ON THEY COME--ORDER OF BATTLE--NUMBERS PREVAIL--READY AND PETER SAVE MY
SCALP--UNLOOKED-FOR AID--OUR WOUNDS ARE DRESSED--SHELTER ON THE VERGE OF
CIVILISATION.
The two skulls were still in view, as the shrieks of the Comanches grew
louder and louder, and the sight of these mouldering relics determined
our party to conquer or to perish in the attempt. On came the
Comanches, their mustangs at full gallop, and their gay trappings
fluttering in the breeze. Their object was, apparently, to alarm and
unnerve us before they approached. I looked round at the countenances
of my companions, to judge how far I could depend on them. Ready was
the most pugnacious, as he stood up with his front paws on a chest,
growling and snarling. There was a dogged resolution in Peter's face,
which satisfied me that he would fight to the death; while Silas Slag
and Senior Jack Lion were sufficiently cool and determined to make me
feel I could depend on them. The other men looked as if they wished
that they were anywhere else, but at the same time would stand to their
colours if their comrades did.
"Now, lads, reserve your fire till I give the word," I exclaimed. "Let
each of you select his man. Fire one after the other, not all together
on any account, and it will be hard if each of us don't hit his man.
Load again as fast as you can, and be ready for the rest who may venture
to come on."
What I said encouraged my companions, and the plan which had at that
moment suggested itself to me gave me a confidence I had not before
felt.
"Now, all steady," I cried. "You, Silas Slag, will fire first, Jack
Lion next, I will take the third and fourth shots with my double-barrel.
Peter, you follow me, Sam Noakes next, and, Paul, don't fire till your
father has shot his man."
The Indians had got within fifty yards of us, imagining that they would
make us on easy prey. I gave the word. Silas looked calmly along his
rifle. He fired, and as the smoke cleared away, an Indian was seen to
fall from his horse. Jack Lion's trigger was pulled an instant
afterwards, with the same success. I felt terribly cool; not at all as
if I was about to take the life of one or more human beings. I have
been far more flurried when a pheasant has got up close under my nose.
Two of our enemies had fallen. I fired both my barrels, and two more
mustangs were galloping away without riders. Still the Indians came on.
Peter showed that my instructions had not been thrown away on him. He
fired with steadiness, and though the Indian at whom he aimed still sat
his horse, the lance he held fell from his hand. One of our party
missed altogether, but the rest hit, if they did not kill, the Indians
they had picked out. Silas, Lion, and I had our pieces reloaded before
our enemies were upon us. With terrific shrieks they came close up to
us, when we each knocked over another of the yelping band. This was
more than they expected, and having endeavoured in vain to leap their
steeds over the barricade which protected us, they wheeled round and
galloped off to a distance.
Our party shouted with satisfaction, but we soon perceived that our foes
had not retreated. After hovering about for some time, and apparently
consulting together, they again formed a dense body and advanced at full
speed towards us. Hoping that the same plan we had before adopted would
succeed, we were waiting to fire, when the horsemen, separating, swept
round to the right and left with the evident intention of taking us in
the rear. Though there was no barricade on that side, we had the waggon
to protect us; but then our horses were exposed, and might either be
killed or carried off.
"We are in a fix, I guess," exclaimed Silas Slag; "but never say die,
lads; I have been in a worse one than this, and am still alive." This
address infused new courage into the rest of the men.
The Indians, finding that our small band was far more formidable than
they expected, had become very wary, and kept hovering around on every
side, just beyond reach of our rifles. Bound and round they swept,
making various feints, for the purpose of wearing out our courage, I
suppose. This, however, gave us time to make further preparations for
their reception.
By cutting some holes in the awning of the waggon, and replacing a few
chests and bags on one side of it, we turned it into a little fortress,
likely to prove of service against enemies on horseback, armed only with
spears and bows and arrows. Our chief cause for fear was, that some of
them might dismount, when they would be much more formidable at close
quarters. They did not, however, seem inclined to attempt such a
proceeding. Now with loud shrieks they advanced, and then wheeling
round, off they went as if in fall flight, but in another moment they
were again advancing towards us with threatening gestures. I thought
they would turn, but no; on they came from each quarter of the compass,
shouting, shrieking, and flourishing their spears. The next instant a
flight of arrows came flying among us, compelling us to sink down under
our barricade to avoid them. This was no easy matter. One grazed my
shoulder, and another went through Peter's hat, and for a moment I
thought he was wounded.
"Fire, lads!" I shouted, "steady as before." I, with two of the men,
sprang into the waggon to receive our enemies, and as they approached,
we fired in quick succession; but, very naturally, our aim was not so
steady as before, and still on they came, shrieking terrifically.
As the Indians got within thirty paces of us, without stopping the speed
of their mustangs, they for an instant dropped their lances, and
grasping their bows, let fly another shower of arrows. Then on they
came more rapidly than before. I did not look round to see who was
struck. I felt a sharp pang in my side where an arrow was quivering. I
trusted that it was not poisoned; it had come through the tilt of the
waggon. I had no time to draw it out, for the point of a red warrior's
spear was close to me. I had fired one barrel, but I had the second
loaded. I pulled the trigger. The Indian sprang forward, the spear
passed on one side, and he fell dead at my feet, while his horse,
turning aside, galloped off.
Our men had all fired, and three Indians lay dead in front of us. But
though the front rank had wheeled round, the rest were coming on with
furious gestures of vengeance. Our little band was also sadly
diminished.
For an instant, not hearing Silas Slag's voice, I turned my head. He
lay writhing on the ground, with an arrow through his breast, which he
was in vain attempting to drag out, while another man, though he still
stood at his post, seemed badly wounded with a spear-thrust in his neck.
The pain in my side was increasing so much, that I every instant
expected to drop fainting to the ground.
I got out of the waggon, for in a hand-to-hand encounter I could fight
longest in an open space. I knew that it would be destruction to yield,
so I instantly began reloading my rifle, while I shouted to my
companions to struggle to the last. They were doing their best to keep
the Indians at bay while I reloaded. Again I fired; my aim was
unsteady; and I killed the horse instead of the rider. The animal fell
directly in front of me, and served as a barricade, but the Indian,
disengaging himself, drew his scalping-knife from his girdle and sprang
towards me.
Weak, and suffering intense pain, I could do little to help myself, and
thought that my last moments had come when, just as the Redskin was
about to plunge his weapon in my breast, Ready, who had been watching by
my side, with a fierce growl flew at his throat, and compelled him to
turn the intended blow on one side, and the next moment the butt of
Peter's musket came crashing down on his head and stunned him. The rest
of the party, still able to stand up, were engaged in single combat with
the more daring of our adversaries, while other Indians were flocking
round, either thrusting at us with their spears, or with arrows in the
string, standing ready to shoot as opportunity might offer.
Now, indeed, I had lost all hope of escaping. More Indians were
galloping up, when, through a gap in their ranks, as I stood with one
foot on the dead horse, I caught sight in the distance of another body
of horsemen moving at full speed across the prairie.
Had I till now entertained even the slightest hopes of resisting our
foes, this circumstance made me feel that such hopes were vain; still
"the never-say-die principle" made me resolve to fight to the last, and
my companions, I saw, were resolved to do the same.
We were, indeed, in a desperate plight. One man was killed outright,
Silas appeared to be mortally wounded, and I expected every instant to
drop. I heard the Indians shouting to each other--I thought probably to
make short work of us. Suddenly they wheeled round and galloped off, as
I concluded, to wait till they were joined by the fresh band we saw
approaching, when they would again come on and crush us at once. Again
I loaded and fired, but it was a last effort; overcome with pain and
loss of blood, I fell fainting behind the dead horse, which had served
as a barricade.
In vain I tried to rise. I heard the men about me shouting and firing;
then there was a loud tramping of horses; the shouts grew louder. In
another instant I expected to feel my scalp whipped off my head. In
that moment I lived an age. I should have been glad to have lost all
consciousness. Had I been able to fight bravely, even against odds so
fearful, I should have been content; but to lie helpless at the mercy of
savages was terrible. I had heard of the tortures they were wont to
inflict on their captives, and I expected to have to endure some such
ordeal to try my courage.
On came the horsemen. Voices struck my ear, but they were familiar
sounds. The words were mostly English. I opened my eyes. They fell
not on Redskin savages, but on a party of white men, well aimed with
rifles and pistols, and broadswords or cutlasses.
"On after the varmint!" shouted one, who seemed to be the leader. "Some
of you lads stay by these people. Doctor, there's work for you, I
guess."
While most of the horsemen, to the number of fifty at least, galloped
after the flying Indians, some few dismounted and came within our camp.
"Why, lads, you seem to be in a bad way," observed one of them.
"I guess if you hadn't come, we shouldn't have had a scalp on the top of
our heads," was the answer. "There's the captain dead, and Silas Slag,
the next best man, no better off; for, if he isn't dead, he'll be before
many minutes are over."
"We'll see," said a stranger, whom I guessed to be a surgeon,
approaching the spot where poor Silas lay groaning with agony. "Take
your hands off the arrow, boy. You'll not get it out that way. Many a
man has lived with a worse wound than that through him. Here, some of
you, lend a hand."
I just lifted myself on my side, and saw the young surgeon engaged with
his instrument in cutting out the arrow from Silas's body. The poor
fellow groaned, but did his utmost to refrain from giving fall
expression to the agony he was undergoing.
"It will be my turn next," I thought to myself. "I must nerve myself
for the suffering I must endure."