University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
ATTACKED BY INDIANS.

The night set in cloudy, and the clouds gradually
became more dense, while the air grew cool and damp,
an almost certain precursor of rain. I crept into the
wagon with Varney; but most of the men rolled
themselves in their blankets, and laid down on the
earth, outside of the hollow square. For a long time
I laid awake, listening to the dismal howlings of the
prairie wolves, which are always to be found in great
numbers on the buffalo range, lying in wait to kill
and devour the wounded and defenceless cows and
calves. The expected rain had begun to fall, and its
gentle patter on the canvas covering of the wagon had
just lulled me into a doze, when I was startled by the
sharp, successive reports of three or four rifles, mingled
with the cries of “Indians! Indians!” and the fierce,
unearthly yells of a large body of savages.

“Heavens! we are attacked!” cried Varney.

“Remain where you are!” said I, hurriedly; “you
are safer here than elsewhere;” and, having laid down
with my clothes on, with my knife and pistols in my
belt, I instantly grasped my rifle, powder-horn and
bullet-pouch, and leaped to the ground outside.

I was now in the midst of a scene of the wildest
confusion; yells, shouts, and the reports of fire-arms
filled my ears; men were running to and fro; horses
were neighing, stamping, kicking, and cattle bellowing;
but it was so dark that I could not distinguish
friend from foe, and therefore I stood undetermined
and bewildered. Suddenly I felt something encircle
my neck with a snap—the fire flew from my eyes—
and at the same moment I was jerked to the earth, and
felt myself being dragged over the ground with great
rapidity. Not being deprived of consciousness, I knew
at once what had occurred. I had been perceived and
lassoed[1] by a mounted Indian, who was now dragging
me by the neck to a safe distance, for the purpose of
killing and scalping me. Fortunately for me, the
noose had passed over the barrel of my rifle, in front
of my chin, so that the rope drew upon the back of
my neck; while the tension of the lasso, as the horse
dashed away at great speed, kept my head elevated
above the earth; and retaining in that awful moment
my presence of mind, I caught the rope with one hand,

and held to it, while with the other I drew my knife
and cut it near the loop.

I was now released from the most imminent peril,
but lay half dead upon the ground, listening to the
clamor behind me, and thanking God for my almost
miraculous escape from sudden death. I knew I was
much hurt, but I hoped not mortally. My neck was
already swelled, and began to grow stiff, and felt as if
it had been twisted once round; my body was much
bruised, and my legs felt as if the skin were scraped
off in spots all the way down to my feet; but I was
satisfied there were no bones broken; and if not injured
internally, I had every reason to let my heart
swell with gratitude to God for his wonderful Providence.

But setting aside all my injuries, whether trifling
or important, my position was still one of great peril.
I was lying on the open prairie, some little distance
from camp, and literally surrounded by Indians—for
I could hear their horses darting hither and thither on
all sides, probably chasing and securing some of our
animals, which they had put to flight—this, of course,
being their principal object in attacking us—and
every moment I was fearful some beast would tread
upon me. I gathered myself upon my hands and
knees, ready to spring aside should I discover a horse
advancing directly upon me; but I made no effort to
return to camp; for, aside from considering myself as
safe where I was, I did not feel capable of any great

exertion, and had no desire to have my neck again
stretched with another lasso.

In this position, some two or three minutes passed;
and I was listening to the infernal yells of the savages
—mingled with the shouts of my companions, the
reports of fire-arms, and other sounds of conflict—
when I was startled by hearing the loud snort of a
horse close behind me. I turned my eyes in that direction,
and, after a sharp, steady look into the darkness,
I fancied I could perceive a still darker shadow
moving toward me. One of my pistols had been torn
from my belt, but the other remained; and grasping
this and my knife, I dropped down flat upon the earth,
with my eyes steadily fixed upon the shadow, which,
as it drew close to me, I could perceive assume the
figure of an Indian.

At first I was surprised that an Indian should be
on foot, approaching me at that slow, stealthy pace—
for I felt almost certain that no human eye could see
me where I lay—but I soon comprehended all. The
savage who had captured me, on finding I had
escaped from the lasso, and doubtless thinking me
dead or badly wounded, had cautiously returned on
his trail, for the purpose of getting my scalp. He
had dismounted from his beast, and led him forward,
till the snort of the animal—for the true Indian horse
never approaches the white man without signs of fear
—had warned him of my proximity; when, leaving
his horse behind him, he had stealthily advanced

alone, till my eye had been able to restore his seeming
shadow to a substantial human figure.

“Well, my worthy friend,” thought I, “you have
come back on a fool's errand; and if my weapons do
not fail me, there will probably be some howling in
your lodge, when your infernal, thieving, murdering
companions return to their village.”

I knew he did not see me—for his head was bent
forward, and he was feeling his way, as it were, at a
very slow, stealthy pace. At last he stopped within
a foot of me, and was just in the act of dropping down,
probably with the design of crawling up to me, supposing
me still several feet distant, when, thrusting
out my arm suddenly, I pressed the muzzle of the
pistol against his breast, and pulled the trigger. With
a yell of surprise, disappointment, rage and pain, he
bounded back, and fell, and rolled over and over
upon the moist earth; and then, uttering a long, gurgling
groan, he lay perfectly still.

“There, my fine fellow!” muttered I, grinding my
teeth with a kind of bitter satisfaction; “how do you
like that? Perhaps you would prefer dragging somebody
else by the neck over the prairie; but it is the
private opinion of a certain white gentleman from
the States that you never will.”

It may seem a little strange to the reader, that one
who had so recently felt compunctions of conscience at
shooting a villain who had assailed his life, should
now glory, as it were, in killing another of a different
race; but so it was; and it only shows how much

custom, public opinion, and education have to do
with conscience after all. Strictly and morally, it was
just as wrong for me to kill the Indian, as it would
have been, under the circumstances, to have killed
Loyola; but one appeared perfectly justifiable in my
eyes, and the other only a shade removed from
murder.

Scarcely had I shot the Indian, when the fight terminated
at the camp; and with fierce signal yells, the
savages seemed to collect in a body and dash away—
the hoofs of their horses thundering over the earth
together, and gradually dying out in the distance.

I now ventured to get upon my feet, for the purpose
of returning to the camp; but I was so bruised
and lame, that it was with difficulty I could walk;
while my neck was so swollen and stiff, that I could
only turn my head by turning my body. I had only
taken two or three steps, when I heard the horse of
the Indian snort and whinny; and it at once occurred
to me to make a capture of the beast—perhaps to
replace my own—for it was not improbable my own
had been stolen during the melee. So I turned back
and groped my way up to the animal, which I found
near his dead master, snuffing, snorting, whinnying,
and trembling, evidently uncertain whether to remain
or fly. He permitted me to approach him, though
not without signs of fear, and a half disposition to
spring away; but probably the fact of his master (for
whom he seemed to have an affection) remaining so

quietly on the ground, so near, gave him confidence in
a white stranger.

At all events, he suffered me to take hold of him,
and pat him on the neck; but when I attempted to
mount him, he began to shy and snort. I coaxed
and fondled him, till he became quite docile; but then
I discovered it would be no easy matter to mount,
even should he remain perfectly still—for in place of
a regular saddle with stirrups, he had only a part of
a buffalo-hide strapped to his back; and his bridle
was little else than a halter, without bit—his rider
having been able to govern him in a way peculiar to
the native of the wilderness. Taking the whole matter
into consideration, I began to be doubtful about the
propriety of mounting him at all; but it was unpleasant
to me to walk; and besides, I felt some pride in my
exploit, and thought it would look well to ride into
camp on a steed I had captured.

But mounting where I was, was out of the question
—for I was too stiff and lame to make the requisite
spring; and so I set off on a walk, leading him by
the halter. Had I continued on to camp in this manner,
it would have saved me no little trouble; but
happening to stumble against a small bank of earth,
I led him round to the lower side, and, after some
difficulty, succeeded in getting upon his back. He
now appeared very docile, and quiet, and I started
him forward at a gentle pace, in the direction of the
camp, being guided only by the voices of my companions,
for there was not a light to be seen.

All went very well till I was nearly up to the
wagons; when some one, mistaking me for one of the
savages, fired without challenging. Whether the horse
was hit or not, I never knew; but he wheeled suddenly
to the right, and bounded away like a comet—
my friends giving me a parting volley—the balls
whizzing over and under me, and increasing the terror
of my frightened beast.

It was now a John Gilpin race, sure enough; for I
found, after repeated trials, that I could neither control
nor guide the fiery animal, and so was compelled
to let him have his own way. It was easy riding
enough, but whither was he bearing me? Was he
following the trail of his companions? and would he
carry his captor into captivity, and thus take his revenge
upon me for the death of his master? It was
not a pleasant speculation, and I would have given
half my fortune to have been safely on the ground;
but getting to the ground, while under such speed,
was not to be thought of, unless I could make up my
mind for sudden death or broken bones; and until I
could see as imminent danger ahead, I did not feel like
taking the risk. Should I come within sight or hearing
of the Indians, I would leap from his back, be the
consequences what they might; but, till then, I
thought it best to take my chances where I was.

It was a wild, fearful ride; and yet to me it had
something of a sublime fascination. On, on we sped,
over the level prairie, my flying steed scarce seeming
to touch the earth, as he darted through the thick

darkness. In broad day-light, and under other circumstances,
the ride would have delighted me; for it had
the sense of flying, rather than running, and I would
have risked my neck for the peculiar sensation of such
wild freedom; but bounding through darkness, leaving
my friends behind me, and rushing perhaps into
the very jaws of death, or worse, was a different matter;
and yet, as I have said, it had a sort of sublime
fascination, and threw over the spirit and influence not
unlike that which urges an adventurer to some bold
and perilous exploit without rational motive. On, on,
we sped, in inky darkness, the rain pouring steadily
down, and not a thing to be seen, above, below, or
around. On! on! Now splashing through a stream
or pool—now flying through a startled herd of buffaloes—sometimes
brushing their shaggy manes, as they
strove to clear the way—with wolves howling on the
right and left—on! on! Mazeppa-like—though not
like him to be borne to a throne, but rather to sudden
death, or the torture-fires of a merciless foe.

Miles now lay between me and the camp of my
friends; and yet my “wild prairie steed” had not
slackened his railroad pace; and when he would, and
where, and what would be the end, the Lord only
knew! Again I tried to check him, but in vain; and
again I yielded to my fate, with what resignation I
could command, commending my soul to Him who
reigns and rules in time and eternity.

At last I heard the hollow, gurgling sound of an
angry flood; but ere I could fairly comprehend what

was before me, my maddened steeed had plunged
into the furious torrent, completely burying me under
water. So sudden was the immersion, that I nearly
lost my seat; but I had a tight grasp on his halter
and mane, and with him I came to the surface. His
speed was now checked, and I thanked God for it—
for I knew he must be swimming a river—and I
resolved to leap from his back when he should gain
the opposite shore, toward which he was struggling
with energy unrelaxed. Fierce was his contest with
the swollen stream—which sent its waters past us with
a hoarse murmur, gurgle and roar—as if, resolved not
to give us up to life and liberty, it were already
chanting our funeral dirge.

At length, after a long, violent struggle with the
watery element—which, on my part, was attended
with an intense, painful anxiety—I felt the feet of
the gallant beast touch the ground; and the next
moment, with a strong leap, he rose clear of the
stream. Now was my time; and instantly springing
from his back, I alighted among some bushes; while,
with a quick bound and a snort, he disappeared,
rushing away like the wind.

I was now safe on terra firma; but on what precise
point of the great globe, I could not tell. Judging
from the speed at which I had been borne from my
friends, and the time which had elapsed since leaving
the camp, some twenty miles now lay between us;
and if my course had been westward, it was
reasonable to suppose I was now on the western, or

rather southern, bank of the far-famed Pawnee Fork—
for I had heard this stream described as broad, deep,
and rapid after heavy rains, and just such a stream I
had crossed.

But what was to be done now? I got upon my
feet, with my water-soaked garments clinging to me,
like a second skin, and felt for my weapons—but not
one was to be found. Rifle, pistols, knife, all had been
left upon the prairie, and I had nothing with which to
defend myself against an enemy—or, what would probably
be of more importance, to kill game for food,
till I could find some human being of my race. This
was not a very agreeable discovery; but I had made
so many remarkable escapes, since leaving the States,
that I felt rather like trusting to my good fortune
than giving away to despair. Why borrow trouble
that might never come in any other shape?

I pushed through the bushes, ran against the trunks
of two or three trees, and then found myself once more
on the open prairie—the rushing river hoarsely murmuring
behind me. There was no change overhead;
the clouds were as low and black as ever, the night as
dark as the fabled realms of Pluto, and the rain still
falling. Which way to go I did not know; but any
way seemed better than sitting down or standing still
—although every step I took caused me to remember
the rough journey I had made at the heels of the horse
which had since borne me hither; and so, after some
debate with myself, I turned to the left, which led
down the stream, and continued to walk very slowly

for something like an hour, keeping the roaring river
within hearing.

I was thus proceeding carefully, and thinking of
poor Varney, and what a state of excitement would
follow his discovery of my loss, when my foot struck
against some object, which seemed to spring away
from it. Surprised and alarmed, I made a quick
backward step; but at the same moment my legs
were seized, and jerked from under me; and as I came
heavily to the earth, a hoarse voice said:

“White or red? yelp her out! afore I let daylight
clean through ye!”