"He was shot, sir, leading us on against the Redskins. We brought him
in here at once to look to his hurt, and when we saw you coming we hoped
that you might have a doctor with you; but the bullet had done its work,
and he was dead before you entered the hut."
I was deeply grieved, for I knew how my father would feel the loss of my
uncle, who was, however, thus saved the pain of hearing of his son's
death.
I had no time to give way to sorrow, for the rattle of musketry showed
me that the fight was still continuing; the shouts and shrieks of the
Indians, which came from no greater distance than before, proving that
they held their ground. It was not a time for any one with a rifle in
his hand to be idle; and bidding the black remain by his master's body,
I called to the other men to accompany me, and hurried out to join my
companions. There was barely sufficient light to enable me to
distinguish them, but the cracks from their rifles showed where they
were posted. Just as I joined them, Captain Norton appeared, and
ordered us to charge the enemy, who, as we advanced, broke and, fled.
We fired, pouring in a couple of volleys, which brought down several of
the Indians, and hastened the flight of the rest. The captain then
ordered us to retire to the neighbourhood of the hut, where we could the
better defend ourselves should the enemy rally. Had we not arrived, the
whole of my uncle's party would probably have been destroyed; as it was,
several had fallen, and we lost two, besides three wounded. We could
not ascertain how many of the Indians had been killed, as their friends
had carried off most of them. Two or three bodies, however, were still
in the open, but at such a distance from our camp that it would have
been dangerous to have approached them, for some of the Redskins might
be lurking in the wood. As it was more than probable that we should be
attacked during the night, one-half of our party remained under arms,
while the rest slept with their rifles by their sides, ready for action
at a moment's notice.
I was patrolling with Tim, the moon, high above the trees, casting a
bright light over the ground where the fighting had taken place, when
Tim exclaimed,--"Arrah! sure, thin, one o' them Redskins is moving." I
looked in the direction he pointed to, and directly after saw one of the
apparently dead Indians rise to his feet and make towards the wood. At
the same instant Tim fired. The Indian dropped, and before I could stop
my companion he had rushed forward, supposing, I believed, that the man
was feigning to be shot, and might still make his escape. He quickly
came back, dragging the body after him.
"Sure he's dead enough now, anyhow; but I thought I'd bring him along to
show you who he is. See, it's Black Hawk, who killed Mr. Carlos; he's
got what he deserves for his treacherous murder."
I at once recognised the features of Black Hawk. That he could not do
us further harm was certain; and as no attempt had been made to rescue
him, we were satisfied that the enemy had retreated to a distance. Part
of the night was spent in the melancholy duty of digging graves, and
burying the bodies of my poor uncle and those who had fallen with him,
as we could not take them with us, the wounded requiring all the men who
could be spared to carry them. The Indians, we hoped, finding us too
strong for them, had retreated.
The night passed quietly away, and at early dawn we commenced our march
back to Fort King.