They had kept it quiet, as they did not wish to cause unnecessary alarm, for they knew there was no danger, for the Indians knew they were being watched, and besides we are too many for them. Mr. Morrison started, but not quietly; he snatched off his hat, whipping his horse with it, passed Mr. Kerfoot’s wagon as fast as his horse could go. Mr. Kerfoot asked, “What is the matter?” Some one said, “Indians!”
He wound the lines round the brake-handle, leaped from his high seat on the front of the wagon, grabbed the first horse in reach, snatched Mr. Gatewood’s boy out of the saddle, jumped on the horse and came tearing toward us, lashing the horse with his long whip—his hat flew off soon after he started, but he did not know it. He passed Mr. Morrison, and meeting Cash, he stopped long enough to bring his whip over her horse’s haunches with all his might, and sent her flying toward the train. He next met me—for I started, when I saw them coming, and was perhaps a hundreds yards ahead of Neelie—and stopped and said, “Miss Sallie, do you know that we are in the very worst Indian country there is on this road?”
He did not wait for a reply, but went on to Neelie, who was looking all about to see the Indians. He gave her pony a cut with his whip, as he had Cash’s, and we went flying over the ground, Neelie’s merry laughter pealing forth. Mr. Kerfoot did not speak to either of us. Mr. Morrison had turned back with Cash, and scolded all the way, she said he stuttered and stuttered, until she had hard work to keep from laughing. The captain had stopped the train, and we were greeted with loud cheering and hurrahs.
There was considerable joking about our being anxious for an adventure, and the young men were profuse in their declarations about what they would have done if we had been captured by the Indians. Every one laughed about our “narrow escape,” as they called it, except Mr. Kerfoot; he was pale and trembling. It is a shame that he should have been so unnecessarily frightened by our thoughtlessness, and I believe he thinks it was my fault. I wonder what he would have thought if I had left Neelie to come alone?
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Wednesday, June 14.
One of the men found the skull of a human being to-day while we were stopping at noon. It seems horrible to think of one’s bones being scattered about in such manner. There is a storm coming; a storm on the plains is something to be dreaded, especially a wind-storm. Old men who have been freighting across the plains for years, say they have seen wagons upset with three tons of freight in a wind-storm. I am more afraid of a wind-storm than of Indians. The boys say I am not afraid of Indians at all.
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Thursday, June 15.
The storm came with great violence last evening; we saw it coming in time to be prepared for it, so there was no damage done. The rain came down in torrents, and made the roads as hard and smooth as a floor, not any mud. It has been fine for horseback riding, everything seems so fresh and clean and pure, and not too warm. Mr. Milt Walker joined us about an hour before camping time. He seems a very pleasant gentleman.