Part 38 (2/2)
”True--where is it? It was out yonder on the plain? I saw it there: they had scalped him.”
”Yees; they sculped him at the time we weer all captered. He weer lying jest out theer last night at sundown. He ain't theer now; nor ain't a been this mornin', or I'd a seed him. What do ees think they've done wi' him anyhow?”
The disappearance of the body was singular enough. It had undoubtedly been removed from the spot where it had lain; and was now nowhere to be seen! It was scarcely probable that the wolves had eaten it, for the Indians had been all night upon the ground; and their camp-fires were near. True, the _coyotes_ would have cared little for that; but surely the brutes could not have carried the body clear away? The bones, at least, would have remained? There were none--not a trace either of body or bones! We pa.s.sed around the b.u.t.te, and made search on the other side. There was no dead body there--no remains of one. Ha--the river!
It swept past within fifty yards of the mound. It would account for the disappearance of the corpse. Had the Indians thrown it into the water?
We walked towards the stream, half mechanically. We had little expectation of finding the remains of the unfortunate man. The current rushed rapidly on: the body would have been taken along with it?
”Maybe it mout hev lodged somewheres?” suggested Sure-shot. ”Ef we shed find it, capting, I'd like to put a sod over him, for old times' sake.
Sh.e.l.l we try down the stream?”
We followed the bank downward. A little below grew willows, forming a selvedge to the river's edge. Their culms curved over, till the long quivering leaves dipped into the water. Here and there were thickets of them extending back into the plain. Only by pa.s.sing through these could the bank of the river be reached. We entered among the willows, Wingrove going in the advance.
I saw him stoop suddenly, as if to examine the ground. An exclamation escaped him, and the words:
”Someb'dy's crawled through hyar, or been dragged through--one o' the two ways.”
”No!” added he, after a moment, ”he's not been dragged; he's been creepin' on his hands an' knees. Look thar! the track o' a knee, as clar as daylight; an', by the tarnal! it's been covered wi' broad-cloth.
No Injun kud a made that mark!”
We all bent over to examine the sign. Sure enough, it was the track of a man's knee; and the plastic mud exhibited on its surface a print of fretted lines, which must have been made by coa.r.s.e threadbare cloth!
”By Gos.h.!.+” exclaimed Sure-shot, ”that eer's the infantry overall--the givernment cloth to a sartingty. Petrick's been abeout heer. Lordy, tain't possyble he's still living?”
”Shure-shat! Shure-shat! Mother ov Moses! is it yerself I hear?”
The voice reached us in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. It appeared to rise out of the earth! For some moments, we all stood, as if petrified by surprise.
”Shure-shat!” continued the voice, ”won't yez help me out? I'm too wake to get up the bank.”
”Petrick, as I'm a livin' sinner! Good Lordy, Petrick! wheer air ye?
'Tain't possyble yeer alive?”
”Och, an' shure I'm aloive, that same. But I'm more than half did, for all that; an' nearly drownded to boot. Arrah, boys! rache me a hand, an' pull me out--for I can't move meself--one of my legs is broke.”
We all three rushed down to the water--whence the voice appeared to come. Under the drooping willows, where the current had undermined the bank, we perceived an object in motion. A fearful object it was to look upon: it was the encrimsoned skull of our scalped comrade! His body was submerged below the surface. His head alone was visible--a horrid sight! The three of us leaped at once into the stream; and, raising the poor fellow in our arms, lifted him out on the bank. It was as he had alleged. One of his legs was broken below the knee; and other frightful wounds appeared in different parts of his body. No wonder the Indians had believed him dead, when they stripped off that terrible trophy!
Notwithstanding the ill usage he had received, there was still hope.
His wounds, though ugly to the eye, were none of them mortal. With care, he might recover; and, taking him up as tenderly as possible, we conveyed him back to the b.u.t.te. The Arapahoes had left their _impedimenta_ behind them--blankets and robes at discretion. With these, a soft couch was prepared under the shade of the waggon body, and the wounded man placed upon it. Such rude dressing, as we were able to give, was at once administered to his wounds; and we found new joy in the antic.i.p.ation of his recovery. His disappearance--from the spot where he had been left for dead--was explained. He had ”played 'possum,” as he himself expressed it. Though roughly handled, and actually senseless for a time, he had still clung to life. He knew that the Indians believed him dead--else why should they have scalped him?
With a faint hope of being left upon the field, he had lain still, without stirring hand or foot; and the savages, otherwise occupied, had not noticed him after taking his scalp. By some accident, his hands had got over his face; and, perceiving that these screened his countenance from observation, he had permitted them to remain so. With half-opened eyes, he could see between his fingers, and note many of the movements that were pa.s.sing upon the plain in front of him--all this without the Indians having the slightest suspicion that he lived!
It was a terrible time for him--an ordeal equal to that endured by Sure-shot and myself. Every now and then some half drunken savage would come staggering past; and he knew not how soon some one of these strollers might stick a spear into him, out of mere wantonness! On the arrival of night, his hopes had revived; and the cool air had also the effect of partially restoring his strength. The savages, carousing around their fires, took no notice of him; and, as soon as darkness was fairly down, he had commenced crawling off in the direction of the river. He had a double object in going thither. He was suffering from horrid thirst; and he hoped there to find relief, as well as a hiding-place. After crawling for more than an hour, he had succeeded in reaching the bank; and, taking to the water, he had waded down, and concealed himself under the willows--in the place where we had found him. Such was the adventure of the _ci-devant_ soldier, Patrick O'Tigg--an escape almost miraculous!
As if fulfilling the laws of dramatic justice--that the farce should succeed the tragedy--our attention was at this moment called to a ludicrous incident. The Mexican trapper had ridden up, and halted beside the waggon; when all at once his eyes became fixed upon an object that lay near at hand upon the gra.s.s. It was the black silk hat of the ex-rifleman, already mentioned in our narrative. After gazing at it for a moment, the Mexican slid down from his horse; and, hobbling towards the hat, took it up. Then uttering a fierce ”_Carajo_,” he dashed the ”tile” back to the ground, and commenced stamping upon it, as if it had been some venomous serpent he desired to annihilate!
”Hilloo! theer, _hombre_!” shouted Sure-shot. ”What the ole scratch air ye abeout? Why, ye yeller-bellied fool, thet's my _hat_ yeer stompin'
on!”
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