The Young Scout: The Story of a West Point Lieutenant

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

“As soon as it was dark, they stole from the island. There was little hope that they would succeed, but both men were brave and cool-headed, and, if the thing were possible, they were the ones to accomplish it. The defenders waited long and listened, and hearing nothing, believed they had been captured. At dusk on the second day, during which there was continuous fighting, two more scouts were sent out, but they were discovered and barely succeeded in getting back to the island. This convinced all that Stillwell and Trudeau had failed, but such was not the fact.

“Those two scouts, in leaving the island, moved down stream, keeping as near the middle as they could. The water was so shallow that neither could swim, and they crawled on their hands and knees for most of the distance. Lucky for the men, the night was clouded, and the moon had set before they left the island. They kept in the river for three miles when they waded ashore, and, hiding their trail as best they could, made for the nearest timber. When day dawned, they were ten miles from the river and their danger was greater than ever. The Indians were patrolling the stream, on the watch for just such attempts and the prairie grass was so short that it was impossible for the scouts to advance without exposing themselves. The only way to escape capture was to conceal themselves and wait for night.

“Sweeping the surrounding prairie, they observed a spot where the grass was about a foot higher than the rest. With the utmost care they crept to it and found it just the place they wanted. The dead body of some animal had acted as a fertilizer, causing the grass to grow with more vigor and density than elsewhere. The bones were those of a buffalo whose flesh had disappeared long before.

“Lying down in this hiding place, the scouts munched the slight meal they had brought with them, and then peeped out at their surroundings, which were anything but reassuring. Indian horsemen seemed to be moving on all sides, and the sound of firing from up the river showed that fighting had been renewed. Neither of the scouts dared rise from a prone position, and were in constant danger of discovery. If some of the sharp-eyed redskins detected the trail leading from the river, they were certain to follow it to the clump of grass.

“Trudeau and Stillwell agreed to take turns in sleeping and watching for every three hours. Trudeau was the first to act as sentinel. He lay upon his side, took a big chew of his army plug tobacco, and peeped between the blades of grass, while his companion slept. Before long Trudeau saw a sight which was so alarming that he awoke his companion. Twenty Indian horsemen were approaching and were sure to pass very close to the clump of grass, even if they did not ride through it.

“Stillwell peeped out and said:

“‘We’ve got to hug the ground close, but if they see us, they’ll find out we come high.’ ‘You bet,’ replied Trudeau and the two grimly waited events.

“The Indians seemed to have no special business, and rode so slowly that it was a long time before they reached the point only a hundred yards away. It was at this critical moment that a feeling of impending danger caused Stillwell to turn his head. As he did so, he saw an immense rattlesnake gliding through the bones of the dead buffalo and coming straight toward them. It looked as if the scouts had invaded the reptile’s home, for he did that which my pet did not do—he advanced upon them with the intention of attack.

“The first thought of the men was to shoot or to club him to death with the stocks of their rifles, but any such act would have revealed their presence to the Indians now close at hand. The next thought was to stare the snake out of countenance as the rattler himself sometimes does with his victims. Stillwell made the attempt, but without any success. The snake meant business.

“The rattler came straight forward until within four feet of Trudeau, when he began coiling to strike. Not a moment was to be lost, and Stillwell made up his mind to shoot the reptile. He preferred death at the hands of the redskins to that from the bite of the rattler.