“I was m’anin’ to take it aff, sir, as soon as I could git the cratur’ quiet,” replied Dennis, as he dismounted.
The head of the ravine, where the four men were collected with their horses, was quite narrow, with steep sides, which were covered pretty thickly with trees and undergrowth. Darkness was rapidly succeeding to dusk, and all were impatient to be off.
As Dennis dismounted, one of his led horses slipped its thong, and started off. When he turned hastily to catch it, he loosed the mare, which galloped away at full speed, her bell clattering noisily as she went. Directly there was a great commotion among the herd of horses down in the ravine, and it was evident that they were stampeding.
“Tare an’ ouns!” exclaimed the indignant Irishman. “The bloody divil has got away, afther all me throuble. May ivery hair on her tail turn to a hickory sthick, to bate her as long as she can dhraw a breath.”
“Hold your clattering tongue!” exclaimed Benning. “You make more noise than the infernal bell. The Indians will be down on us in no time, and we may thank our stars if we get out of this scrape. Mount the horse you are holding, and ride as if fire were behind you.”
Dennis was about to mount, when he was suddenly seized from behind, and dragged into the bushes. The next instant the ravine was vocal with savage yells, and the white men found themselves surrounded with savage Indians.
Escape seemed impossible; but Benning was not a man to lose his life without an effort to preserve it. Loosing his led animal, he discharged his rifle at the group of Indians before him, and then, putting his horse to the top of his speed, dashed down the ravine, overturning and scattering his antagonists as he went.
Bullets and arrows flew after him; but he sped on unhurt, until he had gone about a quarter of a mile, when his horse suddenly stopped, in front of a perpendicular wall of rock, that seemed to close up the ravine.
Bewildered at meeting this unexpected obstacle, he was about to turn and endeavor to cut his way back in the opposite direction, when he reflected that he had been following the bed of a stream, which must surely cañon at the wall of rock.
Straining his sight through the growing darkness he saw what seemed to be an opening, and pushed his horse for it, bending down upon the horse’s neck, to save his head from contact with the rocky roof. The horse went forward, slowly but surely, and Benning thought that he was about to emerge from the cañon, when, to his great dismay, he found himself wedged fast in the opening. With words and kicks he tried to force his steed forward, but it would not budge. He had given himself up for lost; but an arrow from behind struck his horse in the rear, and, with a violent effort, it squeezed through the aperture.