11 The Attack

Pike did not say very much, but left the bulk of the talking to the remainder of us. I noticed soon that he appeared to be very restless and uneasy. He studied the plain in every direction, and seemed to be making calculations. There was nothing unusual in the appearance of the country. It was the same level, or almost level expanse, rolling away on every side to the horizon, that we had been travelling over for days.

A few minutes after we finished eating Pike rose to his feet and said:

“It’s jest as I expected. Get ready boys.”

“Get ready for vat? Is a nozzer herd of ze buffaloes coming?” exclaimed little Bonneau.

“Not buffaloes this time,” said Pike, without a change of countenance, “but men. We are about to be’ attacked. See there!”

He pointed away to the south, where we could see some dim, black specks on the horizon line. The specks appeared to be moving, for they grew larger.

“My eyes are used to the plains,” said Pike, “and they tell me them specks are men, men on horseback. What kind of men would you expect to meet out here? Injuns, of course. The chances are a hundred to one them’s Injuns, and the odds are just ez big that they want our scalps. We’ve got to fight for it.”

“But when you saw them you said, ‘Just as I expected.’ Why did you say that?” I asked.

“Hev you forgotten last night, an’ the horseman who killed Wilkinson?” asked Pike. “Thar ain’t any ghosts, Joe, and that horseman has come back with others to finish us. We must get ready for them the best we kin. These dead buffaloes will help us a lot”

Working with the utmost vigor under Pike’s direction, we drew the bodies of the buffaloes up in a small circle. With one piled upon another they formed a breastwork several feet high, through which no ordinary bullet could pass. Then we sat down inside this queer fortification.

“See to your guns,” said Pike, “and keep your ammunition handy. It’s lucky we’ve got plenty of that. At any rate, thar’s some satisfaction in fighting an open enemy out in the daylight.”

“Perhaps they are not hostiles after all!” hazarded Henry.

“Don’t you believe it,” said Pike.

“Them fellers are after scalps, and the scalps they’re after our ourn.”

Then we sat quite still and waited for the strangers to approach. It was soon evident that Pike was right. They were Indians. The party numbered about fifty, and they stopped just out of range, brandishing lances and uttering yells which made me shiver,

“It’s a war party, and they’re well-armed, too,” said Pike. “Lay close, boys. We’ll wait for them to begin the dance.”

“To what tribe do you think they belong?” I asked Pike.

“Can’t tell,” he said. “Pawnees, Arapahoes, Sioux, Cheyennes all gallop over these plains.”

The Indians seemed to be in no hurry. Apparently they knew all about us. They were careful not to come within range. Some of them dismounted and lolled about on the grass. Others galloped up and down, still yelling and brandishing their lances. I knew nothing about Indian tactics, but Pike explained that the warriors never exposed themselves uselessly. They could take us with a rush, but they would wait and maneuver. Soon we saw proof of this.

In about an hour the warriors who had dismounted climbed back on their ponies. Then the whole troop began to gallop away from us.

“They are going to leave us,” exclaimed Henry, joyfully.

“I allers said the Injuns wuz a lot o’ cowardly pirates, and would run from a tight little crew like ours,” said Starboard Sam.

“Don’t be so fast. They ain’t gone yet, by a jugful,” said he sarcastically. “Them Injuns think they’ve got an easy thing and they’re goin’ to play with it.”

The Indians must have been a mile away when they stopped. Then they began to trot around us in a circle, which slowly narrowed. Meantime they kept up a most infernal yelling, and I am sure every one of our party wished he was safe back at Fort Leavenworth. They spent an hour or more at this sort of thing, and then when they were almost within range stopped again. There seemed to be some bustle and preparation among them, and Pike said:

“I think they’re goin’ to treat us to some fireworks now.”

A single warrior rode out from the group. He had no lance, but he held a rifle in front of him.

“Don’t any of you boys do anything until I order you to do it,” said Pike, with a warning look.

The warrior uttered a loud shout, struck his horse and galloped directly towards us. Before he had come a rod he changed the course of his horse, and suddenly shot out of sight behind that animal. I thought he had fallen off, but Pike said he was clinging to the horse, having put the latter’s body between him and us, and would fire at us over or under the animal’s neck as soon as he had a good opportunity. All the time the Indian pulled his horse about in the most erratic, zigzag fashion. Pike explained that the fellow was showing off before his comrades and made his horse curvet to disturb our aim.

Emboldened by our silence the Indian circled nearer. He must have caught a glimpse of one of our heads, for there was a flash of flame under his horse’s neck, and I heard the whizzing of a bullet, which lodged in one of the buffaloes. At the same moment Pike fired and the Indian’s pony fell. The Indian bounded to his feet as if he was made of rubber.

“Shoot him, Magrane! Shoot him!” exclaimed Pike. “It’s our lives against theirn, the bloodthirsty varmints. It’s no time for mercy.”

Magrane, who was a good marksman, fired, and the Indian dropped dead, on the grass. It was first blood for our side. The other Indians set up a yell when they saw the death of their comrade, and galloped about, but did not come nearer. They had tasted of our mettle and did not like it.

The Indians deliberated for half an hour. Then they spread out in a great circle around us. At a signal from one of their number, evidently a chief, they began to gallop down on us from all sides, swing behind their horses and yelling. There was some trepidation in our party at this combined attack, but Pike steadied us and arranged us so we could meet them at all points.

“Lay low,” he said, “and whenever you see a head fire at it.”

The fellows came at us with a tremendous discord of yells, firing from behind their horses. Fortunately, we obeyed Pike’s injunction to lie low, and none of us was hit as yet. Then our own rifles began to pop. I was watching one fellow on a blaze-faced horse, who seemed to me to yell louder than any of the others. I could have shot his horse, but that would have left me without any load in my gun, and then he could have run away unless some of the others by chance picked him off. I held my gun ready, and presently, when I saw his hideously painted face show over his horse’s back, I fired point-blank at him. The horse reared and galloped off over the plain, but he was riderless. The Indian lay stark and lifeless on the grass.

I know it is an awful thing to kill a man, but I felt no compunction when that Indian fell before my rifle. As Pike had truly said, it was our lives or theirs, and they had made it so, for they were the attacking party.

I reloaded my rifle hastily, but did not get another shot, for the Indians galloped away and left us victors for the time being. As they scurried off over the plain a voice sang:

It was Starboard Sam chanting his pæan of triumph, and little Bonneau, whose blood was afire, shouted:

“Vive le Capitaine Pike! We have thrashed ze red devils! Ah, zis is ze fighting I love!”

Bonneau was a bloodthirsty little wretch when he got the light of battle in his eyes. But I would have been glad to be out of it all. I am not ashamed to say that. Peeping over our strange fortifications I could see the Indian whom I had killed lying upon his back. I could see the blood-stains upon his breast where my fatal bullet had entered, and though he had come as a ravenous enemy I felt no sensation of triumph. It was the first time that I had shed human blood, and now that the battle was over for the while I had some uncomfortable reflections. I was aroused from my thoughts by Pike asking me how much water I had in my canteen. We had provided ourselves with these useful articles before beginning the long journey over the plains. I found that mine was nearly full. So were the others, and the investigation gave Pike great satisfaction. Evidently he expected a siege of some duration.

“We have ze water,” said Bonneau, “and when we get hungry we will eat a piece of our fort.”

The day wore on. The Indians were visible in the distance, but they made no further demonstration. Soon we experienced the attacks of a new enemy, the heat. The sun hung in the sky a huge, round, burning mass, and seemed to concentrate all his rays on our unprotected heads. There was no escape from them. We were compelled to lie there and suffer, though sips of the precious water in our canteens saved our throats and lips from parching. Pike said there would be no more attacks as long as daylight lasted. So we watched and waited.

Henry used to tell me an old story about a sword hanging by a single hair. Whenever that hair was cut some one would receive the blow of the sword. I thought more than once of that old tale as I lay there that evening and waited. Beyond us on the prairie I could see the Indians watching like so many wolves. When would the sword fall? In the heat of action, when the blood is high, one forgets himself; but to lie there under the blazing sun, just waiting, waiting for death, was almost beyond endurance.

It was with a curious mingling of emotions that we saw the sun sink lower and lower, and the shadows lengthen on the grass. It brought relief from one form of torture, but it also brought us nearer to what we believed would be the crisis.

The sun sank from sight, the gray twilight came, and in the shadows the Indians became invisible. We knew they were still there, for wolves, when they believe they can run their victim to earth, never leave the scent.

The night came on, and we sat straining our eyes and ears. Two or three of us might have slept while the others watched, but nobody was willing to close his eyes. So all watched together. Pike went outside our rampart and beckoned to me to follow. When I climbed over he whispered to me that he could hear better there, and it was just as safe for the while at least

“The redskins are almost sure to attack us to-night,” he said. “They have the darkness, an’ we can’t pick em off while they are creeping up.”

It is curious upon what trifles matters of the utmost importance sometimes turns. I soon realized that our lives would depend upon the degree of darkness the night might bring forth. If we could see only a few feet the Indians would upon us before we were able to fire a shot. If the night should be clear we could open upon them at a distance. Pike gazed up at the skies with the greatest anxiety. Some clouds were floating about, but there were stars twinkling, too. We did not have a broadside of luck, but it was partly in our favor. As Pike put it, it was just so so, neither very clear nor very dark.

Pike extended himself at full length and lay with his ear on the prairie. The Indians were sly, he said, and could creep along almost with the silence of a snake gliding over the grass, but if they attempted it he believed he could hear them before they came too near.

We had been lying on the ground full two hours when I heard a slight noise behind me, and started, believing at first that the Indians had succeeded in creeping upon us. But a well-known voice reassured me. It was only Henry, He said he had grown too anxious inside the fort and had come out to join us. I was for sending him back, but Pike said: “Let the kid stay; we may need him,” and so the boy remained with us.

There we lay and listened for the approach of the Indians. Often I was sure that I heard them creeping, creeping, but it was only the wind rustling through the dry grass, and Pike lay with his ear fixed to the earth as still as if he were dead. Save for the rustling of the grass the silence of the great plain was appalling. Around us was the vast and misty darkness. Overhead the clouds drifted now and then between us and the twinkling stars. We seemed to be alone with the night and our Creator, but I could not associate this silence with peace. The events of the day would not allow it. The stain of blood was over everything. There was Wilkinson’s dead face behind me, and before me was another dead face—that of the Indian whom I had killed. And further on I knew the warriors lay, savage for our blood.

Near midnight the clouds thickened somewhat and the night grew a little darker. Pike crawled out on the plain a short distance. In ten minutes he came back and said to us:

“We’ll join the others inside now. I’m sure they’re coming, Ef I didn’t hear ’em I’m mightily mistaken. Besides this is the best time fer ’em.”

We crawled inside and joined the others. How long we waited I could not say. It seemed to me an age. Perhaps it was only a minute, until the air was rent with yells, and dusky figures rose like phantoms from the grass.

“Fire into ’em,” shouted Pike, “as fast as you can.” And we obeyed his order with frantic eagerness.

I fired plump at a warrior who rushed on ahead of the others. Whether he fell I know not, for the next moment there was such a blur of flame and smoke around us that I could see nothing distinctly. With fierce yells the band charged us, firing as they came. Bullets whizzed by our ears. I felt a stinging sensation in my left shoulder and knew that I was hit, but how seriously I had no time to think. The blood streamed down my coat-sleeve, but I rammed another charge into my rifle with the haste one knows how to use when his life depends upon it. I heard a groan beside me, but did not look around to see who uttered it.

The Indians were at the barrier. I raised my rifle and fired again. Most of the enemy had discharged their weapons and they swarmed up to the rampart of the dead buffaloes, cutting at us with tomahawks and knives, and endeavoring to leap over among us. I jabbed the muzzle of my rifle with all my might against the chest of one fellow, and he fell back groaning. The next moment I felt my throat seized in a grip that cut off my breath and paralyzed muscles and nerves. The rifle dropped from my palsied hands, and I could do nothing but watch with staring eyes the savage face of a powerful warrior who, a knee upon the barrier, had seized me with one hand, while he held his knife ready to strike in the other.

Even in that brief moment of suspense, in the face of what I regarded as certain death, all my being flamed up against it. I was too young—I had done too little—to be sent thus abruptly to another world. Then I looked for the blow to fall, but instead there was a spurt of flame before my face, the crushing grip on my throat relaxed, and the Indian fell lifeless to the ground.

“Just in time, Joe, old boy,” exclaimed a voice in my ear. I looked around and saw Henry, whose face was transfigured with excitement. He held a still-smoking pistol in his hand, and I knew who had saved me.

“Give it to ’em, boys!” shouted Pike, and he opened his throat and uttered a mighty cheer which filled us with renewed courage. In the open, foot to foot, the Indians would have overpowered us easily with their great numbers, but our improvised defences saved us. In charging us they had fired hastily and at random, and when they reached our ramparts their guns were unloaded. When Pike brought his clubbed rifle down with a great crash on the head of their leader they fled, snarling, in the darkness. Then our camp was silent again, for even the wounded had managed to drag themselves off where their groans could not be heard.

“We’ve won again, boys,” said Pike. “How many we’ve dropped I don’t know. Our loss is one killed, and I believe three wounded.”

It was Magrane who had received the fatal bullet. He was lying at my feet stone dead, and a red spot on his temple showed where the lead had entered. I had a slight wound in my shoulder. A bullet had grazed Pike’s forehead, drawing blood, and Bonneau had a flesh wound in the arm, which so far from daunting him made him more bloodthirsty than ever.

Even with the loss of Magrane we had fared better than we had a right to expect, and we exchanged congratulations on the result. Then Pike told us to load our guns and pistols and look well to the priming. Usually Pike’s face was expressionless, but there was now a glint in his eyes that told us he had important plans. He was not long in divulging them.

“The time has come for tis to’ get,” he said “We’ve beat ’em off, but we can’t hold this place forever. Dead buffaloes won’t last long ’ez a wall. We must slip away while they’re in confusion and afore they’ve time to rearrange their circle.”

The wisdom of Pike’s words was at once apparent. If we remained where we were the Indians had only to exercise patience and we would fall into their hands as surely as the night follows day. A very few minutes and we were ready.

“We’ll have to leave them where they fell,” said Pike; “but bring their guns and pistols. If it comes to the pinch again we’ll need ’em.”

We spread their blankets over the dead men’s faces, and then, taking up their weapons, left them in the darkness.

Pike cautioned us to make no noise, but there was no need for him to impress that fact upon us. In every one of us the love of life was still strong, and, Pike leading the way, we stole off like so many ghosts across the prairie. We knew that the chances were against our slipping through the hostile circle, but the attempt was our only recourse.

We advanced about three hundred yards, when Pike ordered us to drop down on our knees and crawl. He said if he made a hissing noise like the rattlesnake when it coils we must stop, lie flat upon the ground, and “Don’t you even breathe,” he added. Then Pike led the way again, squatting so low that his figure was indistinct to me though I was only a few feet behind his heels. This was painful progress, and at best but slow, but its necessity was apparent. Ten minutes of it and we heard Pike’s warning hiss. We sank lower on the prairie and lay still, but presently Pike whispered to us that it was a false alarm and resumed his advance.

I crawled up by Pike’s side, and we went on for another five minutes. Then he gave the warning hiss a second time. Almost at the same moment a horse whinnied and Pike, gently pulling my arm, pointed to the left. There was light enough to disclose a group of horses.

“They left their ponies thar undercharge of some warriors while they tried to steal up on us,” said Pike. “I’ve half a mind to make a rush on ’em, cut down the guards, seize the horses and gallop off.”

The plan looked feasible for desperate men. If we could seize enough of the horses to mount ourselves, stampede the others, and then gallop away it would be turning the tables on the Indians. We would be mounted, they would be afoot, and we might laugh at their pursuit. But unfortunately for such a plan we saw forms coming over the prairie, and at least a dozen Indians joined the guards around the horses, making the party too strong for a rush on our part. I could hear the Indians talking, and Pike, who understood some of their jargon, said they were arranging a system of guards to prevent our escape.

While we lay there several other Indians came up and joined the party. Then three started away, and passed very near us. We lay very close. In fact I felt as if I were trying to squeeze myself into the earth. But fortunately the darkness was sufficient to conceal us. When they were gone we resumed our crawling march over mother earth. Pike said if we could get past the horses and their guards without being detected he thought we would have nothing, further to fear, for that night at least.

The horses whinnied repeatedly and stamped the earth. I am sure they were conscious of our presence, but the noise they made did not arouse the suspicions of the Indians.

Though it was very far from being a laughing matter to us, we must have presented a somewhat ludicrous sight creeping one after another on all fours over the prairie, forming a black, shapeless column like some of the pictures of extinct animals I have seen in books.

We circled around the horses, though we could still hear the Indians talking, and gradually with a great sense of relief, as if a crushing weight had been lifted off us, we passed them. Ten minutes more and we were beyond earshot. But Pike would not let us rise yet. He said there was danger still. Ten minutes later we struck some rolling ground and passed over the crest of a little ridge.

Pike had just turned to me saying we might take to our feet now, when we heard a crunching of footsteps on the dry grass. An Indian warrior stalked unwittingly upon us. He almost stumbled against Pike, and then he saw us. A cry rose to his lips, but it never found utterance. A leonine, powerful figure shot up from the grass, and a hand of steel seized his throat. A knife flashed for a moment before his eyes and then was plunged into his heart.

“It’s an onpleasant duty,” said Pike, as he dropped the body of the dead Indian on the grass, “but thar wuz no choice. It had to be done. Now, boys, let’s run for it, but the gang must keep together.”

Our course lay to the west, towards the rainbow of gold, and with light hearts we swung forward, running with the long, easy trot that saves muscle and wind, but covers ground at an amazing rate. Our spirits were due to the reaction after such danger and suspense. Pike told us that we were not yet out of the woods, but the remainder not being so experienced as he, dismissed all alarm, so far as the Indians were concerned.

Thus we swung along, and when daylight came we must have been twelve or fifteen miles from the spot where the fight had occurred. Then we halted for a little rest. The truth of it was we were still in very hard case without our horses, but fresh from our escape we did not feel so badly over that trouble just then. We drank the water that still remained in our canteens and felt much refreshed. But after so much fighting and waiting and running we were very hungry. But to dispose of our hunger was an easy matter. We were in the heart of the buffalo country. The passage of the great herd the night before indicated that many stragglers would be about. So it proved.

A half-hour’s hunting and we found several of the animals grazing on the plain. A rifle shot and we had all the meat we wanted, and a fire of buffalo chips soon gave us steaks that were like manna to hungry men. Pike said that waiting was a risk, but we could not push ahead on empty stomachs, an opinion in which all concurred with the utmost heartiness.

As soon as our food was ready we took it in our hands and ate as we trotted along. I knew that Pike feared pursuit, and I asked him about its probability.

“Of course they’ll follow us,” he said. “They can track us even on this plain. Ef they are bothered sometimes, don’t forgit that they are on horseback while we’re afoot, and they kin make up lost time. Besides, thar’s a lot of ’em, and they can spread out over the plain and hunt for us. They’ll see that dead buffalo back thar, sure, and that’ll help ’em in the chase.”

The cogency of Pike’s reasoning was too evident, and our spirits fell again.

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