by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XII.
THE ATTACK ON THE CARAVAN.
ALTHOUGH great uneasiness had been caused by the reports as to theIndians, the members of the caravan were in good spirits. So far thejourney had been a success. The difficulties met with in crossingstreams and bad bits of ground had been considerable, but were nogreater than they had looked for. The animals had preserved their healthand condition. The supply of fresh meat had been regular, and all werein excellent health. The rise of ground had been so gradual that it hadscarcely been felt; but they were now at a considerable height above thesea, and the brisk clear air braced their nerves, and enabled even thefeeblest to stand the fatigue without inconvenience.
One day when Frank was out alone with Dick on the north of the line ofmarch, they came within sight of some buffalo grazing, and Frank wasabout to set spurs to his horse when his companion suddenly checked him.
"What is it?" Frank said in surprise. "They don't see us, and if wefollow that hollow we shall be able to get close to them before they cancatch sight of us."
"That's so," Dick said, "but just at present it air a question ofsomething more serious than bufflars, it air a question of Injins."
"Indians!" Frank exclaimed, gazing round in every direction. "Where,Dick? I see no signs of them."
"No, and if you were to look round all day you wouldn't see 'em; theyare at your feet."
Frank looked down in surprise.
"I can see nothing," he said, after a minute examination of the ground.
"It's thar, though," Dick said, throwing himself off his horse. "Look atthis soft piece of ground; that is a hoof-print, and there is anotherand another."
Frank also dismounted and examined the ground.
"Yes," he said, "I can see a number of hoof-prints now you point themout. But how do you know that they are Indian prints?"
"Because they are unshod; besides, you see, instead of coming along in acrowd, as a drove of turned loose horses would do, the marks are alltogether, one after the other, as they came along in single file. Thereis no doubt they are a party of Indians."
"They are ahead of us," Frank said.
"They were," Dick said, "but thar ain't no saying where they are now;may be watching us."
The thought was not a comfortable one, and Frank grasped his rifletightly as he looked round.
"Just stay where you are," Dick said; "we are in a hollow, and I willhave a look round."
Dick made his way upon his hands and knees to the top of the brow,choosing a spot where the shrubs grew thickest, and making his way withsuch caution that Frank could scarcely keep him in sight. When hereached the brow he raised his head and looked round in all directionsand then went on. It was nearly half an hour before he rejoined hiscompanion.
"They have gone straight ahead," he said. "I went over the brow, anddown the next hollow, and found their trail strong there, for the groundis swampy; they had certainly passed within an hour of the time I gotthere."
"How did you know that?" Frank asked.
"Because the water was still muddy where they had passed; it would havesettled again in an hour after being disturbed, so they could not havebeen more than that time ahead. They were keeping just parallel with theline of march of the caravan."
"How many of them do you think there were?"
"Between fifty and sixty," Dick said confidently.
"Perhaps they were merely journeying quietly along," Frank suggested.
"Not likely," Dick replied; "they must have seen these bufflars, andwould have been after them, almost to a sartinty, had they not had otherbusiness on hand. No, I expect they were watching the caravan, and hadmade up their minds to wait till nightfall, or perhaps till it came tosome place where they can get up close without being seen, and fall uponit by surprise. We will ride back at once with the news, and put them ontheir guard."
An hour's riding brought them to the caravan, where their news created agreat sensation. Hitherto the danger from Indians had appeared a remotetrouble, which might not, after all, befall them. The news that fifty orsixty of these dreaded foes were marching along, almost within sight,and might at any moment attack them, brought the danger close indeed.The waggons were driven in even closer order; the women and childrenwere told to keep between the lines; the men distributed themselvesamong the teams, ready to unyoke the oxen at the shortest notice, and toform the waggons in order of defence. Abe and his companions had not yetreturned; but a quarter of an hour later they were seen gallopingtowards the camp.
"You must keep close together and look spry," Abe shouted as heapproached; "we have come upon signs of a large body of Indians, ahundred and fifty or two hundred strong, I reckon, out there on theplains. They have passed along this morning, and ain't up to no good, Iexpect."
"We have found signs of a smaller party, Abe, some fifty or sixty, onour left; these were marching straight along, pretty well in the line weare going."
"Then," Abe said, "ye had best look to yer guns, for they mean mischief;they must have been watching us this morning when we started, butconcluded that the ground was too level, and that we should have time toget into position before they could get up to us, besides we had all theadvantage in the stockades at the station. There ain't no station thisevening."
"Do you think they will attack us on the road?" Frank asked.
"That will depend on whether they think they can take us unawares. Geton yer horses again. Dick, do you ride half a mile ahead of the caravan,don't keep in the hollows, but follow the line of the brow on the right.Young Frank and I will scout half a mile out on the right of thecaravan; Rube and Jim, you go the same distance on the left; that waywe can see them coming, and the teamsters will have plenty of time toform up the waggons. But I don't reckon as they will attack; when theysees as we are on the lookout they will guess we have come across theirtracks, and will see that their chances of a surprise are gone for theday."
"Do you think they will attack us to-night?" Frank asked his companions.
"They may, and they may not. As a general thing these Plain Injins arenot fond of night attacks; it's part superstition, no doubt, and partbecause they are much more at home on horseback than on foot. Stillthere's never no saying with an Injin; but I should say, lad, that theyain't likely to do that yet. They will try other ways fust. They knowsas how they have got plenty of time, and can choose their opportunity,if it's a month hence. They are wonderful patient, are the redskins, andtime air of no account to them; but at present I think the mostdangerous times will be after we have camped and before night comes on,and at daybreak before we makes our start."
Two more days passed quietly, and a feeling of hope pervaded the caravanthat the Indians had ridden on and sought for other prey. But Abeassured them that they must not relax their precautions, and that thefailure of the Indians to attack was no proof whatever that they hadabandoned their intention to do so.
"An Injin is always most dangerous just when you ain't thinking of him.You may be sure we have been watched, although we haven't seen no one,and that seeing as we are on guard they are waiting for us to becomecareless again; or it may be they have fixed upon their place ofattack, and if so, you may bet yer life it is a good one. Above allthings you men impress upon the women and children that in case of asudden attack they shall each take refuge at once in the waggons, in theplaces allotted to them, and that they shall do it with out anysquealing or yelling; there's nothing bothers men and flurries them,just as they have got need to be cool and steady, as the yelping of apack of women. Just impress on them as it does no good, and adds to thechances of their getting their throats cut and their har raised."
The hunter's orders were very strongly impressed upon the women andchildren, and even the latter were made to feel thoroughly theimportance of silence in case of an attack.
Upon the following day they came upon a spot where the trail crossed adeep hollow; the sides were extremely steep, the bottom flat and swampy.Rough attempts had been made by preceding travellers
to reduce thesteepness of the bank, but it was in no way improved thereby; the upperedge was indeed more gradual, but the soil cut away there, and shovelleddown, had been softened by subsequent rains, while the torn surface ofthe bottom, and the deep tracks left by the wheels, showed how the teamshad struggled through it. They explored for some little distance up anddown to see if an easier point for crossing could be discovered, butcame to the conclusion that the spot at which the tracks crossed it wasthe easiest, as in most places the bank had been eaten away by winterrains and was almost perpendicular. They had reached this spot late inthe evening, and prepared to cross soon after daybreak "You will haveto fix up three teams to each waggon," Abe had said, "and take one overat a time. We will be out early scouting--for, mind you, this is alikely place to be attacked by the redskins; they will know there is abad spot here, and will guess as you will be in confusion and divided,some on one side of the gulch, some on the other. Give particular chargeto the men to have their rifles handy, and to prepare to defend thewaggons to the last, and pass round word among the women and childrennot to be scared in case of an attack, as we shall drive the Injins offhandsomely if they come."
At daybreak, Abe, Dick, and Frank crossed the gulch, the other twohunters remaining behind.
"We must not go far from the crossing," Abe said. "We don't know whichway the tarnal critters may come, and in case of attack, all our gunswill be wanted. They will guess as we shall begin to cross the firstthing in the morning, and that it will take three or four hours to getover. So, if they are coming, it will be in a couple of hours, so as tocatch us divided."
They took their station on a rise a few hundred yards from the crossing,one of them riding back from time to time to see how the operation ofcrossing was going on. It was one of immense difficulty. The oxen weremired almost up to their chests, and the waggons sunk axle-deep. Thewaggons stuck fast in spite of the efforts of all the men in the party.Frank looked on for some time, and then a thought struck him.
"Look here, you will never get the waggons on in that way, the oxencannot pull an ounce. The best way will be to unyoke them, take themacross, and get them up on the level ground on the top; then fasten yourropes together and hitch them to the waggon. The bullocks, on firmground, can easily pull it across."
The suggestion was at once acted upon. The bottom was some fifty yardswide, and there were plenty of ropes in the waggons which had beenbrought for lowering them down difficult places, and for replacing anyof the long rope traces which might be broken and worn out. Two of thesewere attached to the waggon, and the oxen were taken over and up thefurther side. A team was attached to each rope, and as the whip crackedthe ponderous waggon was at once set in motion, and was soon draggedthrough the mud and up the incline.
"That's a capital plan of yourn, young fellow," John Little said. "Idon't know how we ever should have got across the other way, and I hadjust made up my mind to give it up and move down this hollow till wecame to firmer ground."
Five more waggons were got across in the same manner. Suddenly Abedischarged his rifle.
"What's the matter?" Frank exclaimed.
"Injins," Abe said briefly. "Them's the heads of the tarnal cusses justcoming over the line of that rise."
The spot to where he pointed was about half a mile distant, and soonFrank perceived a number of dark objects rising above it. Almost at thesame instant the sound of a gun was heard on the other side of thegulch.
"They are going to attack both sides at once," Abe said, as theygalloped back towards the crossing; "that shows they are strong. If theyhad any doubts about licking us they would have thrown thar wholestrength on one party or the other."
On reaching the waggons they found the men there working with all theirmight to get the six waggons in position, side by side across the top ofthe ascent. The oxen had already been taken down into the hollow.
"That's right," Abe shouted, as they leapt from their horses and aidedin the movement. "It couldn't be better. Well and steady. You havethree or four minutes yet."
The waggons were drawn up in two lines with their wheels touching, theinner line being on the very edge of the descent. The women and childrenwere placed in the inner waggons, while the eight men who had comeacross with them, and the three hunters, took their places in theoutside waggons.
Almost all the men had been across with the teams when the guns werefired, but the remainder had run back to aid in the defence of thewaggons on the other side. These were already in a position of defence,having been so arranged before the crossing began. So well had Abe'sorders been carried out, that no confusion whatever had occurred. At thesound of the guns the women had climbed, and helped the children, intothe waggons allotted to them, and the men, on arriving, quietly took uptheir positions.
The Indians were not visible until they reached a spot about threehundred yards from the waggons. As they dashed up the rise they checkedtheir horses. Instead of seeing, as they had expected, everything inconfusion and dismay, not a soul was visible, and the clumps of waggonsstood, one on either side, ranged as for defence. However, after waitingfor three days for their prey, they were not to be balked. Their wildwar-cry rose in the air, and the two bodies of horsemen charged down onthe travellers.
In an instant a deadly fire broke out, the men kneeling in the bottom ofthe waggons and resting their rifles on the rail, the tilt being raiseda few inches to enable them to see under it. Every shot told among themass of horsemen. The emigrants were all new to Indian warfare, but mostof them were farmers accustomed from boyhood to the use of the rifle,and the coolness of the hunters, and their preparation for attack,steadied them, and gave them confidence. Several of the Indians fell atthe first discharge, but the advance was not checked, and at full speedthey came on.
"Steady, lads; don't throw away a shot," Abe shouted, as the men loadedand discharged their rifles as quickly as possible; "see that everybullet tells."
Already the Indians were checking the speed of their horses, for theposition was a most difficult one to attack. It could not be surrounded,and, indeed, could only be attacked on the face of the outside waggons,from which a stream of fire was pouring. As the leaders came on Frankand the two hunters, who both, like himself, carried revolvers, laidaside their rifles and brought these deadly weapons into action, restingthem on the rail to secure an accurate fire. The quick, sharp cracks ofthese, followed in almost every case by the fall of one of the horsemenin front, completed the dismay of the Indians. Quick as thought, thosewho had fallen were lifted across the horses of their comrades, and thewhole band, turning, galloped away at full speed, pursued, as long asthey were in sight, by the rifle-balls of the defenders of the waggons.
"So much for them," Abe said, as he leapt to the ground. "Now let usgive a hand to our comrades."
The fight was still raging on the other side. The number of waggons waslarger, and the facilities for defence less. The waggons were surroundedby a throng of Indians, who were cutting at them with their tomahawks,discharging their rifles into the tilts, and some, having thrownthemselves from their horses, were endeavouring to climb up. Thedefenders were still fighting desperately. They had no longer time toload, but with hatchets and clubbed rifles beat down the Indians whotried to climb the waggons. A few minutes, however, would have ended theresistance had not help been at hand.
From the opposite side of the gulch eleven men poured the contents oftheir rifles among the Indians. One of the leading chiefs and four ofhis followers fell dead, and almost before the Indians had recoveredfrom their surprise a dropping fire was opened, almost every shot takingeffect. A cheer broke from the defenders of the waggons, and they foughtwith renewed hope, while the Indians, startled by this unlooked-forattack, and by the repulse of their comrades, began to lose heart.
Only for a few minutes longer did they continue the attack. The deadlyflank fire proved too much for their courage, and soon they too were infull flight, carrying off with them their killed and wounded. A shout oftriumph rose from the tw
o parties of whites, and a scene of wild delighttook place; the women, now that the excitement was over, cried andlaughed alternately in hysterical joy; the children shouted, while themen grasped each other's hands in fervent congratulation.
"We all owe our lives to you and your comrades," John Little said toAbe. "If it had not been for you we should all have gone under; and, Itell you, if ever we get across these plains we will find some way toshow our gratitude. As long as John Little has a crust in the world hewill share it with you."
When the excitement had somewhat abated, the work of crossing wasrecommenced, and in two hours all were over and the journey wascontinued.
"Do you think the Indians will attack us again?" John Little asked Abe,when the caravan was set in motion.
"They will, if they see a chance," Abe replied. "They have lost a lot ofmen, and will get vengeance if they can. It depends partly whether tharbig chief was killed or not; if he war they may give it up now; theysees as we are strong and well-armed. If not, thar chief will do all hecan to wipe us out, for he will be held responsible for the affair, andsuch a defeat would lower his influence in the tribe."
Five days later they saw some waggons in the distance. Since the attackthe hunters had not left the caravan, as the emigrants all declared thatthey would far rather go without fresh meat than have the hunters absentfrom the camp. A few deer only, which had been seen from the line ofmarch, had been stalked and shot.
"There is a caravan halting ahead," Frank said. "We heard at the laststation that one passed ten days back. I wonder what they are haltingfor. The next water, according to the distances the station-keeper gaveus, must be ten miles away."
"I don't like the look of it," Abe replied. "Travelling at about thesame rate as we do, they should still be about ten days ahead. I am verymuch afraid that something has happened; those varmint we thrashed, orsome other, may have attacked them."
For another mile not a word was spoken; then they reached a spot fromwhich the waggons and the ground around them was clearly visible.
"I see no sign of movement," Abe said to John Little, "and thar seems tobe a lot of dark objects lying about. I will ride forward with my mates.If, as I calculate, there has been a massacre, you had better take thewaggons a detour a mile round, so that the women and children may bespared the sight of it. It would be enough to make them skeery for therest of the journey."
Abe and his comrades galloped forward.
"Have your rifles ready," the former said; "there may be some of thevarmint hiding about still, though I don't think it likely. I expect theattack took place some days back."
On nearing the waggons their apprehensions were verified. Around lay thecarcasses of the oxen with bales and boxes broken open and rifled oftheir contents. In and near the waggons were the bodies of theirdefenders, mingled with those of the women and children. All had beenscalped, and the bodies were mutilated with gashes of the tomahawks. Noattempt had been made to put the waggons into any position of defence;they still stood in a long line, as they had been travelling when theIndians fell upon them. There were twelve waggons, and they countedeighty bodies lying around them.
"It has been a regular surprise," Abe said, "and I expect there war verylittle fighting. The Injins burst out on them, there war a wild panic, afew shots war fired, and it war all over; that's how I read it. Hillo!what's that?"
A deep growl was heard, and turning they saw under a bush a mastiff,standing over the body of a child. The animal could with difficulty keepits legs; it had been pierced by a lance, and had received a blow with atomahawk on the head which had nearly cut off one of its ears. It haddoubtless been left for dead, but had recovered itself, and crawled tothe side of one of the children of the family to which it belonged. Itshead was covered with matted blood, and its tongue hung out, black andparched with thirst; but it growled savagely, its hair bristled on itsback, and it prepared to defend to the last the body of its youngmaster.
"Poor fellow!" Frank said, dismounting. "Poor old boy, we are friends."
At the kind tones of the voice the dog relaxed the fierceness of itsaspect, it gave a faint whine, and lay down by the child's body. Franktook off his thick felt hat, filled it with water from the skin hangingfrom his saddle, and carried it to the dog. The animal raised itselfagain with an effort, and drank eagerly; when it had finished, it thrustits great nose into Frank's hand and wagged its tail, then it returnedto the body and gave a piteous howl. The tears stood in Frank's eyes.
"Lend a hand with your knives," he said to his comrades, who werelooking on; "let us dig a grave for the child, then the dog will perhapsfollow us; it is a grand dog, and I should like to have it."
The others dismounted, and with their knives and hands they soon scrapeda hole in the earth capable of containing the body. The mastiff stood bywatching their operations. Frank doubted whether it would allow him totouch the body of the child; but the animal seemed to comprehend hisintentions, and suffered him to raise the child and lay it in theground. No sooner was the grave filled up than the mastiff laid himselfdown beside it. Frank now offered the animal some meat from his wallet,and after this was eaten, bathed its head with water and brought theedges of the wound together, and bandaged it with a strip torn from hishunting-shirt.
"Come along, old fellow; come along with us, you can do no good here."
He mounted his horse, and the mastiff rose to its feet and stoodirresolute, and gave another piteous howl.
"Will you ride back to the caravan, Abe, and tell them there is nodanger? I will move slowly with the dog, and join them when they getabreast of us."
The four men started at a gallop. Frank dismounted again and patted themastiff; then tying his handkerchief to its collar, he walked slowlyaway, leading his horse. The mastiff followed at once, walking withdifficulty, for its hind-legs were almost paralysed from thespear-wound, which had passed through its body just under the spine,behind the ribs. It seemed, however, to feel that Frank was its masternow, and laid its great head in his hand as he walked beside it.
As Frank saw the line on which the caravan was now moving, he walkedslowly across to it and halted until the waggons came up. The mastiffwas lifted into one of them, and laid on some empty flour-sacks. Somemore water was given it, and the caravan proceeded on its way.
The terrible fate which had befallen their predecessors cast a deepgloom over the party, who shuddered to think how narrowly they hadescaped such a fate; there was no need now to impress upon any thenecessity of avoiding straggling, and redoubled vigilance was observedduring the march.
Frank attended assiduously to the mastiff, to whom he gave the name ofTurk. The spear-wound was kept poulticed, and that in the head wasplastered. Had the dog received such wounds at any other time they wouldhave probably proved fatal; but on the plains wounds heal rapidly, andthe brisk air and the life of activity and exercise render man and beastalike able to sustain serious injuries without succumbing.
In a week Turk was able to walk with the caravan; a fortnight later itcould gallop by Frank's side. They were now entering the Alkali Plains,a wide and desolate region, where water is extremely scarce, and, whenfound, brackish and bitter to the taste, and where the very shrubs areimpregnated with salt, and uneatable by most animals. In anticipation ofthe hardships to be endured in crossing this region, the bullocks hadbeen allowed for some time a daily ration of grain in addition to thegrass they could pick up during the halt, and were therefore in goodcondition.
A halt was made for three days before entering this district, and theteams were fresh and full of work when they started. The marches acrossthe salt plain were long and painful to man and beast; the dust, whichrose in clouds, was so impregnated with salt that it caused an intenseirritation to the lips and nostrils.
Everything was done as far as possible to alleviate the sufferings ofthe animals. Casks were filled with water at each halting-place, andeach time the oxen halted for rest their mouths and nostrils weresponged, and a small allowance given them to d
rink. As they progressedthey had reason to congratulate themselves on the precautions they hadtaken, for scarce a mile was passed without their coming across signs ofthe misfortunes which had befallen those who had gone before, in theshape of abandoned waggons, stores cast out to lighten the loads, andskeletons of oxen and horses. But, on the other hand, there was nowcomparatively slight danger of an Indian attack, for even the horses ofthe redskins, hardy as they are, could not support the hardships of aprolonged stay on the Alkali Plains.