KELLOGG’S GROVE
As they rode up to the fort the first person to greet them was Walt. He
had seen them coming a long way off and hastened out to meet his four
friends. He was delighted to see them again and showed his pleasure
plainly.
“You’re just in time to see some fun, I think,” he remarked after a few
moments had elapsed and the travelers had dismounted from their ponies.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Robert eagerly. He at once scented action
and was enthusiastic at the prospect.
“Two men came in just a few minutes ago and reported that they had seen
some Indians about four or five miles from here.”
“Are we going after them?” demanded Robert.
“I can’t say as to that,” replied Walt. “You’ll have to ask Major
Dement.”
“You said you were hungry a little while ago, Bob,” Joseph reminded his
brother.
“I know, but I’ve forgotten about that. When there is a chance of a
fight I never feel like eating.”
“We’d better get something just the same,” said John Mason. “No man can
fight on an empty stomach. Ask any general and he’ll tell you that.”
“You can get food right inside here,” said Walt. “Follow me and I’ll fix
you up.”
No second invitation was needed and the four scouts had soon disposed of
a hearty meal. Walt had left them to eat by themselves but just as they
were finishing he came hurrying up with an air of satisfaction to the
place where they were seated.
“If you are looking for a fight you can find one now,” he exclaimed to
Robert.
“I’m ready,” cried Robert, immediately rising to his feet. “Where is
it?”
“Major Dement is calling for twenty-five volunteers to go out and
reconnoiter. Do you want to go?”
“Of course I do,” said Robert instantly. “Where is Major Dement?”
“Over there,” replied Walt, pointing to a man who was standing in the
midst of a group of soldiers.
“I’m with you, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph, and he, too, started forward.
“Me go,” said Deerfoot quickly and he followed Joseph.
“It looks as though I’d have to go or be left alone,” laughed Mason.
“How about you, Walt?”
“I’ve already volunteered and been accepted.”
Before many minutes had elapsed John Mason, Deerfoot, and the two young
brothers had also been accepted as members of the party. The little band
soon sallied forth from the blockhouse and started across the prairie.
Joseph noticed that among the twenty-five men who had volunteered there
was a large proportion of officers. He called Walt’s attention to this
fact.
“I noticed it, too,” said Walt. “I don’t think it is right, either.”
“Nor I,” exclaimed Joseph. “Major Dement isn’t with us but there are
mighty few officers left in the fort. I’m afraid that if anything
serious happens, there may be trouble. The men aren’t well drilled, and,
without enough officers, I’m afraid they may become disorganized if they
are left back there practically to themselves.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Walt earnestly. “The militia has acquired a
pretty bad reputation so far, but these men look like better fighters
than the ones Major Stillman had at Sycamore Creek.”
“They couldn’t be worse any way,” exclaimed Joseph disgustedly.
Walt and Joseph were riding in the rear rank of the party. They were
scarcely out of sight of their camp now, but a sudden yell warned them
that already the enemy had been discovered. Far out on the prairies
appeared a small grove and between this and the fort were three Indians
riding backward and forward.
The reconnoitering party started after them at full speed and were soon
strung out in a long line across the prairie. The three Indians
immediately upon sighting the white men, turned and rode for the grove
as fast as their horses could carry them. Joseph had started from the
rear but thanks to the speed of The Swallow was soon up with the
leaders. Robert had been in the van from the start and Deerfoot and
Mason were with him.
In the meantime Major Dement had been observing his party of scouts from
a vantage point he occupied near the fort. He saw all that was happening
and he immediately suspected a trick. The three Indians were racing
straight for the grove and he feared that concealed there were
reinforcements, who were merely waiting for the little band to ride into
the trap set for them. The Major at once jumped upon his horse and with
a small portion of his men set out to overtake the scouts and warn them
of their danger.
He was well mounted and before a great distance had been covered was
able to come up with the hindermost members of the band. Several men,
however, were so far in advance in their mad pursuit of the Indians that
he was unable to reach them in time. Among this number were Robert,
Joseph, Deerfoot and Walt. The calls and shouts of their comrades did
not reach their ears and on they raced. The fleeing Indians were making
for the grove some three miles distant, hotly pursued by the Major’s
men.
When they were a little less than a half-mile from the grove Major
Dement dismounted his men and formed them in a line. Seven or eight were
still in advance, however, intent only upon overtaking the Indians.
Joseph now led the pursuit, with Walt close behind him. Then came four
men who were of Major Dement’s original command and bringing up the rear
rode Robert and Deerfoot. The last two mentioned were in that position
solely on account of the speed of their horses. Certainly Robert would
have led the party if he had had his wish.
Nearer and nearer to the grove they came. On they kept without the least
suspicion of the danger to which they were exposing themselves. Major
Dement had drawn up the men who had dismounted on a little ridge, and
with intense anxiety they watched their comrades approach the grove.
Suddenly it happened as the Major had feared. From out the shelter of
the grove poured the Indians. They were all mounted, stripped to their
waists and painted for battle. A galling fire poured from their guns and
two of the white men fell to the ground lifeless. One of these two was
Walt. The bullet had entered his temple and one glance was sufficient to
assure Joseph that his companion was dead.
He turned and fled, and with him fled the five remaining members of the
daring little company. A volley from the men on the ridge killed two or
three of the Indians, but the rest came on at undiminished speed. As
they reached the bodies of the two dead soldiers a large number
surrounded them, clubbing and stabbing the lifeless remains. By the time
that Joseph and his five companions reached the ridge where their
comrades were drawn up in line the red men were close upon them and upon
both flanks.
The Indians had sallied forth with terrific yells which had been heard
by the soldiers remaining at the fort. This portion of the battalion had
been ordered to hold themselves in readiness for any emergency, but at
the sound of the guns and the war whoops they mounted their horses and
started to the rescue of their companions. Coming nearer, however, they
met Major Dement and his men fleeing in hot haste, and upon seeing the
number of the Indians they, too, turned and retreated toward the fort.
A mad race ensued in which the Whites were victors by a narrow margin.
They were first to reach the blockhouse, however, and springing from
their horses they quickly occupied the defenses. It was necessary to
leave their mounts outside and the horses were huddled together around a
work bench on the least exposed side of the fort. The best marksmen
immediately took their places at the portholes.
An ominous stillness filled the air. In large force the Indians swarmed
around the blockhouse. They kept under cover as far as possible,
however, and seemed to be planning the best method of attack. All at
once the sharp crack of a rifle broke the silence and proved that
someone of the white men had located the enemy. Straightway the firing
became general.
“Let ’em have it, Joe!” exclaimed Robert hotly. “We’ve got Walt to pay
them back for now, too.”
“I’ll let ’em have it all right,” replied Joseph grimly. He carefully
sighted his rifle and fired. An Indian some two hundred yards away who
had been so careless as to expose his head for an instant, suddenly let
his gun drop limply from his hands and sank to the ground.
“I got one,” said Joseph casually.
“Good for you!” cried Robert exultantly. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Me get one, too,” remarked Deerfoot. He was busily engaged in loading
his gun for another shot at his ancient enemies.
“I hope we all get one,” exclaimed Robert. “At least I hope we all get
at least one.” He bent to his task again and no further conversation was
held for some time.
The little garrison kept up a hot fire. No Indians dared venture too
close to the fort and after about an hour had elapsed they turned their
attention to the horses. Robert, whose porthole commanded a view of the
spot where the animals were huddled, was the first to observe this move.
“They’re shooting at the horses,” he exclaimed suddenly.
“What!” cried Joseph in alarm.
“They’re shooting at the horses,” repeated Robert. “I suppose they are
beginning to find out that they can’t hurt us here in the fort.”
“But The Swallow!” protested Joseph. “Suppose they kill him. Can you see
him from there?”
“Yes,” said Robert, peering out cautiously. “He’s almost in the center
of the bunch and my horse is right next to him. I can see John Mason’s
horse, too, but I don’t see Deerfoot’s anywhere.”
“Let me look,” begged Joseph. The thought of harm coming to The Swallow
cast a sudden gloom over the young volunteer. He almost forgot his own
danger in the thought that he might lose his wonderful pony. He was
prouder of The Swallow than of anything else in his possession and the
thought of being deprived of his prize was almost more than he could
bear.
“He is right in the middle there,” he observed after a hasty glance. As
he looked, however, a bullet struck a tall sorrel horse stationed on the
edge of the group and with a scream of pain the animal reared and
plunged. The rest of the animals tugged at their bonds and wild with
fear made every effort to break loose. Joseph was beside himself with
anxiety.
“They won’t hit him,” observed Robert reassuringly. “There are a hundred
horses in that bunch and The Swallow is about the best protected one of
all. He was the first to arrive so that all the others are grouped
around him and help to keep him covered.”
“If they shoot him I’ll kill every Indian Black Hawk has!” exclaimed
Joseph fiercely. “That would be the last straw.”
“Kill ’em all anyway,” urged Robert. “That’s our business just now and
at present we’re not attending to it.”
As Joseph turned away to resume his post another bullet struck in the
midst of the group of horses. The animal collapsed almost instantly and
once more all the others were thrown into confusion. It was a horrible
sight to see the poor dumb brutes, almost crazy with fright, and yet
unable to do one thing to help themselves. They kicked and reared and
plunged and many of them were hurt. The Indians were quick to observe
the damage they were inflicting and soon much of their fire was
concentrated on the horses. Already ten animals had been shot.
“Quite a large number of Indians have been killed I think,” remarked
John Mason to Joseph when he resumed his place at his porthole.
“Think they’ll last much longer?”
“No, I don’t. The very fact that they have turned their attention to the
horses shows that they haven’t much hope of taking the blockhouse.”
“I wish they’d leave soon,” exclaimed Joseph. “I’m afraid they’re going
to shoot The Swallow unless they stop firing at the horses pretty
quick.”
“The only way you can stop them is to make it so hot for them they’ll
have to leave,” observed Mason.
“I might go out and bring him inside,” said Joseph eagerly. “Do you
think I could get him out of that bunch of horses?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Mason shortly. “As long as I have an ounce of
strength left in my body, I’ll use it to prevent you from doing anything
so foolish, too.”
“Look there,” cried Robert suddenly. He hurried up to the spot where
Joseph and John Mason were, and pointed eagerly out of one of the
portholes.