Chapter Seven.
Our Deliverers pursue the Comanches, but fail to return—I am Convalescent and head a Party in Search—There is a Lady in the Case—Stores for Camp—Tony Flack’s Tale of the “Injuns.”
Day after day passed away, and no tidings of the expedition. Under the care of my kind hostess I quickly recovered from the effects of my wound, from which I suffered wonderfully little, and I began to hope that in another day or two I might be fit to mount a horse, and set off to the assistance of the settlers. While I lay on my bed I had plenty of time for thinking. Among other things, I began to regret that I had been turned aside from my original purpose of ascending the Mississippi. I never like to be thwarted in anything I undertake, and on this occasion I felt that I had allowed fear to influence me. I thought this so unworthy of me that, “so soon as I have brought my present adventure to a conclusion,” I said to myself, “I will go back and steam up the mighty river; and any slave-owner or slave-dealer who dares to stop me shall pay dear for his temerity.” I told Peter and Ready of my determination. The latter wagged his tail and seemed highly pleased, though I suspect he thought I was speaking of going home. The former said that he was willing to go wherever I wished, and, if needs be, would fight by my side as long as he could stand up.
“I know you would, Peter,” said I. “Indeed we shall probably have something to try your courage before then.”
I was right in this conjecture. The party which had gone in pursuit of the Comanches did not return, and their friends becoming anxious about them, began to assemble from all directions on horseback, and well-armed. By this time I was able to leave my room, and when they heard that an Englishman was ready to take the command of the party, they all expressed a wish to have me at their head, and to set out immediately. Weak as I was I determined to go. My kind hostess showered blessings on my head when I told her so. I could only reply that I should better merit them if I returned successful.
We were to set off the next morning. Another night’s rest would increase my strength, or might perhaps see the return of the former expedition. I went to see. Silas Slag before starting.
“Well, you Britishers can sometimes put the best leg foremost, I see,” he observed as he took my hand, and pressed it with a warmth I did not expect. “You ain’t far behind us free and independent Americans, I guess. I wish I could go with you; and so I would, if it wasn’t for the big hole which that Comanche made between my ribs. I’d like to go for your sake, and to help to find the young gal those varmint have carried off.”
I thanked Silas heartily for his friendly feelings, and assured him that I shouldn’t wish to have a better man by my side. In truth, I have seldom found Americans wanting in bravery or generosity.
Daybreak found me in the saddle, surrounded by fifty well-armed men; young and old, white, brown, and black; with Peter mounted on a raw-boned steed at my side, and Ready—looking as if he well knew what was in the wind—at my heels. My army was somewhat variously armed: some had muskets, others rifles, others blunderbusses, and others only spears and pistols; while the swords were of all shapes, from Spanish Toledos, to English cutlasses and broadswords. The costumes of my followers were of the same diversified character, as were the accoutrements of the horses and the steeds themselves, but as the men mostly looked ready for work I was satisfied. We had secured a half-caste Indian for a guide, whose parents had been killed and scalped by the Comanches; so he was anxious that we should fall in with them. I must own that I chiefly thought about the young woman who had been carried off, and I hoped that no disaster might have happened to the brave men who had preserved my life and that of my companions at the moment we were almost overpowered. Each of us carried his provisions and cooking utensils at his saddle-bow, as well as a cloak or blanket in which to sleep at night. Every man had his axe in his belt, and a long knife for cutting grass, so that we were provided for a campaign even should it take a month or more.
We pushed on as fast as we could move, making, through the open prairie, full thirty miles each day. We thus travelled a hundred miles; but still there was no sign of our friends or the Comanches. Our guides assured us that the former must be ahead, but, as to the Indians, it was impossible to say where they were. Any moment they might appear on our flanks or rear, and, unless we were well prepared, overwhelm us by their numbers. We, of course, kept a careful watch at night, and sent out scouts as we advanced.
We were soon completely in the desert, and might at any moment be attacked by our enemies. Had our animals been capable of pushing on without stopping, I believe that we should have done so, from the intense eagerness all felt to ascertain what had become of their friends; but my companions were too practical to attempt this. They well knew that “the more haste the less speed.” We therefore camped regularly, and only travelled at stated hours, as if we were in no way in a hurry. This somewhat slow progress was very trying to my temper, although, had we attempted to go faster, we should have knocked up our steeds, and been unable to progress at all.
The time, however, spent while camping, was not occupied unpleasantly. Most of the party had led wild, roving lives, had followed various vocations, and gone through strange adventures, which they were not prevented by bashfulness from recounting. They were not in a mood to sing, but one after the other narrated the most wonderful events, in which, as a rule, they were the chief actors,—grizzly bears, panthers, buffaloes, and rattlesnakes being part of the dramatis persona.
We had several articles of food which were new to me, all as little bulky as possible, and qualified to keep a long time. We had some dried meat, procured from the Mexicans. They prepare it by cutting the meat while fresh into long strips, when it is hung on a line to dry in the sun and wind until it becomes thoroughly hardened. Sometimes it is smoked and dried, with a slow fire underneath, as are dry fish in England. It will, when prepared in either of these ways, keep for a long time. We had another article of food called Penole, which is made by parching Indian corn, then grinding it, and mixing it with cinnamon and sugar. A third, called Atole, is also worthy of mention. It is a kind of meat which, when prepared in a peculiar way, appears and tastes very like what the Americans call Mush. Mush, again, is simply maize, or Indian corn, boiled in water. Penole is especially valuable for travellers, as it requires no fire to cook it, being prepared in a minute by simply mixing it with cold water. In proportion to its weight it occupies very little space, but when prepared for use, swells to twice its former bulk. A very small quantity at a time is therefore sufficient to satisfy hunger. We had, besides, coffee and brown sugar as our chief beverage. I mention these things to show that some forethought had been exercised before starting.
As I said, we were attired in a variety of costumes, but the most common dress was a check or “hickory” shirt, buck-skin pants, a fringed hunting-shirt of the same material, gaily lined with red flannel, and ornamented with brass buttons. A coarse broad-brimmed straw hat covered the head, while the feet and legs were cased in strong cow-hide boots, reaching to the knee. Each man carried at his saddle-bow a porous leathern water-bottle. When hung up in the sun just enough of the liquid exuded deliciously to cool the rest, and in that climate this was a great luxury.
Our progress was in part directed by the places at which water could be procured. Before nightfall we prepared to camp. We first turned our horses out to feed, but as soon as it grew dark they were brought in and picketed in the centre, while we, with our saddles as pillows, lay down in the form of a square outside them, eight or ten men on each side, while the rest watched as scouts in advance. Thus several nights passed away. Our chief apprehension arose from the possibility that the Comanches, discovering our camp, might make an attack during the night on it with overwhelming numbers, and ride over us before we were prepared to receive them.
An old hunter who accompanied us gave me a vivid description of such a scene, when he was one of the few of his party who had escaped. He went by the name of Tony Flack. He was a gaunt, parchment-skinned, wizened individual, with a most lachrymose expression of countenance, which, however, did not exhibit his real character, for he was rather a merry fellow at bottom, but his jollity took some time in appearing. As a Yankee remarked, “I guess he takes a long time to pump it up.” He, in fact, did not begin to laugh till the subject of the conversation had been changed.
“I guess that was an awful time,” he began. “We’d just got into the big sandy desert, not far off from here; there was fifty of us at least, and we were all a-lying down, having no more fear of Injuns than of so many heffers, when there was a whirl and a rush just as if the Falls of Niagara and St. Anthony was running a race.
“‘It’s a stampede!’ shouted one. I looked up. There I saw in the moonlight a thousand warriors, their white shields and spears glistening in the moonbeams, as they galloped right down upon us. Some of our men sprang to their feet, and attempted to defend themselves; but the savages darted on and cut them down, and ran them through in a moment. I was so much astonished that I rolled over with my saddle above my head, and this, I guess, saved my scalp, for most of my companions lost theirs. I thought the mass of warriors would never have done passing. Not one of their horses touched my body, but the loud trampling continued, and the shrieks and cries of my companions rang in my ears as the spears of our assailants went through them, or they were trampled on by their mustangs. At last the noise of the tramping ceased, though I could hear the shouts of the Indians in the distance as they drove off our horses. I knew their ways, and that some of them would certainly return before long to take our scalps. I lifted my head up from under my saddle, and seeing no one moving, I crept away towards some rocks which I had observed before night closed in at a little distance from the camp. I was afraid of speaking, lest any Indians might have remained near—indeed, I thought that all my companions were killed. On I crept, scarcely daring to lift my head above the ground, lest I should be seen. I endeavoured also not to move a stone, or a bush, for fear of being heard. More than once I stopped to listen, fancying that some one was approaching. I did, however, reach the rock, and scarcely had I got behind it, than I again heard the trampling of horses, and then once more arose the fearful shrieks of some of my companions who had remained alive, and whom the savages had now returned to scalp. I wasn’t much given to fainting, even in those days, but I nearly lost my senses as I heard the dreadful cries of my friends, and thought how narrowly I had escaped from the same fate, and that even now it might overtake me. I dared scarcely to breathe till I heard the Indians once more retreating. At daylight I crept out cautiously from my shelter; no one was moving. I advanced towards our camp. I have seen many dreadful sights, but never one more horrid than I then gazed upon. There lay the bodies of my companions; the heads of all of them had been robbed of their hair scalps, while the ground was stained with blood from their wounds. Most of the arms and property had been carried off, but there was food enough and to spare. I loaded myself with as much as I could carry, and, to my great satisfaction, I found a rifle with ammunition, which had been dropped. I must now, I concluded, find my way back to the States as best I could. I had begun my march eastward, when I heard a foot-fall. I started, expecting to see a scalping-knife whirling over my head. My heart leaped with joy when I saw one of my friends. He, like me, had escaped and hid himself before the return of the Indians. We trudged on together across the desert, often thinking that we should never get back to our friends; but we succeeded at last. For some months I fancied that I should never again set my face to go westward, but in time I got tired of a quiet life, and have lived out in these parts pretty well ever since.”
Just as the speaker ceased a cloud of dust was seen in the distance, and out of it emerged our scouts galloping at headlong speed.
