For a short time, he became somewhat quieter; but as the blue-coats did not busy themselves in punishing him, he had again plucked up courage, and since the Pah-ute troubles had anew commenced, was, once more, on the war-trail.
Harry Arnold had already called the Buckskin Rangers together, and they had determined upon starting for the purpose, if possible, of completely exterminating Smoke-creek Sam and his gang of cut-throats.My presence in Susanville was speedily known by them, and I was unanimously called to take my position as the leader in this expedition.
The second honey-moon of my one marriage was, therefore, brought to an end, or, rather, indefinitely deferred. It had, most certainly, scarcely begun, unless the commencement of such an agreeable period of life may be supposed to take place in the saddle, and in flight from a party of hostile Indians.
Short time was allowed me to make my wife as comfortable as the exigencies of the moment permitted. The little woman submitted to them like a veritable heroine.
In something less than an hour, we were on our way to the spot where the murders had taken place. While going, we were joined by two companies of soldiers, ordered out for the same purpose. Captain Knight was in command of them; and shortly after we had passed Summit Lake, and reached the place where Fort Warner now stands, I touched on a fresh Indian trail.
My readers will not be unlikely to inquire how in the dry season of the year, when the cracked and parched earth takes no footprint, I was able to discern it. A small pebble here and there, freshly turned over, or a few stones formed into a sign for other red-skins, either to tell the day of the month on which they passed,[1]orindicate the period of the year, are more than sufficient to the ordinary scout and trapper. In this case the first sign of a trail had been sufficient for me. It was clear that a very large number of the red-skins were in front of us, and, very certainly, scarcely as much as twelve hours ahead.
Consequently I sent Arnold up the side of the mountain, to see whether the red-skins might not be still in our neighborhood.
The Rangers were on foot, and I and Harry had been in advance of them. As I now continued, Captain Knight overtook me, almost immediately after I had been joined by Brighton Bill and most of the other boys.
"They say, Mose, you are on the trail?"
"So I am, Captain."
"I can see nothing!"
"Perhaps not. It needs quick eyes to follow this one."
"If there really is one," he said sharply.
His tone was not the most agreeably confiding possible, and I raised my eyes from the ground on which they had hitherto been fixed, to contemplate him, when Bill inquired:
"'Ow long, Cap, was hit since the blamed cusses went by 'ere?"
"From four to six hours. Possibly, something more," was my answer.
The officer gave utterance to a low and very dubious whistle, which unmistakably suggested a disbelief in the authority Bill had appealed to. On hearing it the Ranger's bronzed face flushed, and he turned on the captain, exclaiming:
"What hin 'ell do you know habout hit? Hi'll bet my bottom dollar, Mose hain't made no mistake."
"Well, my lads," said Knight, who, I must do him justice, immediately saw the mistake he had made, "go ahead, if you feel so confoundedly sure of the rascals."
"In course we are," put in Butch'. "You just leave Mose alone, and we'll have their hair, afore night."
By this time, Arnold had rejoined us. He had as yet seen nothing. Leaving him, therefore, to follow the trail, I went up the mountain to try my luck. As I reached its summit, and cast a careless glance down the other side, which was bare of timber, I caught sight of what I believed must be our Indians. Some juniper trees concealed me. Descending a few paces on the side where I had left the boys, I swung my hat. They understood my meaning and came to a halt. Arnold and Painter very soon joined me, and carefully concealing our movements, we crept again to the summit. As they coincided with me, we immediately returned to our party.
Upon informing Captain Knight of what we had seen, he condescended to express his gratification, and immediately ordered his men to continue the trail we had hitherto been pursuing, and follow the red-skins round the far side of the mountain.
On my venturing to suggest that he had better send only a portion of his men up the valley, he inquired what reason induced me to advise such a division of his command.
"All the red devils are smart enough, Captain! Smoke-creek Sam is 'cuter than every Yankee pedler rolled into one, if that one had been between Honey Lake and the Humboldt for the last five years."
"Well! What if he is?"
"He's sure to smell us out. But if you will give me part of your men, I will take them with my boys across the mountain. Between us, not a red-skin shall escape."
"That's so, Captain!" said Harry Arnold, emphatically. "Mose gives good advice."
Whether or no Harry's opinion was so little flattering to his own judgment or not, that he was riled by the preference given to my counsel, modestly as it had been offered him, I am unable to say. With an obstinacy which may be a good thing in regular war, but is surely the reverse of it in following Indians, he would neither abandon his previous determination, nor give me one of his men. He, indeed, did all but order me to continue with him.
My back was now up. To his astonishment he found out that I was to the full as—perhaps, even more determined to have my own way in a matter I thoroughly understood, than he was. Possibly, although I do not like to venture such an opinion touching any of Uncle Sam's servants, he may have had no wish to catch the red-skins. In entertaining such a disinclination, he would only be imitating too closely the general policy of our respected relative.
Whatever his wish may have been, I ordered the boys to their saddles, and leaving him, struck a long cañon we had recently passed, which led us almost to the spot on which the Indians had just been sighted, whom Arnold and Ben Painter as well as myself believed to be the Smoke-creek gang. When we reached the valley in which they were, we found ourselves immediately ahead of the course they were taking.
No sooner had they spotted our party, which it was easy to do, in a tract of country almost entirely bare of foliage of any description, than they came to a halt.
We were yet far beyond rifle-range, and I actually thought they were going to give us the chance of a fair and square stand-up fight.
True, however, to their invariable character, the red men thought twice upon the matter. Turning from us they started up the valley, in the direction Knight's command was coming. However, they did not continue their retreat (it was a tolerably rapid one, as our pursuit also was) for more than a mile. Here they plunged into a rocky gorge on their left. Fancying that they might intend drawing the Rangers into a trap, I sent Brighton Bill and four others up the right side of the gorge, which was the most precipitous. Ben Painter, and some half-dozen more, were told to mount the other side. My directions were that they should advance as quickly as was possible, so that they might be able to head the party we were pursuing. It was fortunate that the ground presented tolerably rough travelling for horses, or, as they had necessarily dismounted, it would have been impossible for them to do this.
After pursuing the uneven and broken track in the centre of the gorge for a considerable length, perhaps some three-quarters of a mile, it turned suddenly to the right.
Here it formed a deep and irregular basin, from which there was only one means of escape.
This was a narrow and rocky defile, running up the steep side of the cañon. As they saw us behind them, they endeavored to mount this.
Bill, and the boys who were with him, had, however,moved too quickly. Scarcely had they entered the defile, than he administered them a sharp warning to retreat.
Astounded by the totally unexpected warmth with which they had been saluted, they faced round, with the intention of fighting their way through their pursuers.
Upon reaching the bend of the gorge, at which it widened into this basin, Ben's party received them with a round volley.
The red-skins now knew they were fairly trapped, and drawing back into the basin, commenced, with the fragments of rock, to pile up a rude sort of breastwork. As the boys were dismounting for active business, a blue-coat suddenly appeared upon the scene. The soldiers had reached the mouth of the gorge, and Captain Knight had despatched him to find out what the firing he had heard, meant.
It must be owned, this was a sufficiently curious question. As Arnold not unnaturally asked the sergeant, who addressed it to me:
"What the devil could it mean?"
I replied even more sharply:
"You can see for yourself. If the Captain wishes to look at a little real Indian fighting, he's got a chance."
Time and words were, at this moment, too valuable for me to waste any more of them. I again turned to the work on hand, and the blue-coat rode back. It may be suspected he was glad enough to do so, as Indian bullets and arrows were at the time rather lively. We were left to finish the affair, without the slightest assistance from the paid servants of Uncle Sam. As we subsequently had reason to know, this was not, however,owing to any want of courage on the part of Captain Knight. His men had proved too cowardly to lend us a hand. They did not relish exposing themselves to the Indians. Neither the angry commands nor threatening appeals of their indignant officer could in any way induce them to give us an effective support.
Wrathful as we not unnaturally felt, we had no opportunity at the instant of discussing the matter with that righteous amount of Buncombe, which is, in similar cases, so gratifying to the average American mind.
It should be mentioned, nevertheless, that one of the boys became fearfully disgusted with the conduct of his paid protectors.
Indeed, Mart Gilbert, for such was his name, jumped from behind the mass of rock under which he was crouching. In his rage he actually executed an indignantpas seul, as I should in my earlier years have styled it, in the very face of the enemy. While displaying his maniacal agility, he roared out for any "darned red skunk" to show himself and fight him. None of those to whom he addressed himself, however, displayed any wish to accept his invitation. But, naturally enough, they thought they had an excellent chance afforded them for picking him off. A regular storm of bullets and arrows rang and whistled round him.
Fortune generally seems to have a sympathy with madness.
It certainly had so in this instance. Not one of these missiles even scraped his body. And before a second volley could be discharged at him, with, in all probability, a more successful result for the red-skins, Painter had crept to a point from which he could rake them a second time. This volley was delivered at short rangeand, as an officer of the regular army might say, destroyed theirmorale. As Ben subsequently thought proper to say, in a more vernacular phrase than I choose at present to employ, it impaired their digestion.
Seeing the disorder into which they were thrown, I gave the boys the order to advance.
My words were not quite rapid enough. The boys Brighton Bill had with him were once more in a position available for following the example those with Painter had set them.
Demoralized as they were by the second volley, the red-skins nevertheless exhibited what Saxons denominate pluck, and made a furious rush upon the main body of their assailants, meeting us about half-way up to their breastworks. Our work was now short and thorough.
Harry and myself had not dismounted. He was a capital horseman, and rode in Comanche style, better even than I did. It was in this fashion that he approached an old Indian who was literally hailing his arrows at us, and shot him from under the neck of his horse. Ridding his hand of the revolver which was attached to his wrist by a strap, he rushed the animal past his prostrate enemy, and took his scalp very neatly, almost at the same instant recovering his seat.
The red-skin, however, although dropped by Arnold's shot, very evidently disapproved of the loss of his hair. Raising himself from the ground, precisely at the moment when the former reappeared above the back of his horse, he let fly another arrow.
This struck Harry in the back of the neck, immediately behind the vertebral bones, passing directly through it for more than half its length.
No time was given the Indian for another shot, as I was sufficiently near to settle him.
"I say, Mose! lend me a hand."
On looking round, I could not forbear laughing. The manner in which the arrow had passed through Arnold's neck compelled him to protrude his head in front of him in such a strangely quaint fashion. Mirth would have been compulsory, even in one at the point of death.
Of course, while laughing, I had pulled out the unpleasant addition to his muscular anatomy.
Upon counting the bodies of the dead, we found seventeen. The remainder of the party had managed to effect an escape.
After this we returned to the mouth of the gorge, where we did not find Captain Knight and the blue-coats waiting for us. We felt considerably mortified by the fact, that although the slain red-skins might have been a portion of Smoke-creek Sam's band, he himself was, as decidedly, not amongst them.
FOOTNOTE:[1]These stones are ranged in a circle or semicircle, to indicate the quarter of the moon. Within these, the number of fragments of rock calendars the number of days from it. Other signs tell whether these indications are left by a war or hunting party, and how many of them there are. There are, besides, other marks, which tell whether the deer is in the velvet and all the changes it is subject to, which are invaluable to the hunter who is able to read them.
[1]These stones are ranged in a circle or semicircle, to indicate the quarter of the moon. Within these, the number of fragments of rock calendars the number of days from it. Other signs tell whether these indications are left by a war or hunting party, and how many of them there are. There are, besides, other marks, which tell whether the deer is in the velvet and all the changes it is subject to, which are invaluable to the hunter who is able to read them.
[1]These stones are ranged in a circle or semicircle, to indicate the quarter of the moon. Within these, the number of fragments of rock calendars the number of days from it. Other signs tell whether these indications are left by a war or hunting party, and how many of them there are. There are, besides, other marks, which tell whether the deer is in the velvet and all the changes it is subject to, which are invaluable to the hunter who is able to read them.
Another Attempt at a Honey-moon—Learning and Loving—Two Unexpected Recruits—Plenty of Work to Do—A Few of the Saints—What a Pity He is not an Indian—Sighting the Enemy—Freezing Weather—Some Clever Generalship—The Fight in the River—A Narrow Escape—Destroying Supplies—A Little Mining—Home Again.
Another Attempt at a Honey-moon—Learning and Loving—Two Unexpected Recruits—Plenty of Work to Do—A Few of the Saints—What a Pity He is not an Indian—Sighting the Enemy—Freezing Weather—Some Clever Generalship—The Fight in the River—A Narrow Escape—Destroying Supplies—A Little Mining—Home Again.
On returning to Susanville, I had the satisfaction of resuming my interrupted honey-moon, and learning from my wife in our lovingly long talks together, much about my friends, which no letter is ever voluminous enough to tell. To say the truth, letters are nothing but the headings of the chapters of life, condensed according to the peculiar temperament of the writer. Sometimes, they give scarcely any idea of the real contents. Not infrequently, they afford an unqualifiedly false index to that which they are in a measure supposed to represent.
Moreover, she was far more of a woman than she had been. Self-dependence had in a measure changed her, as my life on the frontier had altered me.
I had to re-study her nature, as she very certainly had to re-learn mine.
There were many moments when, in spite of her love I caught her studying my face as if she was scarcely able to realize how completely the crude civilization of frontier-life had warped mine, for the better or the worse. While I, as frequently, detected myself wondering at the change a few years of absence had madein the girl I had loved well enough to tie myself to for life.
Yet, I believe, the change was not an unpleasant one to either of us. At least, I may safely affirm that it was not so to me.
The summer and great portion of the autumn passed but too quickly. Some few weeks of them had been spent with the boys at our mining claims on the Humboldt. Nor were we, on the whole, unsuccessful, having made a tolerably fair pile, in reward for our labor. When the autumn was nearly over, my companions went up the river as far as Gravelly Ford, with the intention of pitching their camp there for the winter. This was with the purpose of hunting and trapping. I had to keep the agreement already made with Colonel Connor. After leaving my pet bear, Charley, in the care of Butch', with whom he was almost as friendly as he was with me, I, therefore, again rejoined my wife for a brief time, while I commenced my preparations.
These were prolonged until the last moment, when I was astonished by a visit from Harry Arnold and Brighton Bill, whom I had left scarcely more than a week since at Gravelly Ford. In my surprise I asked:
"What, in the name of Heaven! brings you back here?"
"Can't you guess, Mose?" Harry asked.
"Has anything happened?"
"Nothing particular."
This was the reply of the previous speaker, as Bill added, with his peculiarly British pronunciation:
"We've made h'up hour minds to pull h'up stakes and join you."
"What do you really mean?"
The question was far from an unnatural one. My engagement with the Colonel had been repeatedly talked over with the boys when they were present. Neither of them, up to this time, had displayed the slightest indication of a desire to accompany me.
"To henlist with hour Cap!" exclaimed Bill.
"That's exactly what we mean."
I was but too glad to have them with me, and felt sure Connor would be even more pleased. A few hours were sufficient for them to get ready, and on the following morning the three of us quitted Susanville.
For some hours after leaving it, I felt as I had never before done, when starting on any expedition. The tear-blurred eyes of my wife kept painting themselves before me. It must be remembered how long we had been separated from each other, and how recently, for the second time, we had again commenced married life. Even the gay jests of Arnold, and the coarser, but equally well-meant consolation of Brighton Bill, failed to restore my usually blithe spirits until the noon was long past.
Movement and action, however, possess a large degree of comfort in them.
By this time I had recovered my equanimity, and on the following day I was as gay as either of them. Nothing of note beyond the common everyday occurrences of travel of this class occurred while we were on our road, until we reached Egan Cañon. Here we met some of Connor's men, who had been stationed there to protect the Overland stages. Thence we passed through Camp Floyd to Stockton, where we found the Colonel's command encamped near a small lake. Both he and Major Gallagher welcomed me in the most cordialmanner. On presenting my two companions, whose names were well known to both of them, this cordiality was greatly increased.
"I knew we had secured one good man when we got you to join us," said Connor. "But I little thought you would bring us two more, as good as yourself."
He then informed us that we might take things as easily as we chose for the next few days, after which, he quietly said, he trusted to give us plenty of work. Arnold replied:
"The more of it, Colonel, the better."
The hearty readiness with which this answer was made, seemed to please him very much. When, shortly after, he left us, I heard him say to Gallagher:
"We are in luck, Major!"
Nor can I be charged with undue vanity, in supposing his congratulatory sentence referred to myself and my two companions.
We necessarily resigned ourselves to the comfort or discomfort, as man chooses to consider it, of doing nothing for the following week, or somewhat less. One morning, however, we were startled by a visit from the notorious Port Rockwell, Bill Hickman, Lot Smith, and others of the so-called Mormon Danites. Why they came was, of course, none of our business. Yet, we had heard too much of them to fail in examining them closely, and I am free to own I was not too deeply impressed by the sanctity of their appearance. The greater portion of them were, however, pretty muscular examples of saintship, and exhibited, what I always supposed they would, considerable oiliness as a veneer to their even less pure and peaceable proclivities. While we were inspecting them, I could not refrain fromasking Arnold what he thought of them. He delayed a minute or two in making his reply, and Brighton Bill improved the occasion by propounding to me in a solemn, and exceedingly audible voice, the following query:
"H'i say, Mose! 'ave they h'all ha dozen wives h'apiece?"
"I suppose so, Bill," I replied with a quiet smile.
"'Eaven take care of 'em!" he ejaculated with a mournful air of pity.
"What? of these fellows?"
"No! Mose! H'of the poor lambs that hare tied hup to such ha blamed lot of Turks. H'if Hi had my will with the blackguards, Hi'd lock 'em hup, hin the Hold Bailey, or," he added reflectively, as if he feared I might not understand the character of the place he had alluded to, "four prison-walls for the 'ole of their life."
My companion had announced his views, with regard to the Danites, in tones which were something too loud. They were very evidently heard by Bill Hickman, who turned to look at him. As he did so, Harry for the first time spoke in a voice whose pitch was decidedly intended to reach the saintly ears.
"A truly delightful face, Mose!"
"Do you think so?"
"How I wish he was a red-skin!"
"Blamed hif you h'arn't right, Hank!" cried Bill, "'ow neat you could track and wipe 'im hout."
The part of this conversation which had been audible to Hickman, could scarcely have been highly agreeable.
Very certainly, I never saw a more diabolical scowl spread over any face, than did over his. It was, however, no very great length of time before they left us.
"I would scarcely advise you, Harry! to come in St. Hickman's way," I remarked when they were quitting the camp, "without having your revolver quite ready."
"I don't intend to, Mose!" he replied, with a sharp laugh.
Some two days after this, Colonel Connor detailed me to accompany a detachment under the command of Lieutenant Ether, up through the Bear River country. Arnold was assigned to another, which was to take the road through Ogden Cañon, while a third was provided with Brighton Bill as a guide, and were to go in the direction of Goose Creek and the City of Rocks. The two parties were to meet near Soda Springs.
Our detachment had only been out for a few days,[2]when I, who was a long way in advance, sighted a large body of Indians. Necessarily I fell back, and reported this to the officer in command. He immediately sent information of this to Colonel Connor. Afterwards, I heard that the two other parties had made a similar discovery, and sent him intelligence to the same effect. He immediately ordered his whole command to march towards Bear River, having sent instructions to the remaining detachments. The interval which elapsed before he joined us, was passed by me in keeping a keen look-out for the Indians. From the very first, I had seen that the colonel was a widely different class of officer from any of the servants of Uncle Sam I had yet met. If he meant business, it would be a pity to balk good intentions, and it should not be my fault if he failed to have plenty of it. Consequently, I did notfeel disposed to let the red-skins slip, from my neglect to keep my eyes wide open.
No sooner had he joined us and received my daily reports from Lieutenant Ether, as well as the last one from myself, than he, in person, made areconnoissance.
The result was, that he came to the conclusion already formed by me, that the Indians were concentrating their forces on Bear River.
It was in the dead of winter, and the temperature was intensely cold. The soldiers were suffering dreadfully, and but for the kindness and precaution of their colonel for them, many must have been lost or have perished by their exposure. He was a very strict disciplinarian. There was, however, not one of his men who did not love him the better for an inflexibility which was equally resolute in as far as possible providing for their comfort. This case was clearly one of necessity. If the Indians moved in this bitterly freezing weather, his men were obliged to move also. Nor did he shrink from sharing their sufferings and labors.
Consequently, on the following morning we started early on our way up the river, continuing until we were within ten miles of the Soda Springs.
Here, we saw the red-skins encamped in a strong position on the other side of the stream. It was almost a natural fortification, being protected by a deep cañon and huge rocks. While we were advancing, they fired on us. Their shots, however, failed. We were out of the range of their guns. Colonel Connor's dispositions for the attack were simple in the extreme, but very masterly. He ordered one party up the river to occupy a bluff which projected into it. Another was sent down the stream to take their position on the bank whichcommanded it, at no very great distance. The fire from either spot commanded the passage of the river.
When these two points were held, he ordered the main body to ford the stream, still keeping a portion of his force in reserve.
Bitterly cold as the water was, and as I found it, the soldiers did not evince the faintest shadow of hesitation when he gave the word.
Up to this moment, I believe the red-skins did not believe that Connor would attack them. Scarcely unreasonably, they counted too much upon their past experiences with Uncle Sam's blue-coats. In the present case, the blue-coats were tarred with a widely different brush. They had barely seen us in the river, than a rolling series of yells and whoops broke from them, which it would be utterly useless for words to attempt giving any idea of. The wall of icily chill water they had counted on to secure the front of their camp was useless. They had to fight, and dashed into the stream to drive back the enemy. Not more than one minute had they plunged into the freezing water, than from the bank and bluff rang out the rifles of the men Connor had posted there.
It was a terrible discharge, and drove them back. As they found themselves on dry earth, our gallant fellows followed them.
Dripping with the water, which would have frozen on them, but for the savagely fierce passion of that terribly mad struggle—shooting, clubbing, knifing, with the shouts and yells of actual devils—never do I believe a more bitter strife, considering its numbers, has been seen on any battle-field. It took two hours of hard fighting for us to completely rout them. This is thefirst time I have ever applied such a term to the defeat of a body of red-skins, simply because it is the first time in which I ever saw them really stand up and fight.
Often enough they slay when their numbers are fifteen to one, or are slain if the proportion chances to be an inferior one. It is, nevertheless, very rarely that they resist an open attack. This, more especially when it is made by any force which, in number, approaches their own.
When the last living Indian had fled, orders had been given us to destroy their supplies. There were several tons of dried meats, Government bacon, sugar, with no inconsiderable amount of whiskey and United States blankets, besides tobacco and other articles of native luxury. The red rascals had evidently a good commissariat, and had provided themselves for what they imagined would be a lengthy campaign. We also found a large quantity of powder. This we rolled into the river, and burned the rest.
In the meantime, our men who had not been employed in this necessary task, had been reckoning those who had been killed.
About one hundred and nineteen dead bodies were, I believe, counted in all.
The effects of the battle of Bear River were for the time decisive in pacifying this section of the country, and compelling the Indians in the whole neighborhood to remain quiet. And, may I not here, in all proper humility, ask our Government why it does not constantly employ such men as Colonel Connor to enforce peace upon the red-skins. Let it give us an Indian Bureau in the Cabinet. Place it in the control of sucha man as General Sheridan, General Cook, or other almost equally able military men, whose names will readily suggest themselves to the reader. Give this Bureau unchecked authority to deal with the red man. It will sweep away the whole race of thieving Indian agents, and save the country many a dollar, as well as many a more valuable life which at present would seem to represent no positive value to the Government of the United States.
Perhaps, I should mention the narrow escape the officer, whose detachment I had been detailed to accompany on its advance in this direction, had, during the battle.
It was well nigh over. He was on the summit of a small ridge of rock which jutted from the eastern side of the camping-ground, when a red-skin fired on him, scarcely from a distance of some twenty yards. The ball missed Ether, but grazed the cheek of Hughey Greer, a private who was close to him. Wheeling round, Greer saw the Indian and took him between the eyes with a shot from his revolver, killing him instantly. Greer subsequently received promotion.
Naturally enough, the results of this victory enabled the Colonel to dispense with my services, although he would willingly have retained me longer with him. Shortly after, Arnold, Brighton Bill, and myself, therefore started for Idaho City, with the intention of again trying our luck in mining. We located a placer or claim on Bannock Bar, just above the Marion Moore claim. This turned out very favorably. After working it for nearly two months, we sold it to Henry Allen for a fairly round price, and determined upon making our return to Honey Lake.
FOOTNOTE:[2]During our absence, Colonel Connor established Camp Douglas, a few miles from Salt Lake City. It was on a rising ground, and very thoroughly commanded the Mormon capital.
[2]During our absence, Colonel Connor established Camp Douglas, a few miles from Salt Lake City. It was on a rising ground, and very thoroughly commanded the Mormon capital.
[2]During our absence, Colonel Connor established Camp Douglas, a few miles from Salt Lake City. It was on a rising ground, and very thoroughly commanded the Mormon capital.
Off to the New Mines—"God's Country"—A Shower of Sparks—The Cheyenne Maiden—Seeing is Believing—A Sharp Wail—Behind the Brush—The Leap like a Wild-cat—The Effect of Unpalatable News—Evading Cross-questioning—Three Days' Fighting—The Enemy Preparing for Victory—Advice from Experience—Two Brave Fellows—Bacon-fat and a Knife—Waiting and Hoping.
Off to the New Mines—"God's Country"—A Shower of Sparks—The Cheyenne Maiden—Seeing is Believing—A Sharp Wail—Behind the Brush—The Leap like a Wild-cat—The Effect of Unpalatable News—Evading Cross-questioning—Three Days' Fighting—The Enemy Preparing for Victory—Advice from Experience—Two Brave Fellows—Bacon-fat and a Knife—Waiting and Hoping.
But we were destined not to return as quietly as we had proposed doing. Upon our arrival at Boice City, we were induced to join a company who were going to Jordan Creek for the purpose of prospecting. It had been made up by Jeff Stanaford and another man of the name of Jennings. After depositing our gold-dust, therefore, with Wells, Fargo and Company, one of whose branch-offices was in this place, we started with our new acquaintances for the spot named, which Stanaford asserted from his own personal knowledge, was very rich.
All told, our party numbered some twenty-seven men well armed and provided.
When some three or four days out, we camped at noon, about four o'clock, on a small rocky knoll, from the summit of which a deliciously clear and cool spring was oozing. Round the rise of this knoll there was excellent pasturage for our horses, and stretching beyond this on every side was a level plain, broken up with small sage-brush. At night-fall, our horses were brought in and picketed close to the spring. No suspicion of the slightest danger was entertained by us. Indeed, weall of us slept soundly during the first part of the night, save Jennings, who was on the watch.
Some three hour's before dawn, however, I became restless, and my slumbers were broken. A feeling of impending danger seemed to present itself to me, which I was unable to shake off.
Sitting up, I looked around. The night was as dark as pitch. Nothing could be seen by me, save the forms stretched upon the grass by the dying embers of the camp-fire, which scarcely gave light enough to detect them. I, however, managed to make out the figure of Jennings, who was sitting on the ground at a little distance. He was leaning forward upon his rifle, and was, I at once felt certain, fast asleep.
Possibly somewhat annoyed by this carelessness, I had caught up one of the half-extinguished brands from the fire, and was about hurling it at him, when I felt a light hand touch my shoulder.
The brand fell from my grasp as I rapidly turned, and the scattering sparks thrown from its burning end showed me a face which, since I had first looked on it, had never entirely passed from my memory.
How it was, my lips did not give utterance to a cry of astonishment, it is now, as it would have been then, impossible for me to say.
There were the superbly dark eyes, whose eloquence of expression I had never forgotten. There was that wealthy mass of raven hair, which had crowned the head of the Cheyenne maiden, for whom I had so nearly thrust from me the memory of the little woman I had left behind me in the East, or "God's country," as so many of the settlers and trappers call it.
It was Clo-ke-ta.
As she moved slowly away, I rose to my feet and followed her.
I seemed to be in a dream.
All I remember is, that the sleeper near me, on my right, stirred. My movement had startled him. He, nevertheless, did not wake.
Pausing for an instant where the horses were picketed, I once more heard her voice.
Although in a whisper, it was riper, fuller and more womanly than when it last sounded on my ears.
"Let my brother take his horse."
"Why should he do so?" I asked in a tone no louder than hers had been.
"My brother must have many miles between himself and this place, before the dawn."
"And why?"
"Clo-ke-ta's master"—the intonation of this epithet was scornful, and, as it seemed to me, full of regret, which she disdained suppressing—"has his braves gathered around."
"Is Clo-ke-ta, then, married?"
I could not help the passionate inflexion with which I framed this whisper. For the moment, I had not only forgotten the wife who had so recently joined me, but the very information the Cheyenne woman had just given me.
"The daughter of Par-a-wau could not go childless to the grave."
"Certainly not," I answered mechanically.
My memory had bridged the intervening years between the present and the time when the parent of Clo-ke-ta, as well as Old Spotted Tail, had done me the honor of wishing to enroll me as a Cheyenne chief.
"Will my brother do as Clo-ke-ta has bidden him?"
The impatience of the request was more like her father's manner and voice than anything she had yet said. It recalled me to the life of my present.
"And who is Clo-ke-ta's husband?"
"A Bannock chief."
"The Indians from whom I am then to fly are the Bannocks?"
"My brother is right."
"Does not Clo-ke-ta know that the braves with her brother are numerous."
"The Bannocks who are waiting for the dawn, number more than the leaves of the sage-brush my brother has seen, before he laid himself down to rest."
Figurative as the expression was, there was no mistaking its significance. We were decidedly in for it, if her words were true, in even the thousandth or ten-thousandth part of her somewhat extensive style of reckoning the forces of our enemy. However, my experience of the Indian character for veracity had greatly modified the faith which, when I first knew her, I might have placed in her words. Considering our former relations, it would seem to be a matter of difficulty to make her understand this. But life in the hills and plains of the West considerably impairs sentimental delicacy in conversation, even with one whom a man had so narrowly escaped from wedding, as I had her. After a brief pause, I said:
"What the white man sees, he believes."
"What says my brother?"
"Let Clo-ke-ta prove her words, to his eyes!"
"The white chief does not think Clo-ke-ta has told him the truth!"
Her whisper was shapen so contemptuously that, at the moment, I could almost have bitten out my tongue in wrath at what it had given breath to. However, it was of importance that I should know whether her information had been exaggerated or not. I consequently replied:
"He does not."
Her fingers were laid upon my arm with an imperative gesture, as she whispered in a tone where scorn and affection were curiously blended:
"Let the white chief follow Clo-ke-ta. But his feet must be as light as the first leaf the autumn wind strews upon the plain."
As her last word fell upon my ear, she glided away from me. Nor was it without some difficulty I kept my sight upon her undulating form, as my steps sped noiselessly after.
We must have covered some eight hundred yards, or possibly less, when she pointed a little to my right, in advance of the spot we had reached. There I saw the struggling light of a small camp-fire, carefully smothered down with the torn-up roots of sage-brush, as I concluded, and could just make out the forms of the slumbering red-skins around it. Still further on the right I caught the faint glow of another. To the left, I could just make out two more; the farthest of these was so distant, that it was no larger, although less defined, than the flash of the fire-flies I had been accustomed to watch round my home in Galena, even earlier than the period at which I commenced this history of my adventures. As I turned towards her again, she said in a lower voice even than she had previously adopted:
"My brother has sharp eyes."
"He has."
"Does he now believe what Clo-ke-ta has told him?"
Does my brother now believe
"'Does my brother now believe what Clo-ke-ta has told him?'"—Page 222.
"Yes."
"And he will listen to her counsel?"
"He cannot."
"Why?"
"He is a white brave."
"Clo-ke-ta knows it."
"The red man might run away, by himself. Who would call him a coward?"
"His tribe would—"
She commenced thus, indignantly. Then she saw the error she was committing, and broke short off, as I continued:
"Without those who are with him can fly too, the white brave must remain."
A single sharp wail of grief rose from her lips. As it did so, I threw myself upon the ground and speedily commenced crawling back as rapidly as I could, to the camp.
Such a cry was enough to arouse every sleeping Bannock who might be within earshot of her, and quicken them to my presence.
One glance I cast upon her, before the darkness blotted her out from my sight. She was standing erect and motionless, and it appeared to me that she made a gesture with one of her arms as if to quicken my movements. There was no need for her to do so. The necessity for my reaching my friends was too obvious. Unless I was detected, she would be safe.
Already I had covered half the distance between the place, where I had paused with her, and our camp, when I rested for a moment. It was an almost compulsorypause. The speed with which my retreat had been commenced, and the position in which it had been made, had for the moment taken away my breath. There was now also, in the darkness, no absolute necessity for my continuing my creeping posture. I had, therefore, half risen to my feet, when I caught the rapid sound of Indian footsteps. A red-skin was behind me.
Remaining upon my knee, I drew my knife, and listened. There was, evidently, only one who had disbelieved what Clo-ke-ta might have said. Possibly, although this is very unlikely, one only may have been awakened by her wail.
Had there been more than the one, I might have used my revolver, for the purpose of alarming the boys. If I had done so, it must have brought out the rest of the red devils. We had need of time for consultation. Could I get rid of my pursuer, without giving him the chance for one dying whoop, we should, at least, have this.
A clump of sage-brush would have hidden me from the rapidly approaching Indian, even had the dawn been already breaking.
He could only have fancied he heard my stealthy flight, as I knew I heard his rapidly approaching tread.
Now he was close to the sage-brush, behind which I was kneeling. An instant after, a dark figure, relieved against the comparatively lighter sky, is passing it. His limbs nearly touch me.
One leap, like that of a wild-cat, has fastened me upon him.
Fortunately my left hand has clutched him by thethroat. He struggles desperately, and attempts to shout. My knife was, however, ready.
In less than half a minute, all was over.
When I re-climbed the knoll, I found the boys already stirring. The wailing cry of Clo-ke-ta had aroused Arnold, who, finding me absent, had awakened the rest. Jennings could tell them nothing of my absence. Brighton Bill had proposed to Harry a search for me. The latter, however, saw that until the morning had broken, any such search must be worse than useless.
"And here are Mose, by Heaven!" ejaculated Jennings.
He rounded off his sentence with a fearful oath of delight, as by the light of the camp-fire, which had been heaped with fresh brush, he was the first to recognize me. Without a word, I was trampling out the flame, in which attempt I was assisted by Bill, who had a profound faith in my sagacity, and would, I firmly believe, have lent me a hand in cutting Harry Arnold's throat, had I thought proper to do so. When the affair had been accomplished, he would probably have inquired my reason for such a bloody proceeding, but not until then.
"What on airth! are yer about?" roared Stanaford. "Can't yer leave the fire alone?"
"Mose must have a sufficient reason," said Arnold. "Wait 'till he tells it to you."
"Hingins!" was Bill's suggestive explanation.
"Wall! aren't we enough for 'em?"
"Scarcely!" I answered. Then I added, as I trampled out the last burning embers with my heel, "they are all around us."
"How many?" inquired Arnold.
"I cannot tell, yet," was my reply, given with what, could it have been seen by him, was a grim smile. "Probably, some two hundred and fifty."
"Yer can't mean it!" exclaimed Jennings.
"Boys!" I then said, "we are in the tightest fix I have yet been in. They are Bannocks, and the Bannocks will fight, as you all know."
"How do you know what they are?" inquired Arnold.
A flush stole over my face as I delayed to answer. Had there been sufficient light to have detected it, I might have been exposed to an awkward cross-questioning. However, I replied:
"By taking one of their scalps."
This was a possible reason, although by no means a probable one, save in the case of an old Indian fighter. Nevertheless, it answered the purpose, for the announcement that we were, as it turned out afterwards, actually besieged by a large body of red warriors, was by no means adapted to raise the spirits of the men who were listening. Indeed, those of many of them dropped to zero.
Little more of the ordinary talk in a miner's camp was likely to pass between us, during the remainder of the night. It would not, however, be long for us to wait until the morning light verified my words. None of us cared about attempting again to sleep. We watched impatiently until the day broke. Then it was discovered that I had greatly under-estimated the number of the enemy. Although unable to reckon them, precisely, there were certainly more than five hundred red-skins waiting to raise our hair.
When we realized our position, we saw that thecontest against such odds must be almost a hopeless one. We consequently determined upon selling our lives as dearly as possible.
The first day passed in a succession of charges upon the knoll by the red rascals, broken by their repulse, and intervals of rest for us, following each separate attack. Our position was, by good luck, a remarkably strong one, and in these intervals we succeeded in greatly strengthening it. With our shovels and picks we tore up huge fragments of rock, with which we built ourselves breastworks, and excavated trenches for our own security, from which we could pick off the advancing Bannocks, whenever they indulged themselves in a charge.
At first, it somewhat puzzled me how Clo-ke-ta had learned of my being here. But my name, as well as those of Arnold and Brighton Bill, had become tolerably well-known among the Indians in the section of country around Susanville, and I at last concluded that it was known that all three of us were with the party. If so, the reason for these comparatively dilatory attacks was obvious. A prudent fear of exposing themselves to our unerring aim, kept them from resolutely putting an end to the matter.
During the whole of the ensuing night, a sharp look-out was kept up. None of our guards, who were regularly relieved at stated intervals, slept as Jennings had done on the preceding one.
Early on the following day, their Mahalas, or squaws, began to clear off a piece of ground beyond the range of our rifles. It was in vain, I attempted to recognize the form of Clo-ke-ta among them. Possibly she did not share their labors, although it is more than probablethe distance prevented my sight from distinguishing her. While I was watching this operation, interesting not only to me but the rest of us, from its too evident intention, Brighton Bill said:
"Ha blamed pretty sight, hain't hit, Mose?"
"You know what it's for, then?" I could not help asking him.
"Hin course Hi do. H'it's ha kind hof theayter where the blamed Hingins mean to torture h'us."
"If they catch us, Bill!"
"They will have hus, sooner h'or later, that's sartain."
"They had me once, Bill. But while I have a knife, they shall never have me again."
"Hi'm blowed, Mose, hif you hare'nt right. Hi'll tell 'Ank, hand 'e and Hi will take care we're not roasted halive, too."
"You will be doing wisely."
After the Mahalas had picked the spot which had been selected as clear of sage-brush and rocks, as the back of a child's hand, they reared their rude and disgusting banners around it. Their design was perfectly clear. They intended to starve us out and take us prisoners. While we were discussing the probabilities of this, however, one of the Bannocks approached a little too near. It was a somewhat long shot, yet Arnold succeeded in dropping him. This excited the rest to fury, and they charged upon us with such a roar of whoops and yells, as seemed to be a perfect Pandemonium. Never have I, before or since, listened to such a devil's Babel. We shot two of them during the attack, which was repeated, again and again, during the remainder of the day. Its result occasionally varied. But on each attack they paid for it in something the same ratio.
On this afternoon they received reinforcements, and on the next morning their numbers again heavily increased. Arnold, indeed, calculated that there must, on the third morning, have been more than twelve hundred red-skins surrounding us.
Some discussion had on the second day taken place as to the feasibility of our cutting our way through them. This large increase in their force had, however, rendered such an attempt a matter of mere insanity. The whole of that day, they kept making dashes at us. Up to this, nevertheless, they had inflicted no damage upon our party. One result of their tactics, had, however, caused us serious uneasiness. Our ammunition was wasting gradually away. Moreover, our stock of provisions was running very low. It was clear, if things continued as they now were, we should not only find our guns useless, but might, if the Bannocks waited long enough, be unable to raise a finger in self-defence.
That night, it was evident to the most thick-headed amongst us, that it would be impossible for us to hold out much longer.
Things were looking desperate. We had already been placed upon short allowance for our stomachs. It had now become necessary to place some restriction upon our frequency of firing at the red devils. At the council in which we discussed our situation, two of us, named Gardiner and Jasper, volunteered to attempt passing the Indian lines during the night. If they were unable to procure us relief, they would at any rate perish in the attempt to do so.
It was a gallant offer. But they were like the rest of us, men of pluck. Had we not been so, necessity would have produced it. Nothing gives a man so muchbravery, as the knowledge that his own courage alone keeps death at bay for a day or two longer. Their resolution was certainly increased by this knowledge.
Suffice it, this offer was accepted.
About eleven o'clock on that night, they stripped themselves perfectly naked, and, greasing their bodies with a portion of the bacon-fat which chanced to be left, prepared for their task. The reason for doing this last, was, in order to avoid their clothes catching on or being entangled by the brush, as well as to afford a chance of their escaping the grasp of the red devils, should their progress alarm them.
They were each armed with a sheath-knife. If caught, they had determined upon fighting as long as they had any life left to fight with. Neither of them would be taken captive. My experience, while in the hands of the Pah-utes, had been detailed to them on the preceding night, by Brighton Bill, in a full audience of the rest of our party. Nor did he narrate it, with mitigating circumstances. As may be very readily supposed, this had been by no means a highly consolatory recital.
It was, therefore, with a prayer for their safety from our lips, and with small hope of it in their own thoughts, that they left us.
The words in which our farewell had been uttered, seemed like bidding a last "good-bye" to actual brothers. Darkness had fallen heavily around us. We were unable to pierce the dense gloom with our eyes, and could see nothing. What was left to us but to wait and hope?
A Good Shot—The White Horse—Approaching Help—Only a Flea-bite—A Shout of Joy—Raising the Siege—An Indian Panic—The Pursuit—Recovering my Senses—For the Last Time—A Bead and no Powder—Bare Feet and the Sharp "Shale"—Heroic Self-sacrifice—A Rapid and Dashing Rescue.
A Good Shot—The White Horse—Approaching Help—Only a Flea-bite—A Shout of Joy—Raising the Siege—An Indian Panic—The Pursuit—Recovering my Senses—For the Last Time—A Bead and no Powder—Bare Feet and the Sharp "Shale"—Heroic Self-sacrifice—A Rapid and Dashing Rescue.
The hour of suspense which followed their having left the camp, was terrible. Every moment of it passed so slowly, that it appeared to be winged with lead. Each instant we were expecting to hear the crack of fire-arms, or the sound of a fierce struggle—not for life, but death. As the minutes passed slowly away, at length we began to realize the fact that they might have succeeded in passing undetected through the midst of the slumbering Indians. This belief gradually ripened into a positive certainty.
Brighton Bill was the first of us who found sufficient hardihood to give voice to this. Bringing down his hand with a ringing slap upon his thigh, he blurted out:
"May H'i be blamed, hif pluck don't pay hafter h'all. The boys hare safe."
"I'll bet they are," said Stanaford with a round oath. "The red skunks haven't nabbed 'em."
And so, that night, for the first time in three days, I was able to get some few hours of slumber, and woke with something akin to hope stirring in my bosom.
This day the Indians conducted themselves much as they had before done. We, however, were more prudent,and wasted no more ammunition save when we were sure of one of them. They, also, when they saw this, grew more cautious. Possibly, they were reasoning on our condition from the same stand-point we did ourselves. Seeing we wasted no more powder, they were probably reckoning that it was getting smaller in quantity, and thought it useless to run any more risk, until we were starved into making a dash for the open.
About the middle of the day, however, they began to tire of waiting.
A party of them would ride from their camp, and endeavor, by insulting gestures and exclamations of derision, to induce us to come out. This was always out of rifle-range. At length one of them, more daring than the rest, approached us within a hundred yards, and repeated their taunts. Stanaford, who was near me, said:
"I'll pick that red devil off, anyhow."
No sooner had he said this, than he dropped his cheek to his rifle, and in another moment the Bannock fell from his horse. Scarcely had he seen the Indian tumble, than, dropping his gun, he leapt out of the trench, in whose cover he was lying, singing out as he did so:
"I'll have his darned hair."
Jennings and the rest of us shouted for him to come back. This was of no use. He had reached the dead Indian and scalped him, before the other Bannocks realized what he was doing.
One of them, who was mounted on a beautiful white horse, and whom we had noticed on the preceding day, with a fancy that he must be some prominent chief, rushed towards Stanaford. Dropping on my knee, I was taking dead aim, when Jennings sang out:
"Hold on! Let me have a shot at him."
"Don't you be ha blamed fool!" roared out Brighton Bill. "H'if the Cap don't 'it 'im, you can take my wig." Then he added, "D'idn't Hi say so?"
The last question was caused by the chief's falling backward and dropping to the ground, while his horse made straight for our camp. Like Stanaford, I was bound to take his scalp, and ran to get it. This was, nevertheless, close work. We had been right in imagining the fallen brave to be a chief. Almost as soon as he had dropped, and I was in clear view, some dozen or more of the red-skins made a rush for me.
Had they been a moment speedier, I should have exchanged my own hair for that I had taken.
The loss of their chief seemed to have excited them almost to madness. Every few minutes they would dash at us, shaking their clinched hands, brandishing their rifles, and yelling out taunts, which we were unable to comprehend, save from the beastly gestures with which they were accompanied. Their latter experience of our skill as marksmen, nevertheless, prevented them from getting within range of our guns.
The afternoon was rapidly passing away, when Arnold called my attention to some dust in the east. It was moving rapidly down the side of a small hill.
"White help!" he curtly said.
"Please Heaven! it may be, Hank!" I answered, as I watched the approaching cloud intently.
In a few moments, we were able to detect the forms of some fourteen horsemen coming straight toward us, at a rapid rate.
"They are a mere flea-bite for the red devils," he exclaimed, querulously. "However, we may make a better show, with them to help us."
The whole of our companions were now watching them, as also were the Indians, who commenced a movement, from our right and left, towards the approaching party.
"We must go to their assistance," I said to Harry.
"H'in course we must," cried Brighton Bill, making a step to the spot where our horses were.
"See!" cried Arnold, with a shout of irrepressible joy, "the red skunks are trapped."
When he uttered this, he pointed to one side of the knoll. At the same instant, Stanaford grasped my shoulder and called my attention to the other. Our attention had hitherto been so engrossed by the approach of this party, that we had not detected the advance upon either side, of two much larger bodies. These reckoned, as we subsequently learned, more than two hundred each. Gardner and Jasper had done their work well, and deserved all gratitude for the courage and speed with which they had carried through the work they had entered upon.
Moreover, the attention of the Bannocks had been engrossed with the approach of that party of our fellow-countrymen which I had, the very moment before, in company with Harry Arnold, noticed.
When they heard the rolling thunder of our shout of joy, and knew that we were mounting our horses, they gazed round upon either side. In an instant, they became aware of the manner in which they had been trapped. There was a moment of hurried consultation. After this, they seemed to be stricken with perfect dismay. The presence of our friends had smitten them with a thorough panic. A telling volley had been poured in upon their shrinking figures, when we charged upon them.
It was with the yell of a band of tigers.
Shouting, clubbing, striking, and stabbing, we broke in, upon all we came across.
For the time, we were in a complete delirium of savage rage. So much so, indeed, that no incident of the struggle can be in any way recalled by me, for the next two hours.
At the close of these, my recollection had come back. I was far to the north of our camping-ground. Noon was waning into evening. The blue sky of the morning was seamed and blurred with rushing cloud. The horse I was mounted on was urged by me, in a headlong chase, after two flying figures. In the commencing shadow of the evening, I was enabled to see that they were Indians.
Did I not recognize one of them?
What if I did do so? Was I not maddened with the long siege I had endured? Was I not wild from my lengthy imprisonment on the mound, and eager upon the work of death? Suddenly, one of their horses stumbled and fell. Its rider was thrown under the body of the fallen animal. With a wild scream of delight, I urged my own steed up to them.
When I did so, the other Indian had dismounted, and was standing between me and the fallen red-skin, in a queenly and defiant posture.
It was a Mahala.
"The white chief has killed the husband of Clo-ke-ta. Let him now, if he wills it, take the life of her father."
Par-a-wau was stretched upon the dry earth, crushed under the motionless body of the animal he had been riding.
For a moment, I gazed upon the two. My brain seemed to whirl in a wild dance, as I did this. Then it was stilled, and, without a word of reply, I leapt from the back of my horse. With some little difficulty I extracted the Cheyenne chief from beneath the dead body of the animal he had been mounted upon. The gallant little beast had been stricken, earlier, by one of our balls. It had passed through its hind quarter. Yet, in spite of the loss of blood and the weakness gradually growing on it from this, it had carried the Cheyenne thus far.
Although bruised severely by the fall, when I raised him, Par-a-wau was able to stand erect.
Neither of us spoke.
He, very evidently, supposed that it was my intention to make him a prisoner. In all probability, he had too much Indian pride to make any entreaty. Very possibly, he believed white blood might run in as hard veins as that of the red-skin. I led my own horse toward him.
"Will Par-a-wau mount the horse of his brother?"
Without a word of answer, he obeyed me. Then, I raised his rifle, which was still upon the ground, and placed it in his hands.
After this, I turned to the Mahala. She had been standing motionless, watching every movement which I had made. Touching her widowed brow with my parched lips, dry and smeared as they were with the grime of battle, I lifted her into the saddle of her pony, which had been standing near us, saying:
"Clo-ke-ta will sometimes think of the brother who has never forgotten her!"
As I quitted her side, I heard the same cry of anguish, which had been uttered by her, when I refused to obeyher counsel and fly from the men with whom my lot was at the moment cast. My heart throbbed fiercely, yet I would not turn to her. Haply, she was thinking of the husband whom I had slain—perchance, she may momentarily have recalled the long-quelled dream of her youth. What was it to me what she was thinking of? Resolutely, I commenced my return.
In a few seconds after, I heard the tramp of the horse which had borne me, as well as that upon which I had placed Clo-ke-ta, ringing upon the plain behind me. Par-a-wau had breathed a few words to his daughter, as she passed from my hearing, in their own tongue. It almost seemed to me, as though a portion of my life had been torn from me.
Treading rapidly along the plain, I was buried in the mingled gloom of the present and the past.
Yes! This was the end. My hand had widowed the woman, for whom I had once been so sorely tempted to forswear civilization.
In spite of the excitement of the last few hours, my thoughts were for the moment with the past, when they were suddenly brought back by a voice, whose tones I had recently become more than well acquainted with. They were characterized by a somewhat coarse and insolent surprise.
"Wall! I swar, if this don't beat all. It's Buckskin Mose."
This exclamation was followed by the heartier and more energetic utterance of Brighton Bill.
"Hi'm blamed, Cap, hif you weren't lucky; we 'adn't no more powder."
"Whar's yer horse?"
"May Hi be blamed hif h'it hain't nabbed by themthieving Hingins. Nare' a matter, Mose; 'ang me hif Hi don't get h'it back for you."
Bill's horse was already plunging by me, when my grasp was on its bridle.
"You won't, Bill!"
"What d' you mean?"
"What I say!"
Jennings, the man who had been with Bill when the two had caught sight of me, was already some ten yards from the place where I was standing.
"Come back!"
Glancing over his shoulder at me, he saw me drawing a bead upon him. Not knowing I also was out of powder as well as himself, he thought it best to pull in and return, swearing at what he considered my stupidity. The opinion of Brighton Bill was, however, of greater importance in my estimation. This, the more especially, when I found out he evidently had settled my conduct as an undoubted example of temporary insanity. At any rate, I saw him, when he fancied my glance was turned away, looking at Jennings, and touching his forehead in a very significant manner.
"What are you thinking of, Bill?" I asked him, suddenly.
"Nothing, Cap! Hi'll be blamed hif Hi am. H'only hit's queer."
And so, I can scarcely doubt, it seemed to him. Returning to the camp on foot, I neither explained in what way I had lost my horse—whether it had been shot, stolen, or run away. Nor did I in any way allude to my share in the battle. My questions were, however, numerous enough during our return. The Bannocks had, indeed, been completely routed. Saving ColonelConnor's defeat of the Indians on Bear River, it was the most terrible defeat the red-skins had met with, since I had taken up my residence in this portion of the country. As I afterwards learned, some four hundred of them had been slain, and almost as large a number of horses had been captured.