THE ATTACK ON THE CARAVAN.
ALTHOUGH great uneasiness had been caused by the reports as to the
Indians, the members of the caravan were in good spirits. So far the
journey had been a success. The difficulties met with in crossing
streams and bad bits of ground had been considerable, but were no
greater than they had looked for. The animals had preserved their health
and condition. The supply of fresh meat had been regular, and all were
in excellent health. The rise of ground had been so gradual that it had
scarcely been felt; but they were now at a considerable height above the
sea, and the brisk clear air braced their nerves, and enabled even the
feeblest to stand the fatigue without inconvenience.
One day when Frank was out alone with Dick on the north of the line of
march, they came within sight of some buffalo grazing, and Frank was
about to set spurs to his horse when his companion suddenly checked him.
"What is it?" Frank said in surprise. "They don't see us, and if we
follow that hollow we shall be able to get close to them before they can
catch sight of us."
"That's so," Dick said, "but just at present it air a question of
something more serious than bufflars, it air a question of Injins."
"Indians!" Frank exclaimed, gazing round in every direction. "Where,
Dick? I see no signs of them."
"No, and if you were to look round all day you wouldn't see 'em; they
are at your feet."
Frank looked down in surprise.
"I can see nothing," he said, after a minute examination of the ground.
"It's thar, though," Dick said, throwing himself off his horse. "Look at
this soft piece of ground; that is a hoof-print, and there is another
and another."
Frank also dismounted and examined the ground.
"Yes," he said, "I can see a number of hoof-prints now you point them
out. But how do you know that they are Indian prints?"
"Because they are unshod; besides, you see, instead of coming along in a
crowd, as a drove of turned loose horses would do, the marks are all
together, one after the other, as they came along in single file. There
is no doubt they are a party of Indians."
"They are ahead of us," Frank said.
"They were," Dick said, "but thar ain't no saying where they are now;
may be watching us."
The thought was not a comfortable one, and Frank grasped his rifle
tightly as he looked round.
"Just stay where you are," Dick said; "we are in a hollow, and I will
have a look round."
Dick made his way upon his hands and knees to the top of the brow,
choosing a spot where the shrubs grew thickest, and making his way with
such caution that Frank could scarcely keep him in sight. When he
reached the brow he raised his head and looked round in all directions
and then went on. It was nearly half an hour before he rejoined his
companion.
"They have gone straight ahead," he said. "I went over the brow, and
down the next hollow, and found their trail strong there, for the ground
is swampy; they had certainly passed within an hour of the time I got
there."
"How did you know that?" Frank asked.
"Because the water was still muddy where they had passed; it would have
settled again in an hour after being disturbed, so they could not have
been more than that time ahead. They were keeping just parallel with the
line of march of the caravan."
"How many of them do you think there were?"
"Between fifty and sixty," Dick said confidently.
"Perhaps they were merely journeying quietly along," Frank suggested.
"Not likely," Dick replied; "they must have seen these bufflars, and
would have been after them, almost to a sartinty, had they not had other
business on hand. No, I expect they were watching the caravan, and had
made up their minds to wait till nightfall, or perhaps till it came to
some place where they can get up close without being seen, and fall upon
it by surprise. We will ride back at once with the news, and put them on
their guard."
An hour's riding brought them to the caravan, where their news created a
great sensation. Hitherto the danger from Indians had appeared a remote
trouble, which might not, after all, befall them. The news that fifty or
sixty of these dreaded foes were marching along, almost within sight,
and might at any moment attack them, brought the danger close indeed.
The waggons were driven in even closer order; the women and children
were told to keep between the lines; the men distributed themselves
among the teams, ready to unyoke the oxen at the shortest notice, and to
form the waggons in order of defence. Abe and his companions had not yet
returned; but a quarter of an hour later they were seen galloping
towards the camp.
"You must keep close together and look spry," Abe shouted as he
approached; "we have come upon signs of a large body of Indians, a
hundred and fifty or two hundred strong, I reckon, out there on the
plains. They have passed along this morning, and ain't up to no good, I
expect."
"We have found signs of a smaller party, Abe, some fifty or sixty, on
our left; these were marching straight along, pretty well in the line we
are going."
"Then," Abe said, "ye had best look to yer guns, for they mean mischief;
they must have been watching us this morning when we started, but
concluded that the ground was too level, and that we should have time to
get into position before they could get up to us, besides we had all the
advantage in the stockades at the station. There ain't no station this
evening."
"Do you think they will attack us on the road?" Frank asked.
"That will depend on whether they think they can take us unawares. Get
on yer horses again. Dick, do you ride half a mile ahead of the caravan,
don't keep in the hollows, but follow the line of the brow on the right.
Young Frank and I will scout half a mile out on the right of the
caravan; Rube and Jim, you go the same distance on the left; that way
we can see them coming, and the teamsters will have plenty of time to
form up the waggons. But I don't reckon as they will attack; when they
sees as we are on the lookout they will guess we have come across their
tracks, and will see that their chances of a surprise are gone for the
day."
"Do you think they will attack us to-night?" Frank asked his companions.
"They may, and they may not. As a general thing these Plain Injins are
not fond of night attacks; it's part superstition, no doubt, and part
because they are much more at home on horseback than on foot. Still
there's never no saying with an Injin; but I should say, lad, that they
ain't likely to do that yet. They will try other ways fust. They knows
as how they have got plenty of time, and can choose their opportunity,
if it's a month hence. They are wonderful patient, are the redskins, and
time air of no account to them; but at present I think the most
dangerous times will be after we have camped and before night comes on,
and at daybreak before we makes our start."
Two more days passed quietly, and a feeling of hope pervaded the caravan
that the Indians had ridden on and sought for other prey. But Abe
assured them that they must not relax their precautions, and that the
failure of the Indians to attack was no proof whatever that they had
abandoned their intention to do so.
"An Injin is always most dangerous just when you ain't thinking of him.
You may be sure we have been watched, although we haven't seen no one,
and that seeing as we are on guard they are waiting for us to become
careless again; or it may be they have fixed upon their place of
attack, and if so, you may bet yer life it is a good one. Above all
things you men impress upon the women and children that in case of a
sudden attack they shall each take refuge at once in the waggons, in the
places allotted to them, and that they shall do it with out any
squealing or yelling; there's nothing bothers men and flurries them,
just as they have got need to be cool and steady, as the yelping of a
pack of women. Just impress on them as it does no good, and adds to the
chances of their getting their throats cut and their har raised."
The hunter's orders were very strongly impressed upon the women and
children, and even the latter were made to feel thoroughly the
importance of silence in case of an attack.
Upon the following day they came upon a spot where the trail crossed a
deep hollow; the sides were extremely steep, the bottom flat and swampy.
Rough attempts had been made by preceding travellers to reduce the
steepness of the bank, but it was in no way improved thereby; the upper
edge was indeed more gradual, but the soil cut away there, and shovelled
down, had been softened by subsequent rains, while the torn surface of
the bottom, and the deep tracks left by the wheels, showed how the teams
had struggled through it. They explored for some little distance up and
down to see if an easier point for crossing could be discovered, but
came to the conclusion that the spot at which the tracks crossed it was
the easiest, as in most places the bank had been eaten away by winter
rains and was almost perpendicular. They had reached this spot late in
the evening, and prepared to cross soon after daybreak "You will have
to fix up three teams to each waggon," Abe had said, "and take one over
at a time. We will be out early scouting--for, mind you, this is a
likely place to be attacked by the redskins; they will know there is a
bad spot here, and will guess as you will be in confusion and divided,
some on one side of the gulch, some on the other. Give particular charge
to the men to have their rifles handy, and to prepare to defend the
waggons to the last, and pass round word among the women and children
not to be scared in case of an attack, as we shall drive the Injins off
handsomely if they come."
At daybreak, Abe, Dick, and Frank crossed the gulch, the other two
hunters remaining behind.
"We must not go far from the crossing," Abe said. "We don't know which
way the tarnal critters may come, and in case of attack, all our guns
will be wanted. They will guess as we shall begin to cross the first
thing in the morning, and that it will take three or four hours to get
over. So, if they are coming, it will be in a couple of hours, so as to
catch us divided."
They took their station on a rise a few hundred yards from the crossing,
one of them riding back from time to time to see how the operation of
crossing was going on. It was one of immense difficulty. The oxen were
mired almost up to their chests, and the waggons sunk axle-deep. The
waggons stuck fast in spite of the efforts of all the men in the party.
Frank looked on for some time, and then a thought struck him.
"Look here, you will never get the waggons on in that way, the oxen
cannot pull an ounce. The best way will be to unyoke them, take them
across, and get them up on the level ground on the top; then fasten your
ropes together and hitch them to the waggon. The bullocks, on firm
ground, can easily pull it across."
The suggestion was at once acted upon. The bottom was some fifty yards
wide, and there were plenty of ropes in the waggons which had been
brought for lowering them down difficult places, and for replacing any
of the long rope traces which might be broken and worn out. Two of these
were attached to the waggon, and the oxen were taken over and up the
further side. A team was attached to each rope, and as the whip cracked
the ponderous waggon was at once set in motion, and was soon dragged
through the mud and up the incline.
"That's a capital plan of yourn, young fellow," John Little said. "I
don't know how we ever should have got across the other way, and I had
just made up my mind to give it up and move down this hollow till we
came to firmer ground."
Five more waggons were got across in the same manner. Suddenly Abe
discharged his rifle.
"What's the matter?" Frank exclaimed.
"Injins," Abe said briefly. "Them's the heads of the tarnal cusses just
coming over the line of that rise."
The spot to where he pointed was about half a mile distant, and soon
Frank perceived a number of dark objects rising above it. Almost at the
same instant the sound of a gun was heard on the other side of the
gulch.
"They are going to attack both sides at once," Abe said, as they
galloped back towards the crossing; "that shows they are strong. If they
had any doubts about licking us they would have thrown thar whole
strength on one party or the other."
On reaching the waggons they found the men there working with all their
might to get the six waggons in position, side by side across the top of
the ascent. The oxen had already been taken down into the hollow.
"That's right," Abe shouted, as they leapt from their horses and aided
in the movement. "It couldn't be better. Well and steady. You have
three or four minutes yet."
The waggons were drawn up in two lines with their wheels touching, the
inner line being on the very edge of the descent. The women and children
were placed in the inner waggons, while the eight men who had come
across with them, and the three hunters, took their places in the
outside waggons.
Almost all the men had been across with the teams when the guns were
fired, but the remainder had run back to aid in the defence of the
waggons on the other side. These were already in a position of defence,
having been so arranged before the crossing began. So well had Abe's
orders been carried out, that no confusion whatever had occurred. At the
sound of the guns the women had climbed, and helped the children, into
the waggons allotted to them, and the men, on arriving, quietly took up
their positions.
The Indians were not visible until they reached a spot about three
hundred yards from the waggons. As they dashed up the rise they checked
their horses. Instead of seeing, as they had expected, everything in
confusion and dismay, not a soul was visible, and the clumps of waggons
stood, one on either side, ranged as for defence. However, after waiting
for three days for their prey, they were not to be balked. Their wild
war-cry rose in the air, and the two bodies of horsemen charged down on
the travellers.
In an instant a deadly fire broke out, the men kneeling in the bottom of
the waggons and resting their rifles on the rail, the tilt being raised
a few inches to enable them to see under it. Every shot told among the
mass of horsemen. The emigrants were all new to Indian warfare, but most
of them were farmers accustomed from boyhood to the use of the rifle,
and the coolness of the hunters, and their preparation for attack,
steadied them, and gave them confidence. Several of the Indians fell at
the first discharge, but the advance was not checked, and at full speed
they came on.
"Steady, lads; don't throw away a shot," Abe shouted, as the men loaded
and discharged their rifles as quickly as possible; "see that every
bullet tells."
Already the Indians were checking the speed of their horses, for the
position was a most difficult one to attack. It could not be surrounded,
and, indeed, could only be attacked on the face of the outside waggons,
from which a stream of fire was pouring. As the leaders came on Frank
and the two hunters, who both, like himself, carried revolvers, laid
aside their rifles and brought these deadly weapons into action, resting
them on the rail to secure an accurate fire. The quick, sharp cracks of
these, followed in almost every case by the fall of one of the horsemen
in front, completed the dismay of the Indians. Quick as thought, those
who had fallen were lifted across the horses of their comrades, and the
whole band, turning, galloped away at full speed, pursued, as long as
they were in sight, by the rifle-balls of the defenders of the waggons.
"So much for them," Abe said, as he leapt to the ground. "Now let us
give a hand to our comrades."
The fight was still raging on the other side. The number of waggons was
larger, and the facilities for defence less. The waggons were surrounded
by a throng of Indians, who were cutting at them with their tomahawks,
discharging their rifles into the tilts, and some, having thrown
themselves from their horses, were endeavouring to climb up. The
defenders were still fighting desperately. They had no longer time to
load, but with hatchets and clubbed rifles beat down the Indians who
tried to climb the waggons. A few minutes, however, would have ended the
resistance had not help been at hand.
From the opposite side of the gulch eleven men poured the contents of
their rifles among the Indians. One of the leading chiefs and four of
his followers fell dead, and almost before the Indians had recovered
from their surprise a dropping fire was opened, almost every shot taking
effect. A cheer broke from the defenders of the waggons, and they fought
with renewed hope, while the Indians, startled by this unlooked-for
attack, and by the repulse of their comrades, began to lose heart.
Only for a few minutes longer did they continue the attack. The deadly
flank fire proved too much for their courage, and soon they too were in
full flight, carrying off with them their killed and wounded. A shout of
triumph rose from the two parties of whites, and a scene of wild delight
took place; the women, now that the excitement was over, cried and
laughed alternately in hysterical joy; the children shouted, while the
men grasped each other's hands in fervent congratulation.
"We all owe our lives to you and your comrades," John Little said to
Abe. "If it had not been for you we should all have gone under; and, I
tell you, if ever we get across these plains we will find some way to
show our gratitude. As long as John Little has a crust in the world he
will share it with you."
When the excitement had somewhat abated, the work of crossing was
recommenced, and in two hours all were over and the journey was
continued.
"Do you think the Indians will attack us again?" John Little asked Abe,
when the caravan was set in motion.
"They will, if they see a chance," Abe replied. "They have lost a lot of
men, and will get vengeance if they can. It depends partly whether thar
big chief was killed or not; if he war they may give it up now; they
sees as we are strong and well-armed. If not, thar chief will do all he
can to wipe us out, for he will be held responsible for the affair, and
such a defeat would lower his influence in the tribe."
Five days later they saw some waggons in the distance. Since the attack
the hunters had not left the caravan, as the emigrants all declared that
they would far rather go without fresh meat than have the hunters absent
from the camp. A few deer only, which had been seen from the line of
march, had been stalked and shot.
"There is a caravan halting ahead," Frank said. "We heard at the last
station that one passed ten days back. I wonder what they are halting
for. The next water, according to the distances the station-keeper gave
us, must be ten miles away."
"I don't like the look of it," Abe replied. "Travelling at about the
same rate as we do, they should still be about ten days ahead. I am very
much afraid that something has happened; those varmint we thrashed, or
some other, may have attacked them."
For another mile not a word was spoken; then they reached a spot from
which the waggons and the ground around them was clearly visible.
"I see no sign of movement," Abe said to John Little, "and thar seems to
be a lot of dark objects lying about. I will ride forward with my mates.
If, as I calculate, there has been a massacre, you had better take the
waggons a detour a mile round, so that the women and children may be
spared the sight of it. It would be enough to make them skeery for the
rest of the journey."
Abe and his comrades galloped forward.
"Have your rifles ready," the former said; "there may be some of the
varmint hiding about still, though I don't think it likely. I expect the
attack took place some days back."
On nearing the waggons their apprehensions were verified. Around lay the
carcasses of the oxen with bales and boxes broken open and rifled of
their contents. In and near the waggons were the bodies of their
defenders, mingled with those of the women and children. All had been
scalped, and the bodies were mutilated with gashes of the tomahawks. No
attempt had been made to put the waggons into any position of defence;
they still stood in a long line, as they had been travelling when the
Indians fell upon them. There were twelve waggons, and they counted
eighty bodies lying around them.
"It has been a regular surprise," Abe said, "and I expect there war very
little fighting. The Injins burst out on them, there war a wild panic, a
few shots war fired, and it war all over; that's how I read it. Hillo!
what's that?"
A deep growl was heard, and turning they saw under a bush a mastiff,
standing over the body of a child. The animal could with difficulty keep
its legs; it had been pierced by a lance, and had received a blow with a
tomahawk on the head which had nearly cut off one of its ears. It had
doubtless been left for dead, but had recovered itself, and crawled to
the side of one of the children of the family to which it belonged. Its
head was covered with matted blood, and its tongue hung out, black and
parched with thirst; but it growled savagely, its hair bristled on its
back, and it prepared to defend to the last the body of its young
master.
"Poor fellow!" Frank said, dismounting. "Poor old boy, we are friends."
At the kind tones of the voice the dog relaxed the fierceness of its
aspect, it gave a faint whine, and lay down by the child's body. Frank
took off his thick felt hat, filled it with water from the skin hanging
from his saddle, and carried it to the dog. The animal raised itself
again with an effort, and drank eagerly; when it had finished, it thrust
its great nose into Frank's hand and wagged its tail, then it returned
to the body and gave a piteous howl. The tears stood in Frank's eyes.
"Lend a hand with your knives," he said to his comrades, who were
looking on; "let us dig a grave for the child, then the dog will perhaps
follow us; it is a grand dog, and I should like to have it."
The others dismounted, and with their knives and hands they soon scraped
a hole in the earth capable of containing the body. The mastiff stood by
watching their operations. Frank doubted whether it would allow him to
touch the body of the child; but the animal seemed to comprehend his
intentions, and suffered him to raise the child and lay it in the
ground. No sooner was the grave filled up than the mastiff laid himself
down beside it. Frank now offered the animal some meat from his wallet,
and after this was eaten, bathed its head with water and brought the
edges of the wound together, and bandaged it with a strip torn from his
hunting-shirt.
"Come along, old fellow; come along with us, you can do no good here."
He mounted his horse, and the mastiff rose to its feet and stood
irresolute, and gave another piteous howl.
"Will you ride back to the caravan, Abe, and tell them there is no
danger? I will move slowly with the dog, and join them when they get
abreast of us."
The four men started at a gallop. Frank dismounted again and patted the
mastiff; then tying his handkerchief to its collar, he walked slowly
away, leading his horse. The mastiff followed at once, walking with
difficulty, for its hind-legs were almost paralysed from the
spear-wound, which had passed through its body just under the spine,
behind the ribs. It seemed, however, to feel that Frank was its master
now, and laid its great head in his hand as he walked beside it.
As Frank saw the line on which the caravan was now moving, he walked
slowly across to it and halted until the waggons came up. The mastiff
was lifted into one of them, and laid on some empty flour-sacks. Some
more water was given it, and the caravan proceeded on its way.
The terrible fate which had befallen their predecessors cast a deep
gloom over the party, who shuddered to think how narrowly they had
escaped such a fate; there was no need now to impress upon any the
necessity of avoiding straggling, and redoubled vigilance was observed
during the march.
Frank attended assiduously to the mastiff, to whom he gave the name of
Turk. The spear-wound was kept poulticed, and that in the head was
plastered. Had the dog received such wounds at any other time they would
have probably proved fatal; but on the plains wounds heal rapidly, and
the brisk air and the life of activity and exercise render man and beast
alike able to sustain serious injuries without succumbing.
In a week Turk was able to walk with the caravan; a fortnight later it
could gallop by Frank's side. They were now entering the Alkali Plains,
a wide and desolate region, where water is extremely scarce, and, when
found, brackish and bitter to the taste, and where the very shrubs are
impregnated with salt, and uneatable by most animals. In anticipation of
the hardships to be endured in crossing this region, the bullocks had
been allowed for some time a daily ration of grain in addition to the
grass they could pick up during the halt, and were therefore in good
condition.
A halt was made for three days before entering this district, and the
teams were fresh and full of work when they started. The marches across
the salt plain were long and painful to man and beast; the dust, which
rose in clouds, was so impregnated with salt that it caused an intense
irritation to the lips and nostrils.
Everything was done as far as possible to alleviate the sufferings of
the animals. Casks were filled with water at each halting-place, and
each time the oxen halted for rest their mouths and nostrils were
sponged, and a small allowance given them to drink. As they progressed
they had reason to congratulate themselves on the precautions they had
taken, for scarce a mile was passed without their coming across signs of
the misfortunes which had befallen those who had gone before, in the
shape of abandoned waggons, stores cast out to lighten the loads, and
skeletons of oxen and horses. But, on the other hand, there was now
comparatively slight danger of an Indian attack, for even the horses of
the redskins, hardy as they are, could not support the hardships of a
prolonged stay on the Alkali Plains.
[Illustration]