Behind me, a mother murdered and basely mutilated—a near relative slain in like fashion—my home—my whole property given to the flames. Before me, a sister torn from the maternal embrace—borne ruthlessly along by savage captors—perhaps defiled by their fiendish leader. And he, too, before my eyes—the false, perfidious friend, the ravisher—the murderer! Had I not cue for indulging in the wildest emotions?
And wild they were—each moment growing wilder, as I gazed upon the object of my vengeance. They were fast rising beyond my control. My muscles seemed to swell with renewed rage—the blood coursed through my veins like streams of liquid fire.
I almost forgot the situation in which we were. But one thought was in my mind—vengeance. Its object was before me—unconscious of my presence as if he had been asleep—almost within reach of my hand; perfectly within range of my rifle.
I raised the piece to the level of those drooping plumes. I sighted their tips—I knew that the eyes were underneath them—my finger rested against the trigger.
In another instant, that form—in my eyes, hitherto heroic—would have been lifeless upon the grass; but my comrades forbade the act.
With a quick instinct, Hickman grasped the lock of my gun. Covering the nipple with his broad palm; while Weatherford clutched at and held the barrel. I was no longer master of the piece.
I was angry at the interruption, but only for an instant. A moment’s reflection convinced me they had acted right. The old hunter, putting his lips close to my ear, addressed me in an earnest whisper:
“Not yit, Geordie, not yit; for your life, don’t make a fuss! ’Twould be no use to kill him. The rest o’ the varmints ud be sartin to git off, and sartin to toat the weemen along wi’ ’em. We three aint enough to stop ’em—we’d only get scalped ourselves. We must slide back for the others; an’ then we’ll be able to surround ’em—that’s the idea, aint it, Jim?”
Weatherford, fearing to trust his voice, nodded an affirmative.
“Come, then,” added Hickman, in the same low whisper, “we musn’t lose a minute; let’s get back as rapidly as possible. Keep your backs low down—genteely, genteely;” and as he continued giving these injunctions, he faced towards the ground, extended his body to its full length, and, crawling off like an alligator, was soon lost behind the trunks of the trees.