A FIELD OF MASSACRE
To my mind, seated on that island in the morass, a map spread before
me, a hundred miles of travel had not appeared a very serious matter,
but I was destined to learn my mistake. The close proximity of the men
seeking to overtake us--as evidenced by that rifle shot--awoke within
us a sense of imminent danger and drove us forward through the fast
gathering darkness at a perilous pace, especially as our mounts were
not of the best. The fringe of trees along the bank of the stream was
sufficiently thick to securely screen our movements until we had safely
merged into the darkness beyond, nor could our trail be followed before
daylight. Yet the desire was in all of our hearts to cover as much
ground as possible. The available course lay across rough country,
along steep sidehills, and into stagnant sloughs. Twice we mired
through carelessness, and several times were obliged to skirt the edge
of marshes for considerable distances, before discovering a safe
passage beyond. The night shut about us black, and discouraging, with
scarcely a star visible in the sky, by which we could determine our
direction. I was quickly lost in this blind groping, unable to even
guess the points of the compass, but Tim apparently possessed the
mysterious instinct of the pathfinder, although what dim signs guided
him I could not decipher. To me it was all chance; while he kept
steadily moving, occasionally relieving his feelings by an oath, but
never hesitating for longer than a moment.
We became mere shadows, groping through the void, barely perceptible to
our own strained eyes. Now and then we drifted apart, and were obliged
to call out so as to locate the others. We seemed to be traveling
across a deserted, noiseless land, the only sound the stumbling hoofs
of the horses, or the occasional tinkle of some near-by stream,
invisible in the darkness. Kennedy led the way, after I had confessed
my inability to do so, and, I think, must have remained afoot most of
the time, judging from the sound of his voice; advising us of the
pitfalls ahead. It was some hours before we finally emerged from this
broken land, and came forth onto a dry, rolling prairie, across which
we advanced at a somewhat swifter gait. In all this time I had never
relaxed my grip on the bridle-rein of Eloise's horse, drawing her up
close beside me, whenever the way permitted, conscious that she must
feel, even as I did, the terrible loneliness of our surroundings, and
the strain of this slow groping through the unknown. We conversed but
little, and then in whispers, and of inconsequential things--of hope
and fear, even of literature and music, of anything which would take
our minds off our present situation. I smiled afterwards to remember
the strange topics which came up between us in the midst of that gloom.
And yet, in some vague way, I comprehended that amid the silence, the
effort to converse, a bond was strengthening between us both--a bond
needing no words. It seemed to me that I could feel the beating of her
heart in response to my own; and that while to my eyes she was but a
mere outline, her features invisible, in imagination I looked into that
face again, and dreamed dreams the lips dared not express.
Surely we both understood. Even as I knew my own heart, I believed
that I knew hers. I do not think she cared then to conceal, or deny;
but, nevertheless, there existed continually between us a sinister
face, a leering, sarcastic face, with thin lips and sneering eyes
forever mocking--the hateful face of Joe Kirby. It was there before me
through all those hours, and I doubt not it mocked her with equal
persistency. Whenever I would speak, that memory locked my lips, so
that all I ventured upon was to quietly reach out my hand through the
darkness, and touch hers. Yet that was enough, for I felt her fingers
close on mine in silent welcome.
Yet, perhaps, I ought not to say that it was any memory of the gambler
which held me dumb. For it was not thought of the man, but rather of
the woman, whose honor I felt bound to guard by closed lips. Some
instinct of my own higher nature, or some voiceless message from her
personality, told me the line of safety--told me that she would
secretly resent any familiarity she was not free to welcome. She might
ride through the black night beside me, our hands clasped in
friendship, our hearts thrilling with hope. We could understand, could
dream the dream of ages together--and yet, this was not now to be
expressed in words; and there must still remain between us a barrier
blacker than the night. She needed not to tell me this truth--I felt
it; felt it in the purity of her soul, her silence, her perfect trust
in me. For this I knew, then and forever--only by respect could I win
the love of her. This knowledge was restraint enough.
We rested for an hour at midnight, on the banks of a small stream. The
sky had lightened somewhat, and we could perceive the way fairly well
when we again advanced, now traveling through a more open country, a
prairie, interspersed with groves of trees. Daylight overtook us at
the edge of a slough, which bordered a little lake, where in the gray
dawn, Tim, by a lucky shot, managed to kill a crippled duck, which
later furnished us with a meager breakfast. In the security of a
near-by cluster of trees, we ventured to build a fire, and, sitting
about it, discussed whether to remain there, or press on. It was an
ideal spot for a camp, elevated enough to afford a wide view in every
direction. No one could approach unseen, and thus far we had no
evidence that our pursuers were even on our trail. Only the crack of
that single rifle shot the evening before had suggested that we were
being followed--yet, even if this were true, the black hours since
would have prevented any discovery of the direction of our night. Not
even an Indian tracker could have picked up our trail amid that
darkness. So it was decided to remain where we were, and rest.
I need not dwell on the details of our flight. They remain in my
memory in all clearness, each scene distinct, each incident a picture
engraved on the mind. I came to believe in, implicitly rely on, all my
comrades--on the black-eyed, dusky Elsie, emotional and efficient,
whose care-free laugh was contagious, and whose marvelous skill in
cooking only increased our hunger, who knew every wild plant that grew,
and unearthed many a treasure to help out our slim larder from the
forest and prairie soil; on the solemn-faced Kennedy, whose profanity
could not be restrained, and whose sole happiness was found in an ample
supply of tobacco; who persistently saw only the dark side of things,
yet who was ever competent, tireless, and full of resource; but most of
all on Eloise, her patient, trustful eyes following my every movement,
uncomplaining, cheerful, with a smile for every hardship, a bright word
of hope for every obstacle. In the darkness of night travel, when no
eye could see her, she might droop from weariness, clinging to her
pommel to keep in the saddle, yet it was always her voice which revived
courage, and inspired new endeavor.
The way was generally rough and puzzling, bringing before us no
familiar landmarks by which to guide our course. My map proved utterly
useless, confusing me by its wrong location of streams, and its
inaccuracy in the estimation of distances. We must have wandered far
to the north from our direct course, led astray in the dark, and by our
desire to advance swiftly. For there soon came to us warning signs
that we were indeed being pursued; and some evidence also that we were
even within Indian territory. Once we beheld from an eminence the wisp
of a camp fire far in our rear, a mere misty curl of smoke showing
against the distant blue of the sky. And once, from out the shadow of
a grove, we stared perplexed across a wide valley, to where appeared a
dim outline of bluffs, and watched a party of five horsemen creep
slowly along their summit, too far away to be recognized--mere black
dots, we could not identify as either white men, or red.
But the savages had left their unmistakable mark for our finding. It
was in the early twilight of the second day, the western sky already
purple with the last fading colors, the prairie before us showing in
patches of green and brown. To our left was a thick wood, even then
grown gloomy and dark in shadows, and slightly in advance of us Kennedy
rode alone, hopeful of thus dislodging some wild animal. I could see
the gleam of the pistol in his hand, held in instant readiness, cocked
and primed. Suddenly he drew rein, and then, turning his horse's head
sharply, advanced cautiously toward the miniature forest, leaning
forward to gaze intently at something unseen from where we were. I
halted the others in a thrill of expectancy, anticipating the report of
his weapon, and hopeful of a successful shot. He halted his horse,
which pawed restlessly, and sat motionless, staring down into a little
hollow immediately in front of him; then he turned in the saddle, and
beckoned me.
"Cum over yere, Cap," he called, his voice sounding strange. "No, not
the gurls; you cum alone."
I rode forward and joined him, only to stare also, the heart within me
almost ceasing to beat, as I beheld the gruesome sight so suddenly
revealed. There, within the confines of that little hollow, almost at
the edge of the wood, lay the dead and mutilated bodies of eleven men,
in every distorted posture imaginable, some stripped naked, and showing
ghastly wounds; others fully clothed; but with the cloth hacked into
rags. It had once been a camp, the black coals of a fire still
visible, with one man lying across them, his face burnt and
unrecognizable. With the exception of one only--a mere boy, who lay at
few rods away, as though brought down in flight--the entire group were
together, almost touching each other in death. Beyond question they
had been soldiers--militia volunteers--for while there was only one
uniform among them, they all wore army belts, and a service insignia
appeared on their hats. Tim vented his feelings in a smothered oath.
"Militia, by God!" he muttered gruffly. "No guard set; the bloody
Injuns jumped 'em frum out them woods. Those poor devils never hed no
chanct. Ain't thet it, Cap?"
"No doubt of it; the whole story is there. None of them alive?"
"I reckon not--cudn't be hacked up like thet, an' most o' 'em skelped.
Them reds never left a damn gun behind neither. Why say, this affair
must a took place this yere very maunin', 'bout breakfast time."
He stood up in his stirrups, and swept his eyes anxiously about in
every direction.
"Good Lord! maybe we better be gittin' 'long out o' yere right smart.
Thar ain't nuthin' ter stay fer; we can't help them ded men none, an'
only the devil himself knows whar them Injuns hav' gone. Yer git the
gurls away afore they see whut's yere--down yonder, inter the valley."
I took one more glance at the sight, fascinated by its very horror,
then wheeled my terrified horse, and rode back. Heartless as his words
sounded, they were nevertheless true. We could be of no aid to the
dead, while upon us yet rested the duty of guarding the living. The
young negress lifted her head, and gazed at me dully, so thoroughly
tired as to be indifferent as to what had occurred; but Eloise read
instantly the message of my face.
"You have looked upon something terrible," she cried. "What was it? a
dead body?"
"Eleven dead bodies," I answered gravely, my lips trembling. "A squad
of militiamen were surprised by Indians over there, and slaughtered to
a man, apparently with no chance to even defend themselves. I have
never seen a more terrible sight."
"Indians, you say! Here?" her eyes widening in horror. "When do you
suppose this happened? how long ago?"
"Within twelve hours certainly; probably soon after dawn. The attack
must have been made while the soldiers were at breakfast."
"Then--then those Indians cannot be far away?"
"We have no means of knowing; but it will be assuredly safer for us to
get under cover. Come, both of you."
"They were all killed--all of them? You are sure?"
"Yes; it would be impossible for any among them to be alive--the bodies
were scalped, and mutilated."
I caught the rein of her horse, and Elsie, who was now wide awake, and
trembling with fear, pressed forward, close to my other side, moaning
and casting her frightened glances backward. Kennedy was already
started in advance of us on foot, leading his animal, and seeking to
discover the quickest passage to shelter. The valley below was a deep
and pleasant one, with sides forest clad, and so thickly timbered we
were almost immediately concealed the moment we began the descent. On
a narrow terrace the deputy halted us.
"I reckon maybe this yere is as gud as eny place fer ter stop," he said
rather doubtfully. "Thar ain't noboddy kin see us, nohow, an' thar's a
gud spring over yonder. It'll be mighty dark in an hour, an' then we
kin go on; only my hoss is about did up. Whut ye say, Cap?"
"We are probably as safe here as anywhere in the neighborhood. Let me
help you down, Eloise. Is that all you have to report, Tim?"
He lifted his hat, and scratched gently his thin hair.
"Only thet them Injuns went south. I done run onto their trail after
yer left--it wus plain as the nose on yer face. Thar must'r bin a slew
o' 'em, an' sum a hoss-back; they wus a strikin' straight across
yonder, an' I reckon they fetched a prisoner 'long, sumbody wearin'
boots enyhow, fer I saw the tracks in the mud."
"Poor fellow. We'll not remain here, Kennedy, only to rest for an
hour, or two. We'll not risk a fire."
"Sure not--ain't got nuthin' ter cook, enyhow." He hesitated, as
though something was on his mind, glancing toward the girls, and
lowering his voice. "I ain't so very dern tired, an' reckon I'll scout
'round a bit. Them red devils might'r overlooked a rifle er two back
thar in the timber, an' I'd sure like ter git my fingers on one."
I nodded indifferently, too completely exhausted myself to care what he
did, and then dull-eyed watched him disappear through the trees. No
one spoke, even Eloise failing to question me, as I approached where
she and Elsie had flung themselves on the short grass, although her
heavy eyes followed my movement, and she made an effort to smile.
"One can easily see by your face how tired you are," I said,
compassionately, looking kindly down at her. "I am going to sleep for
an hour or two, and you had both better do the same. Tim is going to
keep guard."
She smiled wearily at me, her head sinking back. I did not move, or
speak again; indeed I had lost consciousness almost before I touched
the ground.
I could not have slept long, for there was a glow of light still
visible in the western sky, when a strong grip on my arm aroused me,
causing me instantly to sit up. Tim stood there, a battered, old, long
rifle in his hand, and beside him a boy of eighteen, without a hat,
tousled headed, with an ugly red wound showing on one cheek.
"Mighty sorry fer ter wake ye, Cap," the deputy grinned. "This yere
young chap is one o' them sojers; an' it strikes me, he's got a damn
queer tale ter tell."