The Wolf Hunters: A Story of the Buffalo Plains

by Robert Morris Peck

My nest in the hay was a good enough point for observation but not for defence, but I went back there to think things over.

The waning moon would rise about midnight. If the Indians waited till then before attacking I should command a somewhat clearer view of my surroundings.

I thought that the dog should reach the wagon in an hour after leaving me and felt sure that it would not be long after that before he set out on his longer run to the fort. This should take two or three hours, and I could only guess the time that would be occupied in awakening Bill and his dressing and rousing Saunders and then getting out Saunders' company. It seemed to me the troops ought to be on the way by midnight at the latest, and they ought to reach my companions in two hours from that time.

I had heard no shots from the direction of the wagon since dark, but a long time after the dog had left me, and while I was watching for the rising moon, I heard a shot or two, apparently from the rifles of the Indians, with no reply from the guns of my comrades. I supposed—rightly, as I afterward learned—that Found had reached the wagon and that the two men, by lighting matches to read my note, had drawn the fire from the Indians. On the other hand, it seemed to me possible that the Indians might have seen the dog and killed him.

At length a little light appeared in the east. The moon was about to rise, and it must be after midnight. When the moon looked over the tops of the timber and the light grew, I began to scrutinize objects in my vicinity and thought that a little way down the ravine I saw something like a wolf. It seemed to change its position a little several times, but remained too long in one place to be a wolf.

I was considering going into the dugout to get the field-glasses but had not yet moved when suddenly a streak of fire, rocket-like, shot up from the object I had been looking at, described a graceful curve, and struck in the hay a few feet from me. It was a fire-arrow shot by an Indian, to set fire to the haystack. The Indian could not have known that I was lying in the hay but thought that by firing it he would draw me out of the dugout and in the light of the fire would get a good shot at me.

I knew it would be folly to try to extinguish the blaze that at once sprang up. I jumped up, gathering blankets and buffalo robes in my arms, to run across to the dugout, and as I rose and showed up against the blaze I heard the crack of a rifle, and felt the shock of a bullet in the bundle in my arms. I was not hurt and dashed for the cabin door, and as I entered on a run I heard the report of another rifle from up the ravine and the spat of the bullet on the door-frame. The hay was now burning briskly, but I felt no anxiety for our horses in the stable almost under the fire, for the thick dirt roof protected them.

I closed and barred the door and then scrambled through the tunnel up into the tent and looked out through a port-hole which gave a good view for fifty yards up and down the valley.

I caught a glimpse of the Indian who had fired the hay as he looked out from behind a projecting bank, but could not see enough of him to justify shooting in the uncertain light. Of the Indian who had come near hitting me as I entered the cabin, I could see nothing. As I turned to look again at the first Indian I saw him stealthily move out from his concealment, crouching down, apparently peering at the cabin door. Pushing the muzzle of my carbine through the port-hole in front of me, I took as careful aim at him as I could and fired. I saw that I had hit him, for he dropped his rifle, fell, and rolled into the water but quickly scrambled back to his hiding-place and did not again show himself; but the flash of my rifle had been seen by my watchful neighbor up the ravine, who an instant later sent a bullet through the top of the tent over my head.

Presently the hay burned out and only the faint light of the moon showed the indistinct objects to me. Still I could see well enough up and down the ravine so that neither Indian could approach the door of the dugout without being seen. I had been standing on a bale of skins, which enabled me to look out of the port-hole, but now got down and cut another port-hole near the bottom of the tent, so that while lying protected by the bales I could watch for the flash of my neighbor's gun when next he fired. I could not see that the other Indian had attempted to recover his rifle and was disposed to think that my first shot had perhaps made him no longer dangerous.