A MIDNIGHT RIDE
“What’s the matter, Bob?” exclaimed Joseph as he spied his brother and
Deerfoot hastening in his direction.
“Everything’s the matter,” cried Robert. “The Indians are attacking us
for all they are worth and we’ll be surrounded unless we get out of here
pretty quick.”
“Get the ponies and I’m ready,” said Joseph eagerly.
Deerfoot and Robert hastened to obey and in a very short time returned.
Each one rode his own pony and Robert led The Swallow, holding the reins
with his left hand. He quickly dismounted and Deerfoot did the same.
“Now,” cried Robert cheerily, “just let us get hold of you, Joe, and
you’ll be in your saddle before you know it.”
“Don’t worry about me,” exclaimed Joseph. “I’m almost as good as I ever
was.”
“That’s the way to talk,” said Robert heartily. “Are you all ready now?”
“All ready.”
Deerfoot and Robert soon lifted Joseph into the saddle, where he seemed
to be more at ease than he had been on the ground. His two friends
watched him anxiously.
“Think you can stand it?” inquired Robert.
“I know I can.”
“Then we go,” exclaimed Deerfoot, and a moment later they were cantering
swiftly toward the open prairie.
“Where are we going?” demanded Joseph.
“We go back to Dixon’s,” said Deerfoot.
“Who said to do that?” exclaimed Robert in surprise. “I haven’t heard of
anything like that.”
“Walt say go there,” explained Deerfoot.
“What about our dispatches?” demanded Joseph.
“He say band split. One half go Fort Armstrong. One half go Dixon’s. We
go Dixon’s.”
“You’re sure about that, are you?” inquired Robert earnestly.
“Me sure,” said Deerfoot confidently.
“What do you suppose his idea is?” Robert asked of his brother. He
always had the feeling that Joseph would know the reason for almost
anything. He had a great amount of confidence in his level-headed older
brother.
“I don’t know,” said Joseph doubtfully. “Perhaps he thinks that the
smaller the band the less chance there is of discovery. If we split in
two we may throw the Indians off the trail.”
“That’s true,” agreed Robert. “I suppose that was Walt’s idea, too.”
“How many of us are there anyway?” asked Joseph. “We started out with
ten. Have we lost any men?”
“We certainly have. There are only six left now.”
“What!” exclaimed Joseph. “You mean to say that four men were killed?”
“Indeed they were,” said Robert sadly. “There are four men back there in
those woods who’ll never do any more Indian fighting.”
“How about John Mason?” demanded Joseph. “Don’t tell me he was killed.”
“He was all right a few moments ago.”
“I hope nothing happens to him,” said Joseph earnestly. “He’s too fine a
man to lose.”
At this moment they emerged from the swamp onto the prairie. Night had
fallen and the full moon was just appearing over the rim of the horizon.
The three fugitives were thus assured of some light to guide them on
their long ride. Well it was too, for at present it was not safe to
halt. The opinion seemed to be that their foes would not attempt any
pursuit, but of this they could not be sure. Their one idea was to put
as much distance between them and their enemies as the condition of
Joseph’s wound would permit. Thus far he was bearing up splendidly, but
he was weak and could not be counted on for too great an exertion.
In silence they rode most of the time. Hour after hour passed and mile
after mile was covered. The hardy ponies seemed tireless and with
apparent ease maintained their steady gait across the plains. A halt was
called about midnight so that men and horses might have a breathing
spell, but after a short rest the journey was resumed. Not a sign of the
enemy had they seen, but there was always the danger of encountering
roving bands and the three fugitives were all intent upon reaching
Dixon’s Ferry at the earliest possible moment.
As the first faint streaks of dawn appeared over the expanse of prairie
the little settlement on the Rock River came into view. The sight
spurred the tired travelers on and in a short time they were once more
in the town and safe again. Safe at least until they should start out on
their next expedition.
“Well, Joe,” exclaimed Robert, as he and Deerfoot lifted the wounded
young volunteer from the back of The Swallow. “How do you feel after
your ride?”
“All right,” said Joseph and promptly fainted. He had suffered much pain
all through the long, hard night and had kept up on nerve alone. Now
that the journey was ended he could resist no longer, but gave up
entirely.
Robert and Deerfoot laid him tenderly upon the ground. “You stay here,
Deerfoot,” exclaimed Robert, “and I’ll go and see about having Joe
looked after in the hospital here.”
He hastened away and soon returned to say that all arrangements had been
made to receive his brother in the hospital. In a short space of time
Joseph was transferred to the house which temporarily served for that
purpose. When Robert and Deerfoot were convinced that all arrangements
had been made for his comfort, they left him there and sought their own
quarters.
Dixon’s Ferry now presented a forlorn appearance. General Atkinson with
the army had moved on up the Rock River, leaving Major Stillman’s corps
at Dixon’s Ferry to care for the wounded and to guard the supplies. No
sooner had Atkinson left, however, than practically every man in
Stillman’s corps deserted and returned to his home. Disgracefully
defeated, they now added further disgrace to their cowardly record by
quitting their post.
The settlement was deserted except for a few of the men who had enough
pride and patriotism to stick to their duty. All the supplies for the
armies of Generals Atkinson and Whiteside were thus left practically
unguarded. They were at the mercy of Black Hawk, should he choose to
attack in force.
Robert was indignant and so was everyone else who remained. This did not
bring the men back, however. Panic seemed to have seized the whole
country. Black Hawk’s victory at Sycamore Creek had inspired the whole
region with terror. Settlers fled from their homes, in many cases
leaving all their valuables behind them. Sometimes even worse things
than that happened. If they had not been so tragic they might have been
amusing, as the following story, told to Robert by one of the men,
illustrates.
There was one family that lived near the Iroquois River in the
northeastern part of Illinois. They owned no horses, but had a large
family of small children, eleven in all. In the course of their flight
it was necessary for them to cross the river. Coming to the bank they
found it was impossible for the small children to cross unaided. The
stream was high and rapid, so that the father had to carry the little
ones over one at a time. Trip after trip he made until he had them all
across, as he thought. They were about to continue their flight when a
cry from the opposite bank arrested their attention.
Standing on the bank of the stream and crying piteously was little
Susan, just four years old. In the excitement she had been overlooked.
The father at once plunged into the stream again to rescue his child,
when the mother, seeing it, cried out, “Never mind Susan; we have
succeeded in getting ten over, which is more than we expected at
first—and we can better spare Susan than you, my dear.” So poor little
Susan was abandoned by her panic-stricken family and left to the mercy
of the savages. No harm came to her, however, for one of the neighbors
out hunting found her and took charge of her. Thus the poor child’s life
was saved, though not through any help from her family who had treated
her so shabbily.
This was a sample of the conditions existing on the border at that time,
however. The settlers were in a constant state of panic. The rustle of a
wild animal in the underbrush; the howl of a wolf in the prairie; the
fall of a forest bough were enough to blanch the cheeks of the bravest
men.
“It makes me so mad!” exclaimed Robert hotly. “The women and children
can lose their nerve if they want, but when the men do, too, there is no
excuse for them.”
He was sitting beside Joseph’s cot in the hospital the next day after
their arrival, and was giving full vent to his feelings.
“I know it,” replied Joseph. “It isn’t right at all.”
“Isn’t right!” exclaimed Robert. “Well, I should say not! Even the
troops are losing heart. A fine bunch of cowards we enlisted with, I
should say.”
“There is no use in getting so excited about it, Bob,” said Joseph
quietly.
“Yes, there is too. It does me good to say what I think, anyway.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” laughed Joseph. “At any rate you and I are going
to do our duty, no matter what the others may do.”
“We certainly are,” cried Robert. “Deerfoot will stand by us, too.”
“Of course he will. What does he think about things anyway?”
“How do I know? Did you ever hear Deerfoot say what he thought about
anything like this? I never did myself.”
“Nor I,” agreed Joseph. “He doesn’t express himself very freely, does
he?”
“He certainly does not,” Robert agreed. “He not only doesn’t express his
opinion, but he doesn’t say anything at all. You know how I like to
talk, and it gets on my nerves to talk and talk to Deerfoot and have him
grunt and grunt and once in a while say yes or no.”
“You mustn’t mind that,” laughed Joseph. “That is only his way and you
know what a good friend of ours he really is.”
“Certainly I do. Just at present, though, I don’t feel like sitting
around and doing nothing. There isn’t even anyone to talk to hardly and
I want to talk at least.”
“We’ll have lots to do in a little while, I guess,” said Joseph. “This
war isn’t over by any means yet and just as quick as my leg is better we
can look around and find something.”
“When are you going to be well?”
“I don’t know,” replied Joseph. “The doctor said in less than two weeks
anyway, and probably before then. If anything very important happens
before that time you can be sure that I’ll be in it, wound or no wound.”
“You’ll be all right soon, I guess,” said Robert cheerily. “I hope so
anyway. General Atkinson is chasing Black Hawk up the Rock and you and I
don’t want to miss any of the fun.”
“We won’t miss any; don’t worry about that. When Black Hawk gets into
those swamps up at the head of the Rock River near the lakes, you can be
sure it will take more than two weeks to drive him out. We’ll see all
the ‘fun’ we want, all right.”
“I hope so,” exclaimed Robert earnestly. “And now I must leave,” he
added as he rose to go. “Good-bye, Joe. I’ll come in again soon.”
“Good-bye, Bob,” said Joseph. “If Deerfoot talks too much, tell me and
I’ll ask him to stop.”
“I only wish he’d start,” laughed Robert, as he left his brother’s room
and made his way back to the tent which he and Deerfoot shared.