DANGERS OF THE PRAIRIE--OUR TRAVELLERS ATTACKED BY INDIANS, AND
DELIVERED IN A REMARKABLE MANNER.
There are periods in the life of almost all men when misfortunes seem to
crowd upon them in rapid succession, when they escape from one danger
only to encounter another, and when, to use a well-known expression,
they succeed in leaping out of the frying-pan at the expense of plunging
into the fire.
So was it with our three friends upon this occasion. They were scarcely
rid of the Blackfeet, who found them too watchful to be caught napping,
when, about daybreak one morning they encountered a roving band of
Camanchee Indians, who wore such a warlike aspect that Joe deemed it
prudent to avoid them if possible.
"They don't see us yit, I guess," said Joe, as he and his companions
drove the horses into a hollow between the grassy waves of the prairie,
"any if we only can escape their sharp eyes till we're in yonder clump
o' willows, we're safe enough."
"But why don't you ride up to them, Joe," inquired Dick, "and make peace
between them and the Pale-faces, as you ha' done with other bands?"
"Because it's o' no use to risk our scalps for the chance o' makin'
peace wi' a rovin' war-party. Keep yer head down, Henri! If they git
only a sight o' the top o' yer cap, they'll be down on us like a breeze
o' _wind_."
"Hah! let dem come!" said Henri.
"They'll come without askin' yer leave," remarked Joe drily.
Notwithstanding his defiant expression, Henri had sufficient prudence to
induce him to bend his head and shoulders, and in a few minutes they
reached the shelter of the willows unseen by the savages. At least so
thought Henri, Joe was not quite sure about it, and Dick hoped for the
best.
In the course of half an hour the last of the Camanchees was seen to
hover for a second on the horizon, like a speck of black against the
sky, and then to disappear.
Immediately the three hunters bolted on their steeds and resumed their
journey; but before that evening closed they had sad evidence of the
savage nature of the band from which they had escaped. On passing the
brow of a slight eminence, Dick, who rode first, observed that Crusoe
stopped and snuffed the breeze in an anxious, inquiring manner.
"What is't, pup?" said Dick, drawing up, for he knew that his faithful
dog never gave a false alarm.
Crusoe replied by a short, uncertain bark, and then bounding forward,
disappeared behind a little wooded knoll. In another moment a long,
dismal howl floated over the plains. There was a mystery about the
dog's conduct which, coupled with his melancholy cry, struck the
travellers with a superstitious feeling of dread, as they sat looking at
each other in surprise.
"Come, let's clear it up," cried Joe Blunt, shaking the reins of his
steed, and galloping forward. A few strides brought them to the other
side of the knoll where, scattered upon the torn and bloody turf, they
discovered the scalped and mangled remains of about twenty or thirty
human beings. Their skulls had been cleft by the tomahawk, and their
breasts pierced by the scalping-knife; and from the position in which
many of them lay, it was evident that they had been slain while asleep.
Joe's brow flushed, and his lips became tightly compressed, as he
muttered between his set teeth, "Their skins are white."
A short examination sufficed to show that the men who had thus been
barbarously murdered while they slept had been a band of trappers, or
hunters; but what their errand had been, or whence they came, they could
not discover.
Everything of value had been carried off, and all the scalps had been
taken. Most of the bodies, although much mutilated, lay in a posture
that led our hunters to believe they had been killed while asleep; but
one or two were cut almost to pieces, and from the blood-bespattered and
trampled sward around, it seemed as if they had struggled long and
fiercely for life. Whether or not any of the savages had been slain, it
was impossible to tell, for if such had been the case, their comrades,
doubtless, had carried away their bodies. That they had been
slaughtered by the party of Camanchees who had been seen at daybreak,
was quite clear to Joe; but his burning desire to revenge the death of
the white men had to be stifled, as his party was so small.
Long afterwards it was discovered that this was a band of trappers who,
like those mentioned at the beginning of this volume, had set out to
avenge the death of a comrade; but God, who has retained the right of
vengeance in His own hand, saw fit to frustrate their purpose, by giving
them into the hands of the savages whom they had set forth to slay.
As it was impossible to bury so many bodies, the travellers resumed
their journey, and left them to bleach there in the wilderness; but they
rode the whole of that day almost without uttering a word. Meanwhile
the Camanchees, who had observed the trio, and had ridden away at first
for the purpose of deceiving them into the belief that they had passed
unobserved, doubled on their track, and took a long sweep in order to
keep out of sight until they could approach under the shelter of a belt
of woodland towards which the travellers now approached.
The Indians adopted this course instead of the easier method of simply
pursuing so weak a party, because the plains at this part were bordered
by a long stretch of forest into which the hunters could have plunged,
and rendered pursuit more difficult, if not almost useless. The detour
thus taken was so extensive that the shades of evening were beginning to
descend before they could put their plan into execution. The forest lay
about a mile to the right of our hunters, like some dark mainland, of
which the prairie was the sea, and the scattered clumps of wood the
islands.
"There's no lack o' game here," said Dick Varley, pointing to a herd of
buffaloes which rose at their approach, and fled away towards the wood.
"I think we'll ha' thunder soon," remarked Joe. "I never feel it
onnatteral hot like this without looking out for a plump."
"Hah! den ve better look hout for one goot tree to get b'low," suggested
Henri. "Voila!" he added, pointing with his finger towards the plain;
"dere am a lot of wild hosses."
A troop of about thirty wild horses appeared, as he spoke, on the brow
of a ridge, and advanced slowly towards them.
"Hist!" exclaimed Joe, reining up; "hold on, lads. Wild horses! my
rifle to a pop-gun there's wilder men on t'other side o' them."
"What mean you, Joe?" inquired Dick, riding close up.
"D'ye see the little lumps on the shoulder o' each horse?" said Joe.
"Them's Injun's _feet_; an' if we don't want to lose our scalps we'd
better make for the forest."
Joe proved himself to be in earnest by wheeling round and making
straight for the thick woods as fast as his horse could run. The others
followed, driving the pack-horses before them.
The effect of this sudden movement on the so-called "wild horses" was
very remarkable, and to one unacquainted with the habits of the
Camanchee Indians, must have appeared almost supernatural. In the
twinkling of an eye every steed had a rider on its back, and before the
hunters had taken five strides in the direction of the forest, the whole
band were in hot pursuit, yelling like furies.
The manner in which these Indians accomplish this feat is very singular,
and implies great activity and strength of muscle on the part of the
savages.
The Camanchees are low in stature, and usually are rather corpulent. In
their movements on foot they are heavy and ungraceful, and they are, on
the whole, a slovenly and unattractive race of men. But the instant
they mount their horses they seem to be entirely changed, and surprise
the spectator with the ease and elegance of their movements. Their
great and distinctive peculiarity as horsemen is the power they have
acquired of throwing themselves suddenly on either side of their horse's
body, and clinging on in such a way that no part of them is visible from
the other side save the foot by which they cling. In this manner they
approach their enemies at full gallop, and without rising again to the
saddle, discharge their arrows at them over their horses' backs, or even
under their necks.
This apparently magical feat is accomplished by means of a halter of
horsehair, which is passed round under the neck of the horse, and both
ends braided into the mane, on the withers, thus forming a loop which
hangs under the neck and against the breast. This being caught by the
hand, makes a sling, into which the elbow falls, taking the weight of
the body on the middle of the upper arm. Into this loop the rider drops
suddenly and fearlessly, leaving his heel to hang over the horse's back,
to steady him, and also to restore him to his seat when desired.
By this stratagem the Indians had approached on the present occasion
almost within rifle range before they were discovered, and it required
the utmost speed of the hunters' horses to enable them to avoid being
overtaken. One of the Indians, who was better mounted than his fellows,
gained on the fugitives so much that he came within arrow range, but
reserved his shaft until they were close on the margin of the wood,
when, being almost alongside of Henri, he fitted an arrow to his bow.
Henri's eye was upon him, however; letting go the line of the pack-horse
which he was leading, he threw forward his rifle, but at the same moment
the savage disappeared behind his horse, and an arrow whizzed past the
hunter's ear.
Henri fired at the horse, which dropped instantly, hurling the
astonished Camanchee upon the ground, where he lay for some time
insensible. In a few seconds pursued and pursuers entered the wood,
where both had to advance with caution, in order to avoid being swept
off by the overhanging branches of the trees.
Meanwhile the sultry heat of which Joe had formerly spoken increased
considerably, and a rumbling noise, as if of distant thunder, was heard;
but the flying hunters paid no attention to it, for the led horses gave
them so much trouble, and retarded their flight so much, that the
Indians were gradually and visibly gaining on them.
"We'll ha' to let the packs go," said Joe, somewhat bitterly, as he
looked over his shoulder. "Our scalps 'll pay for't if we don't."
Henri uttered a peculiar and significant _hiss_ between his teeth, as he
said, "P'raps ve better stop and fight!"
Dick said nothing, being resolved to do exactly what Joe Blunt bid him;
and Crusoe, for reasons best known to himself, also said nothing, but
bounded along beside his master's horse, casting an occasional glance
upwards to catch any signal that might be given.
They had passed over a considerable space of ground, and were forcing
their way, at the imminent hazard of their necks, through a
densely-clothed part of the wood, when the sound above referred to
increased, attracting the attention of both parties. In a few seconds
the air was filled with a steady and continuous rumbling sound, like the
noise of a distant cataract. Pursuers and fugitives drew rein
instinctively, and came to a dead stand, while the rumbling increased to
a roar, and evidently approached them rapidly, though as yet nothing to
cause it could be seen, except that there was a dense, dark cloud
overspreading the sky to the southward. The air was oppressively still
and hot.
"What can't be?" inquired Dick, looking at Joe, who was gazing with an
expression of wonder, not unmixed with concern, at the southern sky.
"Dunno, boy. I've bin more in the woods than in the clearin' in my day,
but I niver heerd the likes o' that."
"It am like t'ondre," said Henri; "mais it nevair do stop."
This was true. The sound was similar to continuous, uninterrupted
thunder. On it came with a magnificent roar that shook the very earth,
and revealed itself at last in the shape of a mighty whirlwind. In a
moment the distant woods bent before it, and fell like grass before the
scythe. It was a whirling hurricane, accompanied by a deluge of rain
such as none of the party had ever before witnessed. Steadily,
fiercely, irresistibly, it bore down upon them, while the crash of
falling, snapping, and uprooting trees mingled with the dire artillery
of that sweeping storm like the musketry on a battle-field.
"Follow me, lads!" shouted Joe, turning his horse and dashing at full
speed towards a rocky eminence that offered shelter. But shelter was
not needed. The storm was clearly defined. Its limits were as
distinctly marked by its Creator as if it had been a living intelligence
sent forth to put a belt of desolation round the world; and, although
the edge of devastation was not five hundred yards from the rock behind
which the hunters were stationed, only a few drops of ice-cold rain fell
upon them.
It passed directly between the Camanchee Indians and their intended
victims, placing between them a barrier which it would have taken days
to cut through. The storm blew for an hour, then it travelled onward in
its might, and was lost in distance. Whence it came and whither it went
none could tell; but, far as the eye could see on either hand, an avenue
a quarter of a mile wide was cut through the forest. It had levelled
everything with the dust; the very grass was beaten flat, the trees were
torn, shivered, snapped across, and crushed; and the earth itself in
many places was ploughed up and furrowed with deep scars. The chaos was
indescribable, and it is probable that centuries will not quite
obliterate the work of that single hour.
While it lasted, Joe and his comrades remained speechless and
awe-stricken. When it passed, no Indians were to be seen. So our
hunters remounted their steeds, and, with feelings of gratitude to God
for having delivered them alike from savage foes and from the
destructive power of the whirlwind, resumed their journey towards the
Mustang Valley.