Part 5 (1/2)

I thought that he himself would now wish to go back, but he was too proud to think of doing that. He had become the acknowledged leader of the party, and the st.u.r.dy men who remained with us were now all for going forward; so, after we had buried our dear mother in a grove of trees which grew near the camp, and had built a monument of rough stones over her grave, to mark the spot, we once more moved forward.

We had just formed our camp the next day, in a more exposed situation than usual, when we saw a party of mounted Indians hovering in the distance. My father, who had not lifted his head until now, gave orders for the disposal of the waggons as could best be done. There were not sufficient to form a large circle, however, so that our fortifications were less strong than they had before been. We made the cattle graze as close to the camp as possible, so that they might be driven inside at a moment's notice; and of course we kept strict watch, one half of the men only lying down at a time.

The night had almost pa.s.sed away without our being a.s.sailed, when just before dawn those on watch shouted out--

”Here they are! Up, up, boys! got in the cattle--quick!”

Just as the last animal was driven inside our fortifications the enemy were upon us. We received them with a hot fire, which emptied three saddles; when, according to their fas.h.i.+on, they lifted up their dead or wounded companions and carried them off out of the range of our rifles.

Our men shouted, thinking that they had gained the victory; but the Indians were only preparing for another a.s.sault. Seeing the smallness of our numbers, they were persuaded that they could overwhelm us; and soon we caught sight of them moving round so as to encircle our camp, and thus attack us on all sides at once.

”Remember the women and children,” cried my father, whose spirit was now aroused. ”If we give in, we and they will be ma.s.sacred; so we can do nothing but fight to the last.”

The men shouted, and vowed to stand by each other.

Before the Indians, however, got within range of our rifles, they wheeled round and galloped off again, but we could still see them hovering round us. It was pretty evident that they had not given up the intention of attacking us; their object being to weary us out, and make our hearts, as they would call it, turn pale.

Just before the sun rose above the horizon they once more came on, decreasing the circ.u.mference of the circle, and gradually closing in upon us; not at a rapid rate, however, but slowly--sometimes so slowly that they scarcely appeared to move.

”Do not fire, friends, until you can take good aim,” cried my father, as the enemy got within distant rifle range. ”It is just what they wish us to do; then they will come charging down upon us, in the hope of finding our rifles unloaded. Better let them come sufficiently near to see their eyes; alternate men of you only fire.”

The savages were armed only with bows and spears; still they could shoot their arrows, we knew, when galloping at full speed.

At a sign from one of their leaders they suddenly put their horses to full speed, at the same time giving vent to what I can only describe as a mingling of shrieks and shouts and howls, forming the terrific Indian war-whoop. They were mistaken, however, if they expected to frighten our st.u.r.dy backwoodsmen. The first of our men fired when they were about twenty yards off. Several of the red warriors were knocked over, but the rest came on, shooting their arrows, and fancying that they had to attack men with empty firearms. The second shots were full in their faces, telling therefore with great effect; while our people raised a shout, which, if not as shrill, was almost as telling as that of the Indian war-whoop. The first men who had fired were ramming away with all their might to reload, and were able to deliver a second fire; while those who had pistols discharged them directly afterwards.

The Indians, supposing that our party, although we had but few waggons, must be far more numerous than they had expected, wheeled round without attempting to break through the barricade, and galloped off at full speed,--not even attempting to pick up those who had fallen.

The women and children, with Clarice, I should have said, had been protected by a barricade of bales and chests; so that, although a number of arrows had flown into our enclosure, not one of them was hurt.

On looking at my father, I saw that he was paler than usual; and what was my dismay to find that an arrow had entered his side! It was quickly cut out, although the operation caused him much suffering. He declared, however, that it was only a flesh wound, and not worth taking into consideration.

The Indians being still near us, we thought it only too probable that we should again be attacked. And, indeed, our antic.i.p.ations were soon fully realised. In less than half an hour, after having apparently been reinforced, they once more came on, but this time with; the intention of attacking only one side.

We were looking about us, however, in every direction, to ascertain what manoeuvres they might adopt, when we saw to the westward another body of hors.e.m.e.n coming across the prairie.

”We are to have a fresh band of them upon us,” cried some of our party.

”No, no,” I shouted out; ”they are white men! I see their rifle-barrels glancing in the sun; and there are no plumes above their heads!”

I was right; and before many minutes were over the Indians had seen them too, and, not liking their looks, had galloped off to the southward.

We received the strangers with cheers as they drew near; and they proved to be a large body of traders.

”We heard your shots, and guessed that those p.a.w.nee rascals were upon you,” said their leader, as he dismounted.

He came up to where my father was lying by the side of the waggon.

”I am sorry to see that you are hurt, friend,” he said. ”Any of the rest of your people wounded? If there are, and your party will come on to our camp, we will render you all the a.s.sistance in our power.”

”Only two of our men have been hit, and that but slightly; and my wound is nothing,” answered my father. ”We are much obliged to you, however.”