Here was a horseman who rode as if in haste. The unaccustomed sight drew all hands around the cabin to await the coming of the stranger, who rode as if he were on some important errand bent. It was Battles. His errand was indeed momentous. A corporal from the post had come to his claim, late in the night before, bidding him warn all the settlers on the Fork that the Cheyennes were coming down the Smoky Hill, plundering, burning, and slaying the settlers. Thirteen white people had been killed in the Smoky Hill country, and the savages were evidently making their way to the fort, which at that time was left in an unprotected condition. The commanding officer sent word to all settlers that if they valued their lives they would abandon their claims and fly to the fort for safety. Arms and ammunition would be furnished to all who came. Haste was necessary, for the Indians were moving rapidly down the Smoky Hill.
“But the Smoky Hill is twenty-five or thirty miles from here,” said Mr. Bryant; “why should they strike across the plains between here and there?” 193
Battles did not know; but he supposed, from his talk with the corporal, that it was expected that the Cheyennes would not go quite to the fort, but, having raided the Smoky Hill country down as near to the post as might seem safe, they would strike across to the Republican Fork at some narrow point between the two rivers, travel up that stream, and so go back to the plains from which they came, robbing and burning by the way.
The theory seemed a reasonable one. Such a raid was like Indian warfare.
“How many men are there at the post?” asked Uncle Aleck.
“Ten men including the corporal and a lieutenant of cavalry,” replied Battles, who was a pro-slavery man. “The rest are down at Lawrence to suppress the rebellion.”
“So the commanding officer at the post wants us to come down and help defend the fort, which has been left to take care of itself while the troops are at Lawrence keeping down the free-State men,” said Mr. Bryant, bitterly. “For my part, I don’t feel like going. How is it with you, Aleck?”
“I guess we had better take care of ourselves and the boys, Charlie,” said Uncle Aleck, cheerily. “It’s pretty mean for Uncle Sam to leave the settlers to take care of themselves and the post at this critical time, I know; but we can’t afford to quibble about that now. Safety is the first consideration. What does Younkins say?” he asked of Battles. 194
“A randyvoo has been appointed at my house to-night,” said the man, “and Younkins said he would be there before sundown. He told me to tell you not to wait for him; he would meet you there. He has sent his wife and children over to Fuller’s, and Fuller has agreed to send them with Mrs. Fuller over to the Big Blue, where there is no danger. Fuller will be back to my place by midnight. There is no time to fool away.”
Here was an unexpected crisis. The country was evidently alarmed and up in arms. An Indian raid, even if over twenty miles away, was a terror that they had not reckoned on. After a hurried consultation, the Whittier settlers agreed to be at the “randyvoo,” as Battles called it, before daybreak next morning. They thought it best to take his advice and hide what valuables they had in the cabin, make all snug, and leave things as if they never expected to see their home again, and take their way to the post as soon as possible.