Tuesday, June 13.
Cash, Neelie and I created quite a sensation this morning. We waited,
after the train had started, to mount our ponies as we usually do. Cash
and I had mounted, but Neelie led her pony, and we went down to the
river to water them, Neelie found some beautiful wild flowers, and she
insisted upon gathering them. Of course we waited for her. The train
was winding round a bend in the road, and the last wagons would soon be
out of sight. We insisted that she must come. “The train will be out of
sight in five minutes, and we may be cut off by savages in ambush.”
She did not scare worth a cent. She led her pony into a little hollow
to mount when we saw two men coming toward us as fast as they could
ride. Cash rode at an easy canter to meet them, while I waited for
Neelie, who was deliberately arranging her flowers so that she would
not crush them.
“Those men are coming after us, perhaps there are Indians around.” She
took her time, just the same.
When the captain saw that the train would soon be out of our sight, he
went to Mr. Morrison, who was on horseback, and said, “Ride quietly
back and warn those girls of their danger, there are Indians around.
They have been seen by the guard, on the island, and by the herders,
in the hollows of the bluffs this morning. They would not be safe one
minute after the train is out of sight.”
They had kept it quiet, as they did not wish to cause unnecessary
alarm, for they knew there was no danger, for the Indians knew they
were being watched, and besides we are too many for them. Mr. Morrison
started, but not quietly; he snatched off his hat, whipping his horse
with it, passed Mr. Kerfoot’s wagon as fast as his horse could go. Mr.
Kerfoot asked, “What is the matter?” Some one said, “Indians!”
He wound the lines round the brake-handle, leaped from his high seat on
the front of the wagon, grabbed the first horse in reach, snatched Mr.
Gatewood’s boy out of the saddle, jumped on the horse and came tearing
toward us, lashing the horse with his long whip--his hat flew off soon
after he started, but he did not know it. He passed Mr. Morrison, and
meeting Cash, he stopped long enough to bring his whip over her horse’s
haunches with all his might, and sent her flying toward the train. He
next met me--for I started, when I saw them coming, and was perhaps a
hundreds yards ahead of Neelie--and stopped and said, “Miss Sallie, do
you know that we are in the very worst Indian country there is on this
road?”
He did not wait for a reply, but went on to Neelie, who was looking
all about to see the Indians. He gave her pony a cut with his whip,
as he had Cash’s, and we went flying over the ground, Neelie’s merry
laughter pealing forth. Mr. Kerfoot did not speak to either of us.
Mr. Morrison had turned back with Cash, and scolded all the way, she
said he stuttered and stuttered, until she had hard work to keep from
laughing. The captain had stopped the train, and we were greeted with
loud cheering and hurrahs.
There was considerable joking about our being anxious for an adventure,
and the young men were profuse in their declarations about what
they would have done if we had been captured by the Indians. Every
one laughed about our “narrow escape,” as they called it, except Mr.
Kerfoot; he was pale and trembling. It is a shame that he should have
been so unnecessarily frightened by our thoughtlessness, and I believe
he thinks it was my fault. I wonder what he would have thought if I had
left Neelie to come alone?
* * * * *
Wednesday, June 14.
One of the men found the skull of a human being to-day while we were
stopping at noon. It seems horrible to think of one’s bones being
scattered about in such manner. There is a storm coming; a storm on the
plains is something to be dreaded, especially a wind-storm. Old men
who have been freighting across the plains for years, say they have
seen wagons upset with three tons of freight in a wind-storm. I am more
afraid of a wind-storm than of Indians. The boys say I am not afraid
of Indians at all.
* * * * *
Thursday, June 15.
The storm came with great violence last evening; we saw it coming in
time to be prepared for it, so there was no damage done. The rain came
down in torrents, and made the roads as hard and smooth as a floor, not
any mud. It has been fine for horseback riding, everything seems so
fresh and clean and pure, and not too warm. Mr. Milt Walker joined us
about an hour before camping time. He seems a very pleasant gentleman.
* * * * *
Friday, June 16.
We had a storm last night, much more terrific than the night of the
14th, yet there was no harm done, more than to frighten some of the
women and children. For my part I enjoyed the coming of the storm
exceedingly. I never witnessed a storm-scene so sublimely grand.
Oh, for the pen of an artist, that I might picture the majesty and
grandeur of the coming of that storm.