CHAPTER XV.
OFF TO THE NEW MINES--"GOD'S COUNTRY"--A SHOWER OF SPARKS--THE CHEYENNE MAIDEN--SEEING IS BELIEVING--A SHARP WAIL--BEHIND THE BRUSH--THE LEAP LIKE A WILD-CAT--THE EFFECT OF UNPALATABLE NEWS--EVADING CROSS-QUESTIONING--THREE DAYS' FIGHTING--THE ENEMY PREPARING FOR VICTORY--ADVICE FROM EXPERIENCE--TWO BRAVE FELLOWS--BACON-FAT AND A KNIFE--WAITING AND HOPING.
But we were destined not to return as quietly as we had proposed doing.Upon our arrival at Boice City, we were induced to join a company whowere going to Jordan Creek for the purpose of prospecting. It had beenmade up by Jeff Stanaford and another man of the name of Jennings. Afterdepositing our gold-dust, therefore, with Wells, Fargo and Company, oneof whose branch-offices was in this place, we started with our newacquaintances for the spot named, which Stanaford asserted from his ownpersonal knowledge, was very rich.
All told, our party numbered some twenty-seven men well armed andprovided.
When some three or four days out, we camped at noon, about four o'clock,on a small rocky knoll, from the summit of which a deliciously clear andcool spring was oozing. Round the rise of this knoll there was excellentpasturage for our horses, and stretching beyond this on every side was alevel plain, broken up with small sage-brush. At night-fall, our horseswere brought in and picketed close to the spring. No suspicion of theslightest danger was entertained by us. Indeed, we all of us sleptsoundly during the first part of the night, save Jennings, who was onthe watch.
Some three hour's before dawn, however, I became restless, and myslumbers were broken. A feeling of impending danger seemed to presentitself to me, which I was unable to shake off.
Sitting up, I looked around. The night was as dark as pitch. Nothingcould be seen by me, save the forms stretched upon the grass by thedying embers of the camp-fire, which scarcely gave light enough todetect them. I, however, managed to make out the figure of Jennings, whowas sitting on the ground at a little distance. He was leaning forwardupon his rifle, and was, I at once felt certain, fast asleep.
Possibly somewhat annoyed by this carelessness, I had caught up one ofthe half-extinguished brands from the fire, and was about hurling it athim, when I felt a light hand touch my shoulder.
The brand fell from my grasp as I rapidly turned, and the scatteringsparks thrown from its burning end showed me a face which, since I hadfirst looked on it, had never entirely passed from my memory.
How it was, my lips did not give utterance to a cry of astonishment, itis now, as it would have been then, impossible for me to say.
There were the superbly dark eyes, whose eloquence of expression I hadnever forgotten. There was that wealthy mass of raven hair, which hadcrowned the head of the Cheyenne maiden, for whom I had so nearly thrustfrom me the memory of the little woman I had left behind me in the East,or "God's country," as so many of the settlers and trappers call it.
It was Clo-ke-ta.
As she moved slowly away, I rose to my feet and followed her.
I seemed to be in a dream.
All I remember is, that the sleeper near me, on my right, stirred. Mymovement had startled him. He, nevertheless, did not wake.
Pausing for an instant where the horses were picketed, I once more heardher voice.
Although in a whisper, it was riper, fuller and more womanly than whenit last sounded on my ears.
"Let my brother take his horse."
"Why should he do so?" I asked in a tone no louder than hers had been.
"My brother must have many miles between himself and this place, beforethe dawn."
"And why?"
"Clo-ke-ta's master"--the intonation of this epithet was scornful, and,as it seemed to me, full of regret, which she disdainedsuppressing--"has his braves gathered around."
"Is Clo-ke-ta, then, married?"
I could not help the passionate inflexion with which I framed thiswhisper. For the moment, I had not only forgotten the wife who had sorecently joined me, but the very information the Cheyenne woman had justgiven me.
"The daughter of Par-a-wau could not go childless to the grave."
"Certainly not," I answered mechanically.
My memory had bridged the intervening years between the present and thetime when the parent of Clo-ke-ta, as well as Old Spotted Tail, had doneme the honor of wishing to enroll me as a Cheyenne chief.
"Will my brother do as Clo-ke-ta has bidden him?"
The impatience of the request was more like her father's manner andvoice than anything she had yet said. It recalled me to the life of mypresent.
"And who is Clo-ke-ta's husband?"
"A Bannock chief."
"The Indians from whom I am then to fly are the Bannocks?"
"My brother is right."
"Does not Clo-ke-ta know that the braves with her brother are numerous."
"The Bannocks who are waiting for the dawn, number more than the leavesof the sage-brush my brother has seen, before he laid himself down torest."
Figurative as the expression was, there was no mistaking itssignificance. We were decidedly in for it, if her words were true, ineven the thousandth or ten-thousandth part of her somewhat extensivestyle of reckoning the forces of our enemy. However, my experience ofthe Indian character for veracity had greatly modified the faith which,when I first knew her, I might have placed in her words. Considering ourformer relations, it would seem to be a matter of difficulty to make herunderstand this. But life in the hills and plains of the Westconsiderably impairs sentimental delicacy in conversation, even with onewhom a man had so narrowly escaped from wedding, as I had her. After abrief pause, I said:
"What the white man sees, he believes."
"What says my brother?"
"Let Clo-ke-ta prove her words, to his eyes!"
"The white chief does not think Clo-ke-ta has told him the truth!"
Her whisper was shapen so contemptuously that, at the moment, I couldalmost have bitten out my tongue in wrath at what it had given breathto. However, it was of importance that I should know whether herinformation had been exaggerated or not. I consequently replied:
"He does not."
Her fingers were laid upon my arm with an imperative gesture, as shewhispered in a tone where scorn and affection were curiously blended:
"Let the white chief follow Clo-ke-ta. But his feet must be as light asthe first leaf the autumn wind strews upon the plain."
As her last word fell upon my ear, she glided away from me. Nor was itwithout some difficulty I kept my sight upon her undulating form, as mysteps sped noiselessly after.
We must have covered some eight hundred yards, or possibly less, whenshe pointed a little to my right, in advance of the spot we had reached.There I saw the struggling light of a small camp-fire, carefullysmothered down with the torn-up roots of sage-brush, as I concluded, andcould just make out the forms of the slumbering red-skins around it.Still further on the right I caught the faint glow of another. To theleft, I could just make out two more; the farthest of these was sodistant, that it was no larger, although less defined, than the flash ofthe fire-flies I had been accustomed to watch round my home in Galena,even earlier than the period at which I commenced this history of myadventures. As I turned towards her again, she said in a lower voiceeven than she had previously adopted:
"My brother has sharp eyes."
"He has."
"Does he now believe what Clo-ke-ta has told him?"
"'Does my brother now believe what Clo-ke-ta has toldhim?'"--_Page 222_.]
"Yes."
"And he will listen to her counsel?"
"He cannot."
"Why?"
"He is a white brave."
"Clo-ke-ta knows it."
"The red man might run away, by himself. Who would call him a coward?"
"His tribe would--"
She commenced thus, indignantly. Then she saw the error she wascommitting, and broke short off, as I continued:
"Without those who are with him can fly too, the white brave mu
stremain."
A single sharp wail of grief rose from her lips. As it did so, I threwmyself upon the ground and speedily commenced crawling back as rapidlyas I could, to the camp.
Such a cry was enough to arouse every sleeping Bannock who might bewithin earshot of her, and quicken them to my presence.
One glance I cast upon her, before the darkness blotted her out from mysight. She was standing erect and motionless, and it appeared to me thatshe made a gesture with one of her arms as if to quicken my movements.There was no need for her to do so. The necessity for my reaching myfriends was too obvious. Unless I was detected, she would be safe.
Already I had covered half the distance between the place, where I hadpaused with her, and our camp, when I rested for a moment. It was analmost compulsory pause. The speed with which my retreat had beencommenced, and the position in which it had been made, had for themoment taken away my breath. There was now also, in the darkness, noabsolute necessity for my continuing my creeping posture. I had,therefore, half risen to my feet, when I caught the rapid sound ofIndian footsteps. A red-skin was behind me.
Remaining upon my knee, I drew my knife, and listened. There was,evidently, only one who had disbelieved what Clo-ke-ta might have said.Possibly, although this is very unlikely, one only may have beenawakened by her wail.
Had there been more than the one, I might have used my revolver, for thepurpose of alarming the boys. If I had done so, it must have brought outthe rest of the red devils. We had need of time for consultation. CouldI get rid of my pursuer, without giving him the chance for one dyingwhoop, we should, at least, have this.
A clump of sage-brush would have hidden me from the rapidly approachingIndian, even had the dawn been already breaking.
He could only have fancied he heard my stealthy flight, as I knew Iheard his rapidly approaching tread.
Now he was close to the sage-brush, behind which I was kneeling. Aninstant after, a dark figure, relieved against the comparatively lightersky, is passing it. His limbs nearly touch me.
One leap, like that of a wild-cat, has fastened me upon him.
Fortunately my left hand has clutched him by the throat. He strugglesdesperately, and attempts to shout. My knife was, however, ready.
In less than half a minute, all was over.
When I re-climbed the knoll, I found the boys already stirring. Thewailing cry of Clo-ke-ta had aroused Arnold, who, finding me absent, hadawakened the rest. Jennings could tell them nothing of my absence.Brighton Bill had proposed to Harry a search for me. The latter,however, saw that until the morning had broken, any such search must beworse than useless.
"And here are Mose, by Heaven!" ejaculated Jennings.
He rounded off his sentence with a fearful oath of delight, as by thelight of the camp-fire, which had been heaped with fresh brush, he wasthe first to recognize me. Without a word, I was trampling out theflame, in which attempt I was assisted by Bill, who had a profound faithin my sagacity, and would, I firmly believe, have lent me a hand incutting Harry Arnold's throat, had I thought proper to do so. When theaffair had been accomplished, he would probably have inquired my reasonfor such a bloody proceeding, but not until then.
"What on airth! are yer about?" roared Stanaford. "Can't yer leave thefire alone?"
"Mose must have a sufficient reason," said Arnold. "Wait 'till he tellsit to you."
"Hingins!" was Bill's suggestive explanation.
"Wall! aren't we enough for 'em?"
"Scarcely!" I answered. Then I added, as I trampled out the last burningembers with my heel, "they are all around us."
"How many?" inquired Arnold.
"I cannot tell, yet," was my reply, given with what, could it have beenseen by him, was a grim smile. "Probably, some two hundred and fifty."
"Yer can't mean it!" exclaimed Jennings.
"Boys!" I then said, "we are in the tightest fix I have yet been in.They are Bannocks, and the Bannocks will fight, as you all know."
"How do you know what they are?" inquired Arnold.
A flush stole over my face as I delayed to answer. Had there beensufficient light to have detected it, I might have been exposed to anawkward cross-questioning. However, I replied:
"By taking one of their scalps."
This was a possible reason, although by no means a probable one, save inthe case of an old Indian fighter. Nevertheless, it answered thepurpose, for the announcement that we were, as it turned out afterwards,actually besieged by a large body of red warriors, was by no meansadapted to raise the spirits of the men who were listening. Indeed,those of many of them dropped to zero.
Little more of the ordinary talk in a miner's camp was likely to passbetween us, during the remainder of the night. It would not, however, belong for us to wait until the morning light verified my words. None ofus cared about attempting again to sleep. We watched impatiently untilthe day broke. Then it was discovered that I had greatly under-estimatedthe number of the enemy. Although unable to reckon them, precisely,there were certainly more than five hundred red-skins waiting to raiseour hair.
When we realized our position, we saw that the contest against suchodds must be almost a hopeless one. We consequently determined uponselling our lives as dearly as possible.
The first day passed in a succession of charges upon the knoll by thered rascals, broken by their repulse, and intervals of rest for us,following each separate attack. Our position was, by good luck, aremarkably strong one, and in these intervals we succeeded in greatlystrengthening it. With our shovels and picks we tore up huge fragmentsof rock, with which we built ourselves breastworks, and excavatedtrenches for our own security, from which we could pick off theadvancing Bannocks, whenever they indulged themselves in a charge.
At first, it somewhat puzzled me how Clo-ke-ta had learned of my beinghere. But my name, as well as those of Arnold and Brighton Bill, hadbecome tolerably well-known among the Indians in the section of countryaround Susanville, and I at last concluded that it was known that allthree of us were with the party. If so, the reason for thesecomparatively dilatory attacks was obvious. A prudent fear of exposingthemselves to our unerring aim, kept them from resolutely putting an endto the matter.
During the whole of the ensuing night, a sharp look-out was kept up.None of our guards, who were regularly relieved at stated intervals,slept as Jennings had done on the preceding one.
Early on the following day, their Mahalas, or squaws, began to clear offa piece of ground beyond the range of our rifles. It was in vain, Iattempted to recognize the form of Clo-ke-ta among them. Possibly shedid not share their labors, although it is more than probable thedistance prevented my sight from distinguishing her. While I waswatching this operation, interesting not only to me but the rest of us,from its too evident intention, Brighton Bill said:
"Ha blamed pretty sight, hain't hit, Mose?"
"You know what it's for, then?" I could not help asking him.
"Hin course Hi do. H'it's ha kind hof theayter where the blamed Hinginsmean to torture h'us."
"If they catch us, Bill!"
"They will have hus, sooner h'or later, that's sartain."
"They had me once, Bill. But while I have a knife, they shall never haveme again."
"Hi'm blowed, Mose, hif you hare'nt right. Hi'll tell 'Ank, hand 'e andHi will take care we're not roasted halive, too."
"You will be doing wisely."
After the Mahalas had picked the spot which had been selected as clearof sage-brush and rocks, as the back of a child's hand, they rearedtheir rude and disgusting banners around it. Their design was perfectlyclear. They intended to starve us out and take us prisoners. While wewere discussing the probabilities of this, however, one of the Bannocksapproached a little too near. It was a somewhat long shot, yet Arnoldsucceeded in dropping him. This excited the rest to fury, and theycharged upon us with such a roar of whoops and yells, as seemed to be aperfect Pandemonium. Never have I, before or since, listened to such adevil's Babel. We shot two of them during
the attack, which wasrepeated, again and again, during the remainder of the day. Its resultoccasionally varied. But on each attack they paid for it in somethingthe same ratio.
On this afternoon they received reinforcements, and on the next morningtheir numbers again heavily increased. Arnold, indeed, calculated thatthere must, on the third morning, have been more than twelve hundredred-skins surrounding us.
Some discussion had on the second day taken place as to the feasibilityof our cutting our way through them. This large increase in their forcehad, however, rendered such an attempt a matter of mere insanity. Thewhole of that day, they kept making dashes at us. Up to this,nevertheless, they had inflicted no damage upon our party. One result oftheir tactics, had, however, caused us serious uneasiness. Ourammunition was wasting gradually away. Moreover, our stock of provisionswas running very low. It was clear, if things continued as they nowwere, we should not only find our guns useless, but might, if theBannocks waited long enough, be unable to raise a finger inself-defence.
That night, it was evident to the most thick-headed amongst us, that itwould be impossible for us to hold out much longer.
Things were looking desperate. We had already been placed upon shortallowance for our stomachs. It had now become necessary to place somerestriction upon our frequency of firing at the red devils. At thecouncil in which we discussed our situation, two of us, named Gardinerand Jasper, volunteered to attempt passing the Indian lines during thenight. If they were unable to procure us relief, they would at any rateperish in the attempt to do so.
It was a gallant offer. But they were like the rest of us, men of pluck.Had we not been so, necessity would have produced it. Nothing gives aman so much bravery, as the knowledge that his own courage alone keepsdeath at bay for a day or two longer. Their resolution was certainlyincreased by this knowledge.
Suffice it, this offer was accepted.
About eleven o'clock on that night, they stripped themselves perfectlynaked, and, greasing their bodies with a portion of the bacon-fat whichchanced to be left, prepared for their task. The reason for doing thislast, was, in order to avoid their clothes catching on or beingentangled by the brush, as well as to afford a chance of their escapingthe grasp of the red devils, should their progress alarm them.
They were each armed with a sheath-knife. If caught, they had determinedupon fighting as long as they had any life left to fight with. Neitherof them would be taken captive. My experience, while in the hands of thePah-utes, had been detailed to them on the preceding night, by BrightonBill, in a full audience of the rest of our party. Nor did he narrateit, with mitigating circumstances. As may be very readily supposed, thishad been by no means a highly consolatory recital.
It was, therefore, with a prayer for their safety from our lips, andwith small hope of it in their own thoughts, that they left us.
The words in which our farewell had been uttered, seemed like bidding alast "good-bye" to actual brothers. Darkness had fallen heavily aroundus. We were unable to pierce the dense gloom with our eyes, and couldsee nothing. What was left to us but to wait and hope?
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