CHAPTER V.
A Fight with the Indians.
When setting out the next morning, Frank noticed that the wagons,instead of starting off singly, and straggling, as they had formerlydone, kept close together, and traveled more rapidly. The trapper,too, instead of taking the lead, and getting in advance of the train,seemed satisfied to remain with the others. Upon inquiring the reasonfor this, Dick replied:
"You may find out afore night, youngster, that we are in a bad bit ofInjun country. The train that went out afore us had a scrimmage herewith nigh five hundred of the red-skins, who stampeded some of theirstock. So keep your eyes open, an' if you see a Injun, let me know toonct." The trapper said this with a broad grin, that was meant toimply that if they were attacked, the Indians would make theirappearance before a person so inexperienced as Frank could be aware ofit.
"The red-skins don't gener'lly keer 'bout an out-an'-out fight,"continued the trapper, "'cause they don't like these long rifles, an'they know that these yere pioneers shoot mighty sharp. All the Injunswant--or all they can get--is the stock; an' they sometimes jump on toa train afore a feller knows it, an' yell an' kick up a big fuss,which frightens the cattle. That's what we call stampedin' 'em. An',youngster, do you see that 'ar?"
As the trapper spoke, he pointed out over the prairie towards a littlehill about two miles distant. After gazing for a few moments in thedirection indicated, Archie replied:
"I see something that looks like a weed or a tuft of grass."
"Wal, that's no weed," said the trapper, with a laugh, "nor grass,neither. If it is, it's on hossback, an' carries a shootin'-iron or abow an' arrer. That's a Injun, or I never seed one afore. What do yousay, Bob?" he asked, turning to the old trapper, who at this momentcame up.
"I seed that five minutes ago," was the reply, "an' in course it can'tbe nothin' but a red-skin."
The boys gazed long and earnestly at the object, but their eyes werenot as sharp as those of the trappers, for they could not discoverthat it bore any resemblance to an Indian, until Mr. Winters handedthem his field-glass through which he had been regarding the objectever since its discovery. Then they found that the trappers had notbeen deceived. It was a solitary Indian, who sat on his horse asmotionless as a statue, no doubt watching the train, and endeavoringto satisfy himself of the number of men there might be to defend it.In his hand he carried something that looked like a spear adorned witha tuft of feathers.
"I wish the varlet was in good pluggin' distance," said Dick, pattinghis rifle which lay across his knees. "If I could only get a bead onhim, he would never carry back to his fellers the news of what he hasseed."
"Do you suppose there are more of them?" asked Archie, in a voice thatwould tremble in spite of himself.
"Sartin," replied old Bob Kelly, who still rode beside the wagon;"thar's more of 'em not fur off. This feller is a kind o' spy like,an' when he has seen exactly how things stand, he'll go back an' tellthe rest of 'em, an' the fust thing we know, they'll be down on uslike a hawk on a June-bug. But they'll ketch a weasel, _they_ will,when they pitch into us. Dick, when they do come, don't forget BillLawson."
The trapper turned his head, for a moment, as if to hide the emotionhe felt, at the mention of the name of his departed companion, butpresently replied:
"This aint the fust time that you an' me have been in jest sichscrapes, Bob, an' it aint likely that we'll soon forget that we owethe varlets a long settlement. Thar aint as many of us now as tharused to be; more'n one good trapper has had his har raised by themsame red-skins--fur I know a Cheyenne as fur as I kin see him,youngsters--an' mebbe one o' these days, when some one asks, 'What'scome on ole Bob Kelly an' Dick Lewis?' the answer will be, 'Killed bythe Injuns!'"
It may be readily supposed that such conversation as this was notcalculated to quiet the feelings of Frank and Archie--who had beenconsiderably agitated by the information that there was a body ofhostile Indians at no great distance--and to their excitedimaginations the danger appeared tenfold worse than it really was. Atthat day, as the trapper had remarked, it was a very uncommonoccurrence for a large train to be engaged in a regular fight with theIndians, for the latter had learned to their cost that the pioneerswere always well armed, and that there were some among them whounderstood Indian fighting. They generally contented themselves withsudden and rapid raids upon the stock of the emigrants, and theyseldom departed empty-handed. But it is not to be wondered that thetrappers, who had participated in numberless engagements with thesavages, and witnessed deeds of cruelty that had awakened in them adesire for vengeance, should delight to talk over their experience.The boys, although considerably frightened, were still greatlyencouraged by their example. Dick twisted uneasily on his seat, asthough impatient for the fight to begin, now and then looking towardthe spy, as if he had half a mind to venture a shot at him; while oldBob Kelly rode along, smoking his pipe, apparently as unconcerned asthough there was not a hostile Indian within a hundred miles of them.Mr. Winters evidently partook of the old man's indifference, for,after satisfying himself that his weapons were in readiness, he drewback beside his nephews, and said, with a smile:
"Well, boys, you may have an opportunity to try your skill on big gamenow. This will be a little different from the fight you had in thewoods with those Indians who stole your traps. Then you had the forceon your side; now the savages are the stronger party. But there's nodanger," he added, quickly seeing that the boys looked rather anxious;"every man in the train is a good shot, and the most of them have beenin Indian fights before. I don't believe all the red-skins on theprairie could whip us while we have Dick and Bob with us."
The boys themselves had great confidence in the trappers--especiallyDick, who, they knew, would never desert them. But even _he_ hadseveral times been worsted by the Indians. Frank thought of the storyof the lost wagon train. But then he remembered that the reason thattrain was captured, was because the emigrants had not "stood up to themark like men."
All this while the train had been moving ahead at a rapid pace, andmany an anxious eye was directed toward the solitary Indian, whoremained standing where he was first discovered until the wagons hadpassed, when he suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. All that daythe emigrants rode with their weapons in their hands, in readiness torepel an attack; and when they halted at noon, guards were postedabout the camp, and the cattle were kept close to the wagons. But,although now and then a single Indian would be seen upon one of thedistant swells, the main body kept out of sight; and the boys began tohope that the train was considered too large to be successfullyattacked. At night old Bob Kelly selected the place for theencampment, which was made according to his directions. The wagonswere drawn up in a circle to form a breastwork, and the cattle werepicketed close by under the protection of a strong guard. Fires werebuilt, and preparations for supper carried on as usual, for, ofcourse, all attempts at concealment would have been time and laborthrown away. As soon as it began to grow dark, the cattle were securedto the wagons by long stout ropes, which, while they allowed theanimals to graze, effectually prevented escape. Then guards wereselected, and the emigrants made every preparation to give the savagesa warm reception, in case they should make a dash upon the camp. Noone thought of his blanket. The idea of going to sleep while a band ofIndians was hovering about, watching their opportunity to pounce downupon them, was out of the question. The two trappers, after satisfyingthemselves that every thing was in readiness for an attack, began tostation the guards. Frank again thought of the story Dick had relatedof the lost wagon train, and, desiring to witness an exhibition of theskill that had enabled him to detect the presence of the Indians onthat occasion, proposed to Archie that they should stand guard withhim. The latter, who always felt safe when in the company of theirguide, agreed; and when the trapper started off with the guards, hewas surprised to find the boys at his side.
"Whar are you goin'?" he asked.
"We want to stand guard with you!" replied Frank.
"Wal, I never _did_
see sich keerless fellers as you be," said thetrapper. "You get wusser an' wusser. Much you don't know about thisbisness. I guess you had better stay here whar you're safe."
"Wal, wal!" said old Bob Kelly, who was not a little astonished at therequest the boys had made, "they've got the real grit in 'em, that's afact, if they are green as punkins in Injun fightin'. A few year onthe prairy would make 'em as good as me or you, Dick Lewis. But you'llget enough of Injuns afore you see daylight ag'in, youngsters. So youhad better stay here."
So saying he shouldered his rifle, and, followed by the guards,disappeared in the darkness. The boys reluctantly returned to theirwagon, where they found Uncle James, seated on the ground, whistlingsoftly to himself, and apparently indifferent as to the course theIndians might see fit to adopt. But still he had not neglected to makepreparations to receive them, for his rifle stood leaning against oneof the wheels of the wagon, and he carried his revolvers in his belt.The boys silently seated themselves on the ground beside him, andawaited the issue of events with their feelings worked up to thehighest pitch of excitement. The fires had burned low, but stillthere was light sufficient to enable them to discover the emigrantsstretched on the ground about the wagons, talking to one another inwhispers, as if almost afraid to break the stillness that brooded overthe camp, and which was interrupted only by the barking of the prairiewolves, and the neighing and tramping of the horses. Two hours werepassed in this way, when suddenly the sharp report of a rifle,accompanied by a terrific yell, rang out on the air, causing theemigrants to grasp their weapons and spring to their feet in alarm.For an instant all was silent again. The stillness was so deep thatFrank thought the camp was suddenly deserted. Then a long drawn outwhoop arose from the prairie, followed by a chorus of yells thatstruck terror to more than one heart in that wagon train. Then came aclatter of horses' hoofs; the yells grew louder and louder; and theboys knew that the Indians were coming toward them. The emigrantsrushed to the wagons, and the next moment the savages swept by. Theboys saw a confused mass of rapidly-moving horsemen; heard the mostterrific yells, the report of fire-arms, and the struggles of thefrightened cattle as they attempted to escape, and then all was over.The Indians departed as rapidly as they had come, and the boys,bewildered by the noise, had not fired a shot. On the contrary, theystood holding their rifles in their hands, as if they had suddenlyforgotten how to use them. Uncle James, however, was not confused. Hehad heard the war-whoop before, and as he came out from behind thewagon, he began to reload one of his revolvers, remarking as he didso:
"There are some less in that band, I know."
"Did you shoot?" asked Archie, drawing a long breath of relief to knowthat the danger was past. "Why, I didn't have time to fire a shot."
"That's because you were frightened," replied Mr. Winters. "You see Ihave been in skirmishes like this before, and their yells don't makeme nervous. I had five good shots at them, and I don't often miss."
"I say, youngsters, are you all right?" exclaimed Dick, who at thismoment came up. "See here! I've got two fellers' top-knots. Bless you,they aint scalps," he continued, as the boys drew back. "They're onlythe feathers the Injuns wear in their har. I don't scalp Cheyennes,'cause I don't keer 'bout 'em. I make war on 'em 'cause it's natur.But when I knock over a Comanche, I take his har jest to 'member oleBill by. But, youngsters, warn't that jolly! I haven't heered a Injunyell fur more'n a year, an it makes me feel to hum. You can take thesefeathers, an' when you get back to Lawrence, tell the folks thar thatthe Injuns that wore 'em onct attacked the train you belonged to."
The emigrants' first care, after having satisfied themselves that theIndians had gone, was to count their stock; and more than one had tomourn the loss of a favorite horse or mule, which had escaped and goneoff with the Indians. Mr. Winters, however, had lost nothing--thetrapper having tied the animals so securely that escape wasimpossible. Not a person in the train was injured--the only damagesustained being in the canvas covers of the wagons, which were riddledwith bullets and arrows.
The boys were still far from feeling safe, and probably would not havegone to bed that night had they not seen the trappers spreading theirblankets near the wagon. This re-assured them, for those men neverwould have thought of rest if there had been the least probabilitythat the Indians would return. So the boys took their beds out of thewagon and placed them beside those of Dick and his companion, who weretalking over the events of the night.
"This bisness of fightin' Injuns, youngsters," said the former, "isone that aint larnt out of books, nor in the woods about Lawrence. Ifyou had a-been with us, you would a seed that. Now, when I fust wentout thar, you couldn't 'a' told that thar war a red-skin on theprairy. But I laid my ear to the ground, an' purty quick I heerd arumblin' like, an' I knowed the noise war made by hosses. Arter that,I heerd a rustlin' in the grass, an' seed a Injun sneakin' along, easylike, t'wards the camp. So I drawed up my ole shootin' iron, an' donethe bisness fur him, an' then started fur the camp, loadin' my rifleas I ran. In course the Injuns seed then that it warn't no use to goa-foolin' with us, so they all set up a yell, an' here they come. Idodged under the wagon, an' as they went by, I give 'em another shot,an' seed a red-skin go off dead."
"Go off dead!" repeated Frank. "How could he go off when he was dead?"
"Why," said the trapper, with a laugh, in which he was joined by oldBob Kelly, "every one of them Injuns war tied fast to his hoss, sothat if he war killed he wouldn't fall off; an', in course, his hosswould keep on with the rest, an' carry him away. I seed more'n oneInjun go off dead to-night, an' the way I come to get them feathers,b'longin' to them two chaps, war, that somebody had shot their hosses.I seed 'em on the ground, tryin' to cut themselves loose from theirsaddles, so I run up an' settled 'em. That war four I rubbed out.Good-night, youngsters. You needn't be afraid, 'cause they won't comeback again to-night."
As the trapper spoke, he placed his cap under his head for a pillow,re-arranged his blanket, and was soon in a sound sleep.
During the next two weeks nothing occurred to relieve the monotony ofthe journey. The train took up its line of march at daylight, haltedat noon for an hour or two, and shortly after sunset encamped for thenight. The fight with the Indians had not driven all thoughts of theantelopes out of the boys' minds. And while the train journeyed alongthe road, they scoured the prairie, in search of the wished-for game.The appearance of the "sea of grass," which stretched away on allsides, as far as their eyes could reach, not a little surprised them.Instead of the perfectly level plain they had expected to see, thesurface of the prairie was broken by gentle swells, like immense wavesof the ocean, and here and there--sometimes two or three days' journeyapart--were small patches of woods, called "oak openings."
One night they made their camp in sight of the Rocky Mountains. Whilethe trapper was cooking their supper, he said to the boys, who hadthrown themselves on the ground near the wagon:
"It aint fur from here that me an' ole Bill Lawson lost that wagontrain. I never travel along here that I don't think of that night, an'I sometimes feel my cap rise on my head, jest as it did when themInjuns come pourin' into the camp. But the varlets have been pushedback further an' further, an' now a feller's as safe here as he wouldbe in Fort Laramie. The ole bar's hole aint more'n fifty mile fromhere, an' if your uncle don't mind the ride, I should like to show youthe cave that has so often sarved me fur a hidin'-place."
The boys looked toward Mr. Winters, who, having frequently heard theguide speak of the "ole bar's hole," felt some curiosity to see it.So, after being assured by both the trappers that there was no dangerto be apprehended, he gave his consent, remarking:
"We are in no hurry. I don't suppose there is any possibility of beinglost so long as we have Dick and Bob for guides; so we will go there,and take a week's rest and a hunt."
The boys were delighted, and the next morning, when the train resumedits journey, the emigrants were not a little surprised to see Mr.Winters' wagon moving off by itself.
That night, when ou
r travelers encamped, they were thirty miles fromthe train, and about the same distance from the "ole bar's hole." Themountains were plainly visible, and the boys could scarcely believethat they were nearly a day's journey distant. They were certain thata ride of an hour or two would bring them to the willows that skirtedtheir base.
"'T aint the fust time I've seed fellers fooled 'bout sich things,"said Dick. "Do you see that 'ar high peak?" he continued, pointing toa single mountain that rose high above the others. "Wal, thar's wharthe ole bar's hole is. If we reach it afore dark to-morrer night, I'llagree to set you down in Sacramento in two weeks."
The boys were still far from being convinced, and they went to sleepthat night fully believing that they would reach the mountains by noonthe next day.
Frank on the Prairie Page 5