Part 29 (1/2)
For some time the savage hors.e.m.e.n continued their circling gallop around the b.u.t.te--one occasionally swooping nearer; but covered by the body of his horse in such a way that it was impossible to sight him. These manoeuvres were executed by the young warriors, apparently in a spirit of bravado, and with the design of showing off their courage and equestrian skill. We disregarded the harmless demonstrations, watching them only when made in the direction of our animals. At intervals a hideous face peeping over the withers of a horse, offered a tempting target. My comrades would have tried a flying shot had I not restrained them. A miss would have damaged our prestige in the eyes of the enemy.
It was of importance that they should continue to believe in the infallibility of the fire-weapon.
After a time, we observed a change of tactics. The galloping slackened, and soon came to an end. The hors.e.m.e.n threw themselves into small groups, at nearly equal distances apart, and forming a ring round the b.u.t.te. Most of the riders then dismounted, a few only remaining upon their horses, and continuing to dash backward and forward, from group to group. These groups were beyond the range of our rifles, though not of the sergeant's musket. But the savages--both mounted and afoot--had taken care to make ramparts of their steeds. At first, this manoeuvre of our enemies appeared to have no other object than that of placing themselves in a position to guard against our retreat. A moment's reflection, however, told us that this could not be the design. There were but two points by which we could pa.s.s down to the plain--on opposite sides of the b.u.t.te--why then should they _surround_ it? It could not be for the purpose of cutting off our retreat? That could be done as effectually without the circular deployment.
Their design soon became apparent. We observed that the muskets were distributed among the groups, three or four to each. With these they now opened fire upon us from all sides at once, keeping it up as fast as they could load the pieces. The effect was to render our situation a little more perilous. Not having the means to make our parapet continuous, we were at several points exposed. Had we had good marksmen to deal with, we should have been in danger. As it was, we drew well back towards the centre of the platform; and were screened by its outer angles. Now and then a shot struck the rock, sending the splinters in our faces; but all four of us escaped being hit by the bullets.
We had made an observation that rendered us uneasy: we had observed a weak point in our defence. We wondered that our a.s.sailants had not also noticed it. Around the b.u.t.te, and close up to its base, lay many boulders of rock. They were prisms of granite, that had become detached from the cairn itself, and rolled down its declivity. They rested upon the plain, forming a ring concentric with the circular base of the mound. Many of these boulders had a diameter of six feet, and would have sheltered the body of a man from our shots. Others, again, rested along the sloping sides of the b.u.t.te--also of prismatic shapes, with sides overhanging. These might form ramparts for our a.s.sailants should they attempt to storm our position. Even the spreading cedars would have hidden them from our sight. They were the trailing juniper of the western wilds--very different from the Virginian cedar. They were of broad bushy forms, with stunted stems, and tortuous branches, densely set with a dark acetalous foliage. They covered the sides of the b.u.t.te, from base to middle height, with a draping perfectly impenetrable to the eye. Though there was no path save that already mentioned, a.s.sailants, active as ours, might unseen have scaled the declivity. Should the Indians make a bold, dash up to the base of the b.u.t.te, leave their horses, and take to the rocks, they might advance upon us without risk.
While working their way up the slope, they would be safe from our shots, sheltered by the projecting prisms, and screened by the trees. We should not dare to expose ourselves over the edge of the platform: since the others, remaining behind the boulders below, would cover us with their aim; and the shower of arrows would insure our destruction. Those who might scale the mound, would have us at their mercy. a.s.sailing us simultaneously from all sides, and springing suddenly upon the platform, ten to one against us, they could soon overpower us.
These were the observations we had made, and the reflections that resulted from them. We only wondered that our enemies had not yet perceived the advantage of this plan of attack; and, since they had neglected it so long, we were in hopes that the idea would not occur to them at all. It was not long before we perceived our error; and that we had miscalculated the cunning of our dusky foes. We saw the Indians once more taking to their horses. Some order had reached them from the Red-Hand, who stood conspicuous in the midst of the largest group of his warriors. The movement that resulted from this order was similar to that already practised in the endeavour to stampede our animals: only that all the band took part in it--even the chiefs mounting and riding among the rest. The marksmen _alone_ remained afoot, and continued to fire from behind their horses.
Once more the mounted warriors commence galloping in circles round the b.u.t.te. We perceive that at each wheel they are coming nearer, and can divine their intent. It is the very plan of attack we have been apprehending! We can tell by their gestures that they are about to charge forward to the rocks.
Regardless of the fire from the plain, we creep back to the edge of the parapet, and point our pieces towards the circling hors.e.m.e.n. We are excited with, new apprehensions; but the caution to keep cool is once more pa.s.sed around; and each resolves not to fire without being certain of his aim. On our first shots will depend the success or failure of the attack. As before, we arrange that two only shall fire at a time.
If the shots prove true, and two of our foes fall to them, it may check the charge, perhaps repulse it altogether? Such often happens with an onset of Indians--on whom the dread of the fire-weapon acts with a mysterious effect. On the other hand, if we miss, our fate is sealed and certain. We shall not even have the choice of that last desperate resort, on which we have built a hope. We shall be cut off from all escape: for our animals will be gone before we can reach them. On foot, it will be idle to attempt flight. Even could we run the gauntlet through their line, we know they could overtake us upon the plain!
We feel like men about to throw dice for our lives, and dice too that are loaded against us! Nearer and nearer they come, until they are coursing within fifty yards of the b.u.t.te, and scarcely twice that distance from our guns. Were their bodies uncovered, we could reach them; but we see only their hands, feet, and faces--the latter only at intervals. They draw nearer and nearer, till at length they are riding within the circle of danger. Our superior elevation gives us the advantage. We begin to see their bodies over the backs of their horses.
A little nearer yet, and some of these horses will go riderless over the plain! Ha! they have perceived their danger--one and all of them.
Notwithstanding their cries of bravado, and mutual encouragement, they dread to make the final rush. Each fears that himself may be the victim!
Our heads were growing dizzy with watching them, and we were still expecting to see some of them turn their horses, and dash inward to the b.u.t.te; when we heard a signal-cry circulating through their ranks. All at once the foremost of them was seen swerving off, followed by the whole troop! Before we could recover from our surprise, they had galloped far beyond the range of our guns, and once more stood halted upon the plain!
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.
A RAMPART ON WHEELS.
For a time, our hearts throbbed more lightly; the pressure of apprehension was removed. We fancied the savages had either not yet become fully aware of the advantage of storming our position, or that the certainty of losing some of their number had intimidated them from making the attempt. They had abandoned their design, whatever it was; and intended waiting for night--the favourite fighting-time of the Indian. This was just what we desired; and we were congratulating ourselves that the prospect had changed in our favour. Our joy was short-lived: the enemy showed no signs of repose. Cl.u.s.tered upon the plain, they still kept to their horses. By this, we knew that some other movement was intended. The chiefs were again in the centre of the crowd, the Red-Hand conspicuous. He was heard haranguing his warriors, though we could not guess the purport of his speech. His gestures told of fierce rage--his glances, now and then directed towards us, betokened a spirit of implacable vengeance. At the conclusion of his speech, he waved his hand in the direction of the waggon. The gesture appeared to be the accompaniment of a command. It was promptly and instantly obeyed. A dozen hors.e.m.e.n dashed out from the group, and galloped off.
Their course was straight up the valley--towards the scene of their late strife. Those who had remained upon the ground dismounted, and were seen giving their horses to the gra.s.s. This might have led us to antic.i.p.ate a suspension of hostilities; but it did not. The att.i.tude of our enemies was not that of purposed repose. On the contrary, they came together afoot; and engaged in what appeared to be an eager consultation. The chiefs spoke in turn. Some new scheme was being discussed. We watched the party who had ridden off. As antic.i.p.ated, the waggon proved to be the _b.u.t.t_ of their excursion. Having reached it, they halt; and, dismounting, become grouped around it. It is impossible for some time to tell what they are doing. Even the gla.s.s does not reveal the nature of their movements. There are others besides those who rode up; and the white tilt appears in the midst of is dark cl.u.s.ter of men and horses. Their errand at length becomes obvious. The crowd is seen to scatter. Horses appear harnessed to the tongue--the wheels are in motion--the vehicle is turning round upon the plain. We see that some half-dozen horses are hitched on, with men seated upon their backs as teamsters! They make a wheel, and head down the valley in the direction of the b.u.t.te. They are seen urging the animals into a rapid pace. The waggon, no longer loaded, leaps lightly over the smooth sward. The horses are spurred into a gallop; and amidst the shouts of the savage drivers, drag the huge vehicle after them with the rough rapidity of a mountain howitzer. In a few minutes, it advances to the ground occupied by the dismounted band, who surround it upon its arrival.
We upon the summit have a full view of all. We recognise the well-known Troy waggon--with its red wheels, blue body, and ample canvas roof. The lettering, ”Troy, New York,” is legible on the tilt--a strange sight in the midst of its present possessors! What can be their object with the waggon? Their actions leave us not long in doubt. The horses are unharnessed and led aside. Half-a-dozen savages are seen crouching under the axles, and laying hold of the spokes. As many more stand behind--screened from our sight by the tilt-cloth, the body, and boxing.
The pole projects in the direction of the mound!
Their object is now too painfully apparent. Without thinking of the a.n.a.logy of the Trojan horse, we see that this monster of a modern Troy is about to be employed for a similar purpose. Yes--s.h.i.+elded by the thick planking of its bed--by its head and hind boards--by its canvas covering, and other cloths which they have cunningly spread along its sides, the savages may approach the mound in perfect safety. Such is their design. With dismay, we perceive it. We can do nought either to r.e.t.a.r.d or hinder its execution. Those under the vehicle can ”spoke” the wheels forward, without in the least exposing their bodies to our aim.
Even their hands and arms are not visible: buffalo-robes and blankets hang over, draping the wheels from our view. Those behind are equally well screened; and can propel the huge machine, without risk of danger.
We note all these circ.u.mstances with feelings of keen apprehension. We adopt no means to hinder the movement: we can think of none, since none is possible. We are paralysed by a sense of our utter helplessness.
We are allowed but little time to reflect upon it. Amidst the shouts of the savages, we hear the creaking of the wheels; we behold the ma.s.s in motion! Onward it comes toward the mound--advancing with apparently spontaneous motion, as if it were some living monster--some horrid mammoth--approaching to destroy and devour us!
Had it been such a monster, its proximity could scarce have inspired us with a greater dread. We felt that our destruction was equally certain.
The savages would now surround us--advance up the rocks--spring upon us from all sides at once; and, although we might fight to the death--which we had determined to do--still must we die. The knowledge that we should die fighting, and with arms in our hands--that we should fall upon the corpses of our enemies, avenging death before parting with life--this knowledge was but a feeble ray to support and cheer us.
Though no cowards--not one of us--we could not look forward to our fate, without a feeling of dread. The certainty of that fate we could no longer question. Even the time seemed to be fixed. In a few minutes, the a.s.sailants would be upon us; and we should be engaged in the last struggle of our lives--without the slightest probability of being able to save them!
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.
THE a.s.sAULT.
With the prospect of such fatal issue--so proximate as to seem already present--no wonder that our hearts were dismayed at sight of the waggon moving towards us. As the inhabitants of a leaguered city behold with fear the advance of the screened catapult or mighty ”ram,” so regarded we the approach of that familiar vehicle--now a very monster in our eyes. We were not permitted to view the spectacle in perfect security.