The horsemen who had forged ahead, for a while, hindered me from seeing
the enemy. The Utahs had halted, and were discharging their guns. The
smoke from their shots shrouded both allies and enemies; but, from the
fact of a halt having been made, I presumed the Arapahoes were making
stand by the butte. It was not so. After the first round of shots, the
firing ceased; and the Utahs again went charging onward.
The Arapahoes had given way, and were fleeing down the valley. There
they must meet Wa-ka-ra. And this or something like it, was their
intention. With the four divisions closing upon them from all sides at
once, they saw there was no chance of saving themselves--except by
making a desperate charge on some one singly, in the hope of causing it
to yield, and thus open for them a way of escape. They had no
difficulty in making choice of which they should meet. The band of
Wa-ka-ra was between them and their own country. It was the direction
in which they must ultimately retreat; and this decided them to take
down the valley.
A slight swell in the plain, which we were at that moment crossing, gave
me a view of the retreating Arapahoes. In the distance, I could see the
band of Wa-ka-ra advancing towards them at full speed. In a few seconds
would meet in shivering charge these mortal foes.
The Utahs of our party were urging their horses to utmost speed.
Well-mounted as were myself and companions, we were unable to overtake
them. Those that came from right and left had suddenly swerved from
their course; and in two converging lines were sweeping down the valley
to the assistance of their chief. We passed close under the edge of the
butte. In the excitement of the chase, I had almost forgotten to look
up--when a shrill shout recalled to my memory the captive on the cross.
The cry came from the summit--from Sure-shot himself. Thank Heaven! he
lived!
"Hooza! hoozay!" shouted the voice. "Heaving speed yees, whos'ever ye
be! Hooza! hoozay! Arter the verming, an' gie 'em goss! Sculp every
mother's son o' 'em. Hooza! hoozay!"
There was no time to make reply to these cries of encouragement. Enough
to know that it was our old comrade who gave utterance to them. It
proved he was still living; and, echoing his exulting shout, we galloped
onward.
It was a fearful sight to behold the two dark bands as they dashed
forward upon one another--like opposing waves of the angry ocean.
Through the horsemen in front of me, I could see the meeting, and hear
the shock. It was accompanied by wild yells--by voices heard in loud
taunting tones--by the rattling of shields, the crashing collision of
spear-shafts, and the sharp detonations of rifles. The band of Wa-ka-ra
recoiled for a moment. It was by far the weakest; and had it been left
to itself, would have sustained defeat in this terrible encounter. But
the Utahs were armed both with rifles and pistols; and the latter,
playing upon the ranks of the Arapahoes, were fast thinning them. Dusky
warriors were seen dropping from their horses; while the terrified
animals went galloping over the field--their wild neighs adding to the
uproar of the fight. There was but one charge--a short but terrible
conflict--and then the fight was over. It became transformed, almost in
an instant, to a disorderly flight. When the hot skurry had ended, the
remnant of the prairie-horsemen was seen heading down the valley,
followed by the four bands of the Utahs--who had now closed together.
Pressing onward in the pursuit, they still vociferated their wild _Ugh!
aloo_!--firing shots at intervals, as they rode within reach of their
flying foemen.
Neither Wingrove nor I had an opportunity of taking part in the affray.
It was over before we could ride up; and, indeed, had it been otherwise,
neither of us could have been of much service to our allies. Painted as
both were, and in full war-costume--in other words, naked to the
breech-clout--we could not have distinguished friends from foes! It was
partly this consideration that had occasioned us to halt. We drew up on
the ground where the collision had occurred with the band of Wa-ka-ra.
We looked upon a spectacle that might at any other time have horrified
us. A hundred bodies lay over the sward, all dead. There were Utahs as
well as Arapahoes; but, though we could not distinguish the warriors of
the two tribes in the confusion of the fight, there was no difficulty in
identifying their dead. There was a signal difference in the aspect of
the slain Indians. Around the skulls of the Utahs, the thick black
tresses were still clustering; while upon the heads of the Arapahoes
there was neither hair nor skin. Every one of them had been already
scalped. Wounded men were sitting up, or propped against dead bodies--
each with two or three comrades bending over him. Horses were galloping
around, their lazos trailing at will; while weapons of every kind--
spears, shields, bows, quivers, and arrows--were strewed over the sward.
A group of about a dozen men appeared at some distance, clustered around
a particular object. It was the dead body of a man--a chief, no doubt?
Not without feelings of apprehension did I approach the spot. It might
be the noble Wa-ka-ra? I rode up, and looked over the shoulders of
those who encircled the corpse. A glance was sufficient to put an end
to my apprehensions. The body was covered with blood, and pierced with
many wounds. It was frightfully mutilated; but I was able to identify
the features as those of Red-Hand, the chief of the Arapahoes! Scarred
and gashed though it was, I could still trace those sinister lines that
in life had rendered that face so terrible to behold. It was even more
hideous in death; but the Utahs who stood around no longer regarded it
with fear. The terror, which their dread foeman had oft inspired within
them, was now being retaliated in the mockery of his mutilated remains!
The Mexican had ascertained that Wa-ka-ra was still unhurt, and heading
the pursuit. Having myself no further interest in the scene, I turned
away from it; and, with Wingrove by my side, rode back towards the
butte.