw any of the brutes approaching: he
was assisted by our two brave dogs, who kept up a constant barking,
showing that they understood the duty required of them.
The sun had already set, and as the Indians, should they have been
watching us in the distance, might creep up during the darkness, we
mounted our horses and rode back as quickly as we could to the camp. My
first inquiry was for Lily. She had been crying bitterly for her
mother, asking when she would come to her, but had at length fallen
asleep, and was now resting inside the tent in Kathleen's bed.
While seated round the camp-fire an idea came into my head, I procured a
piece of board, and with my knife commenced carving an inscription.
This I intended fixing the next morning on to the logs above the lady's
grave. It was a question whether I should have an opportunity of
erecting it. We might possibly be attacked by an overwhelming body of
Indians and have to retreat, or perchance share the fate of the
unfortunate people we had buried. As may be supposed, we kept an
anxious watch, although there was less chance of our being attacked in
the camp than while moving on, as the redskins, in spite of their
vaunted bravery, always watch for an opportunity of taking their enemies
by surprise, and finding us prepared for them, would probably keep at a
distance. Having stood my watch during the early part of the night, I
turned in and lay down with my buffalo robe by the side of Dan. I was
awakened by my father's voice arousing the camp. In an instant every
one was on foot, fires were made up, and a hurried breakfast taken. We
then caught and yoked the oxen, and in the grey of morning recommenced
our march. Uncle Denis and the Dominie, acting as scouts, rode a little
way in advance on either side, so as to avoid the risk of a surprise.
My mother kept little Lily in her arms inside the waggons, so that she
could not see the wrecked train. As we approached it Uncle Denis and I
galloped forward to the grave of the poor lady, I carrying the board on
which I had worked the previous evening. Throwing ourselves from our
horses, we nailed it to the large log placed over the head. On the
board I had carved, with the date of her death, "Lily's mother sleeps
here."