OFF TO THE NEW MINES--"GOD'S COUNTRY"--A SHOWER OF SPARKS--THE
CHEYENNE MAIDEN--SEEING IS BELIEVING--A SHARP WAIL--BEHIND THE
BRUSH--THE LEAP LIKE A WILD-CAT--THE EFFECT OF UNPALATABLE
NEWS--EVADING CROSS-QUESTIONING--THREE DAYS' FIGHTING--THE ENEMY
PREPARING FOR VICTORY--ADVICE FROM EXPERIENCE--TWO BRAVE
FELLOWS--BACON-FAT AND A KNIFE--WAITING AND HOPING.
But we were destined not to return as quietly as we had proposed doing.
Upon our arrival at Boice City, we were induced to join a company who
were going to Jordan Creek for the purpose of prospecting. It had been
made up by Jeff Stanaford and another man of the name of Jennings. After
depositing our gold-dust, therefore, with Wells, Fargo and Company, one
of whose branch-offices was in this place, we started with our new
acquaintances for the spot named, which Stanaford asserted from his own
personal knowledge, was very rich.
All told, our party numbered some twenty-seven men well armed and
provided.
When some three or four days out, we camped at noon, about four o'clock,
on a small rocky knoll, from the summit of which a deliciously clear and
cool spring was oozing. Round the rise of this knoll there was excellent
pasturage for our horses, and stretching beyond this on every side was a
level plain, broken up with small sage-brush. At night-fall, our horses
were brought in and picketed close to the spring. No suspicion of the
slightest danger was entertained by us. Indeed, we all of us slept
soundly during the first part of the night, save Jennings, who was on
the watch.
Some three hour's before dawn, however, I became restless, and my
slumbers were broken. A feeling of impending danger seemed to present
itself to me, which I was unable to shake off.
Sitting up, I looked around. The night was as dark as pitch. Nothing
could be seen by me, save the forms stretched upon the grass by the
dying embers of the camp-fire, which scarcely gave light enough to
detect them. I, however, managed to make out the figure of Jennings, who
was sitting on the ground at a little distance. He was leaning forward
upon his rifle, and was, I at once felt certain, fast asleep.
Possibly somewhat annoyed by this carelessness, I had caught up one of
the half-extinguished brands from the fire, and was about hurling it at
him, when I felt a light hand touch my shoulder.
The brand fell from my grasp as I rapidly turned, and the scattering
sparks thrown from its burning end showed me a face which, since I had
first looked on it, had never entirely passed from my memory.
How it was, my lips did not give utterance to a cry of astonishment, it
is now, as it would have been then, impossible for me to say.
There were the superbly dark eyes, whose eloquence of expression I had
never forgotten. There was that wealthy mass of raven hair, which had
crowned the head of the Cheyenne maiden, for whom I had so nearly thrust
from me the memory of the little woman I had left behind me in the East,
or "God's country," as so many of the settlers and trappers call it.
It was Clo-ke-ta.
As she moved slowly away, I rose to my feet and followed her.
I seemed to be in a dream.
All I remember is, that the sleeper near me, on my right, stirred. My
movement had startled him. He, nevertheless, did not wake.
Pausing for an instant where the horses were picketed, I once more heard
her voice.
Although in a whisper, it was riper, fuller and more womanly than when
it last sounded on my ears.
"Let my brother take his horse."
"Why should he do so?" I asked in a tone no louder than hers had been.
"My brother must have many miles between himself and this place, before
the dawn."
"And why?"
"Clo-ke-ta's master"--the intonation of this epithet was scornful, and,
as it seemed to me, full of regret, which she disdained
suppressing--"has his braves gathered around."
"Is Clo-ke-ta, then, married?"
I could not help the passionate inflexion with which I framed this
whisper. For the moment, I had not only forgotten the wife who had so
recently joined me, but the very information the Cheyenne woman had just
given me.
"The daughter of Par-a-wau could not go childless to the grave."
"Certainly not," I answered mechanically.
My memory had bridged the intervening years between the present and the
time when the parent of Clo-ke-ta, as well as Old Spotted Tail, had done
me the honor of wishing to enroll me as a Cheyenne chief.
"Will my brother do as Clo-ke-ta has bidden him?"
The impatience of the request was more like her father's manner and
voice than anything she had yet said. It recalled me to the life of my
present.
"And who is Clo-ke-ta's husband?"
"A Bannock chief."
"The Indians from whom I am then to fly are the Bannocks?"
"My brother is right."
"Does not Clo-ke-ta know that the braves with her brother are numerous."
"The Bannocks who are waiting for the dawn, number more than the leaves
of the sage-brush my brother has seen, before he laid himself down to
rest."
Figurative as the expression was, there was no mistaking its
significance. We were decidedly in for it, if her words were true, in
even the thousandth or ten-thousandth part of her somewhat extensive
style of reckoning the forces of our enemy. However, my experience of
the Indian character for veracity had greatly modified the faith which,
when I first knew her, I might have placed in her words. Considering our
former relations, it would seem to be a matter of difficulty to make her
understand this. But life in the hills and plains of the West
considerably impairs sentimental delicacy in conversation, even with one
whom a man had so narrowly escaped from wedding, as I had her. After a
brief pause, I said:
"What the white man sees, he believes."
"What says my brother?"
"Let Clo-ke-ta prove her words, to his eyes!"
"The white chief does not think Clo-ke-ta has told him the truth!"
Her whisper was shapen so contemptuously that, at the moment, I could
almost have bitten out my tongue in wrath at what it had given breath
to. However, it was of importance that I should know whether her
information had been exaggerated or not. I consequently replied:
"He does not."
Her fingers were laid upon my arm with an imperative gesture, as she
whispered in a tone where scorn and affection were curiously blended:
"Let the white chief follow Clo-ke-ta. But his feet must be as light as
the first leaf the autumn wind strews upon the plain."
As her last word fell upon my ear, she glided away from me. Nor was it
without some difficulty I kept my sight upon her undulating form, as my
steps sped noiselessly after.
We must have covered some eight hundred yards, or possibly less, when
she pointed a little to my right, in advance of the spot we had reached.
There I saw the struggling light of a small camp-fire, carefully
smothered down with the torn-up roots of sage-brush, as I concluded, and
could just make out the forms of the slumbering red-skins around it.
Still further on the right I caught the faint glow of another. To the
left, I could just make out two more; the farthest of these was so
distant, that it was no larger, although less defined, than the flash of
the fire-flies I had been accustomed to watch round my home in Galena,
even earlier than the period at which I commenced this history of my
adventures. As I turned towards her again, she said in a lower voice
even than she had previously adopted:
"My brother has sharp eyes."
"He has."
"Does he now believe what Clo-ke-ta has told him?"
[Illustration: "'Does my brother now believe what Clo-ke-ta has told
him?'"--_Page 222_.]
"Yes."
"And he will listen to her counsel?"
"He cannot."
"Why?"
"He is a white brave."
"Clo-ke-ta knows it."
"The red man might run away, by himself. Who would call him a coward?"
"His tribe would--"
She commenced thus, indignantly. Then she saw the error she was
committing, and broke short off, as I continued:
"Without those who are with him can fly too, the white brave must
remain."
A single sharp wail of grief rose from her lips. As it did so, I threw
myself upon the ground and speedily commenced crawling back as rapidly
as I could, to the camp.
Such a cry was enough to arouse every sleeping Bannock who might be
within earshot of her, and quicken them to my presence.
One glance I cast upon her, before the darkness blotted her out from my
sight. She was standing erect and motionless, and it appeared to me that
she made a gesture with one of her arms as if to quicken my movements.
There was no need for her to do so. The necessity for my reaching my
friends was too obvious. Unless I was detected, she would be safe.
Already I had covered half the distance between the place, where I had
paused with her, and our camp, when I rested for a moment. It was an
almost compulsory pause. The speed with which my retreat had been
commenced, and the position in which it had been made, had for the
moment taken away my breath. There was now also, in the darkness, no
absolute necessity for my continuing my creeping posture. I had,
therefore, half risen to my feet, when I caught the rapid sound of
Indian footsteps. A red-skin was behind me.
Remaining upon my knee, I drew my knife, and listened. There was,
evidently, only one who had disbelieved what Clo-ke-ta might have said.
Possibly, although this is very unlikely, one only may have been
awakened by her wail.
Had there been more than the one, I might have used my revolver, for the
purpose of alarming the boys. If I had done so, it must have brought out
the rest of the red devils. We had need of time for consultation. Could
I get rid of my pursuer, without giving him the chance for one dying
whoop, we should, at least, have this.
A clump of sage-brush would have hidden me from the rapidly approaching
Indian, even had the dawn been already breaking.
He could only have fancied he heard my stealthy flight, as I knew I
heard his rapidly approaching tread.
Now he was close to the sage-brush, behind which I was kneeling. An
instant after, a dark figure, relieved against the comparatively lighter
sky, is passing it. His limbs nearly touch me.
One leap, like that of a wild-cat, has fastened me upon him.
Fortunately my left hand has clutched him by the throat. He struggles
desperately, and attempts to shout. My knife was, however, ready.
In less than half a minute, all was over.
When I re-climbed the knoll, I found the boys already stirring. The
wailing cry of Clo-ke-ta had aroused Arnold, who, finding me absent, had
awakened the rest. Jennings could tell them nothing of my absence.
Brighton Bill had proposed to Harry a search for me. The latter,
however, saw that until the morning had broken, any such search must be
worse than useless.
"And here are Mose, by Heaven!" ejaculated Jennings.
He rounded off his sentence with a fearful oath of delight, as by the
light of the camp-fire, which had been heaped with fresh brush, he was
the first to recognize me. Without a word, I was trampling out the
flame, in which attempt I was assisted by Bill, who had a profound faith
in my sagacity, and would, I firmly believe, have lent me a hand in
cutting Harry Arnold's throat, had I thought proper to do so. When the
affair had been accomplished, he would probably have inquired my reason
for such a bloody proceeding, but not until then.
"What on airth! are yer about?" roared Stanaford. "Can't yer leave the
fire alone?"
"Mose must have a sufficient reason," said Arnold. "Wait 'till he tells
it to you."
"Hingins!" was Bill's suggestive explanation.
"Wall! aren't we enough for 'em?"
"Scarcely!" I answered. Then I added, as I trampled out the last burning
embers with my heel, "they are all around us."
"How many?" inquired Arnold.
"I cannot tell, yet," was my reply, given with what, could it have been
seen by him, was a grim smile. "Probably, some two hundred and fifty."
"Yer can't mean it!" exclaimed Jennings.
"Boys!" I then said, "we are in the tightest fix I have yet been in.
They are Bannocks, and the Bannocks will fight, as you all know."
"How do you know what they are?" inquired Arnold.
A flush stole over my face as I delayed to answer. Had there been
sufficient light to have detected it, I might have been exposed to an
awkward cross-questioning. However, I replied:
"By taking one of their scalps."
This was a possible reason, although by no means a probable one, save in
the case of an old Indian fighter. Nevertheless, it answered the
purpose, for the announcement that we were, as it turned out afterwards,
actually besieged by a large body of red warriors, was by no means
adapted to raise the spirits of the men who were listening. Indeed,
those of many of them dropped to zero.
Little more of the ordinary talk in a miner's camp was likely to pass
between us, during the remainder of the night. It would not, however, be
long for us to wait until the morning light verified my words. None of
us cared about attempting again to sleep. We watched impatiently until
the day broke. Then it was discovered that I had greatly under-estimated
the number of the enemy. Although unable to reckon them, precisely,
there were certainly more than five hundred red-skins waiting to raise
our hair.
When we realized our position, we saw that the contest against such
odds must be almost a hopeless one. We consequently determined upon
selling our lives as dearly as possible.
The first day passed in a succession of charges upon the knoll by the
red rascals, broken by their repulse, and intervals of rest for us,
following each separate attack. Our position was, by good luck, a
remarkably strong one, and in these intervals we succeeded in greatly
strengthening it. With our shovels and picks we tore up huge fragments
of rock, with which we built ourselves breastworks, and excavated
trenches for our own security, from which we could pick off the
advancing Bannocks, whenever they indulged themselves in a charge.
At first, it somewhat puzzled me how Clo-ke-ta had learned of my being
here. But my name, as well as those of Arnold and Brighton Bill, had
become tolerably well-known among the Indians in the section of country
around Susanville, and I at last concluded that it was known that all
three of us were with the party. If so, the reason for these
comparatively dilatory attacks was obvious. A prudent fear of exposing
themselves to our unerring aim, kept them from resolutely putting an end
to the matter.
During the whole of the ensuing night, a sharp look-out was kept up.
None of our guards, who were regularly relieved at stated intervals,
slept as Jennings had done on the preceding one.
Early on the following day, their Mahalas, or squaws, began to clear off
a piece of ground beyond the range of our rifles. It was in vain, I
attempted to recognize the form of Clo-ke-ta among them. Possibly she
did not share their labors, although it is more than probable the
distance prevented my sight from distinguishing her. While I was
watching this operation, interesting not only to me but the rest of us,
from its too evident intention, Brighton Bill said:
"Ha blamed pretty sight, hain't hit, Mose?"
"You know what it's for, then?" I could not help asking him.
"Hin course Hi do. H'it's ha kind hof theayter where the blamed Hingins
mean to torture h'us."
"If they catch us, Bill!"
"They will have hus, sooner h'or later, that's sartain."
"They had me once, Bill. But while I have a knife, they shall never have
me again."
"Hi'm blowed, Mose, hif you hare'nt right. Hi'll tell 'Ank, hand 'e and
Hi will take care we're not roasted halive, too."
"You will be doing wisely."
After the Mahalas had picked the spot which had been selected as clear
of sage-brush and rocks, as the back of a child's hand, they reared
their rude and disgusting banners around it. Their design was perfectly
clear. They intended to starve us out and take us prisoners. While we
were discussing the probabilities of this, however, one of the Bannocks
approached a little too near. It was a somewhat long shot, yet Arnold
succeeded in dropping him. This excited the rest to fury, and they
charged upon us with such a roar of whoops and yells, as seemed to be a
perfect Pandemonium. Never have I, before or since, listened to such a
devil's Babel. We shot two of them during the attack, which was
repeated, again and again, during the remainder of the day. Its result
occasionally varied. But on each attack they paid for it in something
the same ratio.
On this afternoon they received reinforcements, and on the next morning
their numbers again heavily increased. Arnold, indeed, calculated that
there must, on the third morning, have been more than twelve hundred
red-skins surrounding us.
Some discussion had on the second day taken place as to the feasibility
of our cutting our way through them. This large increase in their force
had, however, rendered such an attempt a matter of mere insanity. The
whole of that day, they kept making dashes at us. Up to this,
nevertheless, they had inflicted no damage upon our party. One result of
their tactics, had, however, caused us serious uneasiness. Our
ammunition was wasting gradually away. Moreover, our stock of provisions
was running very low. It was clear, if things continued as they now
were, we should not only find our guns useless, but might, if the
Bannocks waited long enough, be unable to raise a finger in
self-defence.
That night, it was evident to the most thick-headed amongst us, that it
would be impossible for us to hold out much longer.
Things were looking desperate. We had already been placed upon short
allowance for our stomachs. It had now become necessary to place some
restriction upon our frequency of firing at the red devils. At the
council in which we discussed our situation, two of us, named Gardiner
and Jasper, volunteered to attempt passing the Indian lines during the
night. If they were unable to procure us relief, they would at any rate
perish in the attempt to do so.
It was a gallant offer. But they were like the rest of us, men of pluck.
Had we not been so, necessity would have produced it. Nothing gives a
man so much bravery, as the knowledge that his own courage alone keeps
death at bay for a day or two longer. Their resolution was certainly
increased by this knowledge.
Suffice it, this offer was accepted.
About eleven o'clock on that night, they stripped themselves perfectly
naked, and, greasing their bodies with a portion of the bacon-fat which
chanced to be left, prepared for their task. The reason for doing this
last, was, in order to avoid their clothes catching on or being
entangled by the brush, as well as to afford a chance of their escaping
the grasp of the red devils, should their progress alarm them.
They were each armed with a sheath-knife. If caught, they had determined
upon fighting as long as they had any life left to fight with. Neither
of them would be taken captive. My experience, while in the hands of the
Pah-utes, had been detailed to them on the preceding night, by Brighton
Bill, in a full audience of the rest of our party. Nor did he narrate
it, with mitigating circumstances. As may be very readily supposed, this
had been by no means a highly consolatory recital.
It was, therefore, with a prayer for their safety from our lips, and
with small hope of it in their own thoughts, that they left us.
The words in which our farewell had been uttered, seemed like bidding a
last "good-bye" to actual brothers. Darkness had fallen heavily around
us. We were unable to pierce the dense gloom with our eyes, and could
see nothing. What was left to us but to wait and hope?