With Sully into the Sioux Land

by Joseph Mills Hanson

It was about one o'clock on that hot, still afternoon when Al and Wallace stepped out of the Smiths' store, having just finished their dinner. They were about to start over to the storehouse of the fort, where some work was still being done, when Wallace noticed a loose horse wandering down into one of the ravines not far from the store.

"That's one of our horses," he exclaimed. "He must have slipped his halter. If he goes far the Indians will catch him. Come on; let's get him!"

Followed by Al, he dashed into the stable for a halter and then started on a run for the ravine. The latter was quite wide and thickly fringed with bushes and small trees, while the bottom of it was carpeted with luxuriant grass, which the horse was nibbling as they came up. But their appearance startled him and with a snort he leaped past them and galloped on some distance further, when he again halted. The boys followed, Wallace this time approaching more diplomatically and saying in a soothing tone,

"Come, Frank; come boy! Nice boy!"

"He'll give you a jolt in the ribs if you get too close," warned Al, as he noticed the animal begin to edge his hind feet around in the direction of Wallace.

But Frank was not so mischievous as he looked; for in a moment Wallace had the halter on his head and the boys were just about to turn again up the ravine toward the fort, when, without the least warning, there sprang from the bushes not ten yards behind them two Indian warriors, dressed only in breech-clouts and both armed with bows and arrows. Uttering not a sound they sprang toward the boys with the evident intention of taking them alive. Al and Wallace were too dumbfounded to move until the Indians were almost upon them. Then Wallace dropped the horse's halter and, catching up a heavy stick lying at his feet, hurled it at the head of one of the warriors. It caught the savage fairly across the face and he reeled for an instant from the force of the blow, while his companion, somewhat daunted, halted also. The boys ran at full speed up the ravine, not even pausing to note the effect of Wallace's throw, which he afterward admitted had found its mark by pure accident. They had gone but a few yards when an arrow whizzed past Al's head and struck in the ground in front of them. They only ran the faster. A half-dozen more arrows flew by them and then Wallace uttered a cry of pain as one struck him fairly in the left arm. But by this time, fortunately, they were at the head of the ravine and only a few feet from the nearest buildings. Al stole a glance behind him, to see that their two pursuers had been joined by more than a dozen others; and then the boys dashed around the corner of the building, out of range, shouting at the tops of their voices,

"Indians! Indians!"

All over the fort men sprang to their feet, seized their guns, and such as were not already behind them rushed to the barricades and protected buildings. But by no means all of them had reached cover when a scattering, but numerous volley of musket shots and arrows was poured into the fort, not only out of the ravine from which the boys had escaped but from a number of others. Al then saw why the Indians following them had not fired on them with guns, for that would have spoiled the contemplated surprise of the fort, which their unexpected appearance in the ravine in pursuit of Frank had, perhaps, precipitated.

The defenders replied to the Indian fire so promptly and vigorously that the savages fell back from their first rush and concealed themselves about the heads of the ravines, whence they began a steady and well-sustained fire. The women and children, however, had nearly all reached places of shelter, when Al hurried up to the Smiths' store after his musket and revolver, almost dragging Wallace who, beside himself with pain, was frantically trying to pull the deeply imbedded arrow from his arm. They encountered Mr. Smith and his wife, accompanied by Mrs. Briscoe and Annie, who were fleeing from the exposed store, through which the Indian bullets were crashing, to the shelter of the barracks building.

"Here, Al," cried Mr. Smith, thrusting the latter's musket, revolver, and ammunition into his hands. "Don't go in there; you'll be killed. Come on, Wallace. God, lad, are you hurt?"