AN INDIAN ATTACK ON A WAGON TRAIN
THE spring of 1846 was a busy season on the western frontier. Not only were emigrants from every part of the country preparing for the journey to California and Oregon, but a great number were making ready for Santa Fé. These adventurous people fitted out their wagon trains at St. Louis, and from there traveled up the Missouri River by boat to a place called Independence. This was the usual starting place, although occasionally trains went out from Fort Leavenworth.
THE LEADER OF
A WAGON TRAIN
These trains were usually made up of two or more large wagons, several emigrants combining forces and, considering that hostile Indians were always on the trail, this was a wise precaution. Some trains, however, sent out by companies formed for the express purpose of carrying goods to the Pacific Coast, consisted of as many as twenty-five wagons.
These wagons each could carry as much as six thousand pounds of freight and were drawn by several yoke of oxen in charge of one driver. Looking like large, flat-bottomed scows, the wagons were covered with canvas stretched over hoops bent round in shape. In this way the goods carried were protected from dampness and rain.
The trail to the Pacific Coast ran through what is now the State of Kansas to the Big Blue River, then over the Big and the Little Sandy River, coming into Nebraska close by the Big Sandy. Next, striking the Little Blue, the trail followed it for some sixty miles until it came to the Platte River near Fort Kearney. From here it wound in and out of the rolling hills like a great serpent, and on across the prairies to Fort Laramie, one of the most westerly frontier posts.
The country lying between this fort and the Salt Lake Valley, on the other side of the Rocky Mountains, was inhabited only by hostile Indians, and it was here that many brave men lost their lives.
Among the large number of people who pushed into the Wild West in the early days of emigration, the resolute forester who had already penetrated the wilds of the forest-covered States was the first to venture. Toils and hazards of former undertakings were forgotten, as these endless and unexplored regions were opened for settlement.
A PRAIRIE SCHOONER
The tints and hues of autumn were at their fullest when a train of wagons issued from the border hills to pursue its way across the rolling surface of the great prairie. Creaking “prairie-schooners,” as the wagons were sometimes called, heavy with stoves and household goods, and concealing the women and children, moved slowly along the trail. Straggling sheep and cattle were herded in the rear, while in front rode or walked the sturdy and fearless backwoodsmen. On every side stretched the broad plain which reached like a great sea to the far distant Rocky Mountains. The leader, a tall, strong man, who rode ahead, had stopped and was looking with shaded eyes toward the west. The setting sun cast a yellow glow over the heavens and earth and seemed to suggest the very gold whose discovery in California was attracting so many men to make this hazardous journey. The dress of this leader was very picturesque. From his deer-skin belt hung his hunting knife, with its buckhorn handle, and his hat of martens’ fur gave to his strong face a look of great determination. The stock of his rifle, that was loosely hung over his shoulder, was of beautiful mahogany riveted and bound with precious metal. In addition to the rifle, a carefully guarded powder horn and a keen, bright wood axe were slung across his back.
As evening came, a camp was sought for the night. A cool spring that burst forth from the side of a gently sloping hill, and proved to be the source of a prairie stream, called a run, offered the desired water and fresh grass for the cattle and horses, and was quickly chosen.
It was a busy scene while the camp was made, and every member of the train had his task. The great wagons were swung into a circle to afford the best means of protection in case of attack.
When the evening meal was over, lots were drawn to see who should stand guard for the night. This decided, women and children went to bed and the sheep and cattle were driven into the corral formed by the wagons.
Night came on and the stars shone out with the special brilliancy of the western sky. It was now the first watch of the night and the pale light of a new moon played over the endless waves of the prairie, tipping the ridges with gleams of light and leaving the hollows purple in darkness.
On a knoll some little distance from the camp crouched several dusky forms. Low guttural tones came from the throats of the band of Indians, who in fierce war paint and with fiery eyes looked more like demons than men.
Crouching low, with a snake-like motion three of the band crawled away through the tall grass. It was some minutes before they returned and reported what they had seen in the camp. Then, at a given signal, several more warriors rode up upon their fleet ponies and dismounted. A council was held, but when the scouts reported that the wagon train was strongly fortified, the Indians decided to give up the attack that night, and mounting, almost as one man, the wild riders rode like the wind across the moonlit prairie and were soon lost in the dim distance.
With the first break of day the emigrant train was in motion and once more began its weary journey. All went well until, a few hours after sunrise, the leader suddenly came to a halt. On a rise of ground some distance ahead appeared a bright spot, which, upon closer observation, proved to be a mounted Indian. The alarm was soon given, and the whole train at once became the scene of hurried and exciting preparation. The wagons were quickly wheeled into a circle and the women, children and stock were cared for just as they had been the night before. There was not a moment to lose. For at all points Indians now appeared mounted and in full war dress. They were riding like mad, circling the group of wagons at some distance. Finally a great piercing war-cry sounded and the wild and furious riders closed in on the settlers. Coming within range of the backwoodsmen’s rifles, the red foes threw themselves on the off side of their horses, and so placed the animals between them and the accurate aim of the long rifles of the train defenders.
While this excitement was going on the emigrants did not see the dark forms crawling through the long grass toward their fort. Suddenly a terrible yell of savage success rent the air and an awful scene of bloodshed and hand-to-hand encounter followed. In the confusion the animals broke loose and stampeded, and away they went across the plains, the Indian riders in wild pursuit to capture their booty.
The enemy gone, it was a desolate scene that greeted the emigrant leader. Many of his best men were dead, most of his cattle gone, and scarcely enough horses left for half his wagons. But he was indeed fortunate, since none of the women and children had been killed or taken captive.
In spite of such odds as these the Great West grew and settlements multiplied. This was due to the courage and indomitable will of these first comers, who in spite of almost insurmountable difficulties did not lose heart or ambition.