CHAPTER XIITHE ROUT
Joseph, Robert, and Deerfoot by fast riding finally caught up with the advance guard of the volunteers. The men were in a frenzy of excitement and rushed forward pell mell with no other thought than to overtake the fleeing Indians. Sycamore Creek was ahead of them and this stream the escaping messengers had already crossed. Their horses could be seen scrambling up the opposite bank and a moment later they disappeared behind a heavy fringe of bushes.
With loud shouts the pursuers rushed forward. That there could be any possible danger to them Major Stillman’s men did not seem to consider. Each man was intent on being the first to overtake the fleeing redmen. Deerfoot, however, knew the man they were dealing withand was consequently more cautious. Mounted on an especially swift pony he outdistanced the rest of the force and was the first to reach Sycamore Creek. There he stopped and wheeling his pony held up his hand.
The whole force came to a stop. Deerfoot raised himself in his stirrups. “No go ahead now,” he called in a loud voice. “I fear ambush.”
His remarks were greeted with howls of derision. Shouts and jeers were flung at the Pottowattomie, and a few even went so far as to intimate that probably Deerfoot was in league with Black Hawk and was attempting to save his ally from destruction. At any rate, no one paid any attention to his words of warning. Once more the rangers spurred their horses forward.
“Come on, Joe,” called Robert excitedly. “We mustn’t be left out of this.”
“Did you hear what Deerfoot said?”
“I know, but he’s overcautious sometimes. Even if he is right we can’t stay behind now. Major Stillman himself ordered the advance.”
“No one seems to obey him very often,though,” remarked Joseph grimly. “At least they only do when they feel like it.”
“Are you coming?”
“Of course I am,” retorted Joseph as he urged his horse forward.
Some fifty or more of the rangers had already crossed the creek and the two young brothers were quick to follow. Into the water they plunged and a few moments later were safe on the other side of the stream. Nearly the whole force had now forded Sycamore Creek or were in the act of doing so. As soon as they had emerged from the water they hurried forward on their quest.
Joseph glanced at Deerfoot. The Indian evidently was anxious and fearful of what was in store for them. He clutched his tomahawk firmly in his right hand, while his eyes constantly searched the nearby bushes for possible signs of the enemy.
Nothing had happened so far, however, and Joseph began to think that perhaps his brother had been right when he said that Deerfoot was sometimes overcautious. The pace was swift now and at least two hundred yards had been covered since they had left the creek. Thespot seemed ideal for an ambush, but there was no sign of the hostile Sacs as yet. Joseph felt more confident each moment.
His confidence was shortlived, however. Just as the force of rangers came to a particularly dense growth of bushes and timber, a yell rent the air. A blood-curdling, ear-splitting war whoop sounded that from its volume apparently issued from hundreds, perhaps thousands of throats. Everyone of the rangers drew in his horse sharply and glanced about him in astonishment. The yells were continuous and seemed to increase in volume. But where did they come from? Not a sign of the enemy was to be seen.
Suddenly, however, the Indians appeared. Every tree and bush seemed to split open and belch forth a bloodthirsty, yelling savage with a tomahawk in his hand. All the warriors were on horses, and forward they charged at full speed. They had rifles as well, and from these they poured a deadly stream of bullets into the front ranks of the rangers.
The volunteers, however, made no resistance. Instantly they wheeled their horses and at full speed turned and fled for their lives.
It was now Black Hawk’s opportunity to exult and to take his turn as the pursuer. Terror filled the hearts of Major Stillman’s men, and in spite of the efforts of their commander to rally them, they made off as fast as their mounts could carry them.
The rout was complete. From behind came the exultant yells and shrieks of the Indians who were bending every effort to overtake and cut down their white foes. They were still a considerable distance behind, however, and fortunate it was for the volunteers that such was the case.
Joseph, Robert and Deerfoot, once side by side, were now separated and with no other choice they were obliged to flee with their comrades. The two young brothers had stood their ground when the Indians first charged and each had emptied his rifle at the onrushing warriors. No one else of their company, however, had seemed inclined to stay with them. Consequently, as it undoubtedly meant certain death for them to face their foes alone, they too turned their horses and joined in the mad flight. They did not even have time to see the effect of their bullets.
As Joseph bent low over his horse’s back and urged the animal forward, a man white with terror came alongside and by reason of his swifter mount soon passed him. It was Walt. Even at such a time, Joseph could not repress a grim smile, as he saw the traces of fear written all over the man’s face. Walt, the one who had boasted of his prowess and his ability to deal with the hostile Indians, was now running like a scared rabbit for safety. Joseph’s smile changed to a snort of disgust.
A bullet whirred past his head. Just ahead of him a man crumpled up in his saddle and slid to the ground, a limp mass that but a few moments before had been a human being. Joseph shuddered involuntarily at the sight, but he could not stop. His thoughts were not for his own safety alone, however. He wondered what had become of Robert and of Deerfoot. He raised his head to look about him in an attempt to discover their whereabouts. A bullet struck his cap, tearing it from his head, and Joseph made no further effort to find his brother.
Ahead of him, on both sides and behind him was a confused mob of panic-stricken horsemen.The blood-curdling yells of the Indians sounded constantly over the prairie, as the men sped onward in their attempt to escape a massacre. Into Sycamore Creek they plunged. Coming out on the other side they kept on in mad disorder, until they had reached the clump of trees where their camp was pitched. They did not stop there, however, nor did they seem to have any thought of checking their flight.
Every man in the expedition seemed intent on putting as much space as possible between himself and the yelling pursuers, who were now pressing them so closely.
“Fools,” thought Joseph to himself, as they passed the camp. “Why don’t they stop here? We could defend this place against ten times our number. With the trees for protection and the Indians still on the open prairie we could pick them off at our leisure.”
No one else seemed to share Joseph’s views, however, or if any one did he did not try to put the plan into execution. On they sped, becoming more scattered and more demoralized every moment. Many men had been killed and Joseph himself had seen several fall from their horses. As far as he could determine no onetried to oppose the Indians either. A few shots had been fired at first, but since that time every man seemed to be more interested in the fleetness of his pony than he did in offering any resistance to the pursuers.
As some of the ponies were much swifter than others the volunteers were soon strung out in a long line over the prairie. To his dismay, Joseph suddenly noticed that man after man was passing him and leaving him behind. He could not be sure whether or not the shouts of the Indians sounded closer, but he was greatly alarmed to see himself being outdistanced by so many of his comrades.
His pursuers were not yelling as much as they had been. That they had not given up the chase, however, was manifest by the fact that above the pounding of the horses’ hoofs could be heard the frequent bark of the rifles. Joseph knew that it would be a long time before the Indians would relinquish such an opportunity to avenge themselves upon their enemies, the Americans.
He could see that his pony was tiring fast and that his predicament would soon be desperate unless something speedily occurred toaid him. It was only a question of time before his horse would break down under the strain and then the young pioneer’s case would be almost hopeless. Joseph raised his head and glanced about him.
A short distance ahead, and a little to one side, he spied a ravine. A narrow gully, filled with bowlders and scrubby trees, appeared to Joseph’s gaze and he quickly decided to enter it, for perhaps he might find a place of refuge. He turned his horse and plunged into the ravine.
As he urged his horse to a final effort his mind turned to Robert and Deerfoot. What had become of them? If they had been killed, or far worse, captured, Joseph would be left all alone in the world. A lump arose in his throat at the thought. This was no time for sentiment, however, and he quickly suppressed his feelings and devoted his whole attention to his own safety.
A short distance in advance of him he spied a thick clump of bushes. Toward these Joseph hurried and upon reaching the spot was overjoyed to find that they would afford a screen sufficient to hide him from the gaze of anyonewho should pass that way. On the other hand he could look out from his refuge and see all that was taking place around him.
He tethered his horse to one of the roots of a large tree, which had been torn from its place by some great wind. Making sure that in his hiding place he and his horse were well concealed, he crawled cautiously along the trunk of the fallen tree, until he reached a spot from which he could see the surrounding country.
Hardly had he been in his place a moment when he heard the clatter of hoofs and not fifty feet from him he spied five Indians riding past at full speed in pursuit of the flying volunteers.