And how does friend Piscator bear himself the while? Who but a salmon-fisher can realise the bitterness of that moment when after a splendid burst by a plucky fish, through some blunder or accident his line, all limp and draggling, comes slowly back to him! But, my friend, you have just been taught a good though severe lesson: had you been ready at the critical moment, and slackened the line, by adroitly lowering the point of your rod when that sixteen-pounder practised so dangerous a manœuvre, the probabilities are that the effort of the fish would have proved abortive, and the slender link between you would not have thus been abruptly severed. But it is all over now, and you may rest awhile from your labours, and try to calm your feelings with a pipe of tobacco, while the veteran your companion moralises in your ear on the truth of the motto, Nil desperandum.
Presently a dark cloud rolls up the valley, and heavy drops of rain give notice that a shower is at hand. Our friends yonder are again bestirring themselves, and once more the heavy rod is brought into play; but fortune seems to have deserted the fisherman, for in spite of all his endeavours, yard after yard of the best water is left behind without sign of a rising fish, till at length he reaches the far end of the pool, where the river gradually widens, and the dark water changes to a brighter hue, as it glides more rapidly over a shallower bed. Here there is one last chance for the angler, and if he can only pitch his fly artistically under yonder dark holly-bush, he may yet gain the day. It is a long cast; but the fisherman throws a fine line, and the fly admirably hove skims through the air and drops like a natural insect just where the little holly-tree overshadows the water. Again that glimpse of a silvery form mounting swiftly upwards to the surface; and mark the swirling boils, indicating the rise of a heavy fish. There is a pull at the fly; the angler sharply raises the point of his rod, and once more he has hooked a lordly salmon. Again the gallant rush, the dangerous somersault, the determined struggle for dear life; but the tackle is good, the barbed steel has taken a firm hold, and all is of no avail; gradually the fisherman gains the upper hand, and inch by inch reels in the quarry, till presently the still struggling but exhausted prize lies gasping at his feet. The old man steals cautiously forward, and all trembling with excitement, approaches the water's edge; he stoops, makes a quick sure stroke with the gaff hook, and the next moment uplifts a noble fish and casts him on the sward.
But we will leave them to exult over their victory; for see! it is time to be moving; evening draws on apace, and the sun is already sinking behind the blue Kerry mountains.
[INDIAN BORDER WARFARE.]
The Indian wars in the United States are a scandal to civilisation. These wars have nearly all a similar origin. The federal government by treaty settles groups of Indians on certain lands which they are to occupy exclusively in perpetuity. In the face of this arrangement, portions of the lands are taken possession of by white squatters, and no redress can possibly be obtained from the government authorities at Washington. In short, the Indians are systematically cheated, and on their taking up arms in their own defence, a savage war ensues. Circumstances involved me in one of these wars in 1874. I was accompanying a supply train from Camp Supply, a frontier post, to an expedition operating against hostile Indians. This expedition was organised at Fort Dodge, Kansas, in the summer of 1874, to subdue the Comanches and Kiowas, who had broken out on the war-path and were committing depredations all along the Kansas border.
We left Camp Supply, to join the main command, at daylight on the 6th of September with a train of thirty-six six-mule wagons. Counting escort, teamsters, and one or two outsiders like myself, we were seventy-three in number. For the first three days no signs of Indians were seen; but every precaution was taken against them by frequently practising the teamsters in forming 'corral;' so that in the event of an attack there might be no confusion. The word 'corral' (a Spanish word, signifying an inclosure for cattle) is also used on the plains as a term for the elliptical or circular form in which a train of wagons is arranged to resist an attack by Indians; and in order that our position in the fight may be better understood, I will explain how it is formed. The teams are numbered from front to rear each morning. At a given signal all odd numbers move to the right, and even numbers to the left. When the two columns thus formed are, say, twenty or more yards apart, according to the ground and the size of the train, the leading wagons halt, and the others close up. They can then move on in parallel columns until so closely pressed by attacking Indians as to be obliged to form the 'corral' itself. To do this, the two leading wagons turn and approach each other, passing until their teams lap, when they halt, the next wagon in each column being directed so as to bring its team inside and just lapping the wagon in front. The opening is between the rear ends of the last two wagons. A 'corral' thus formed without a mule unharnessed, makes a very good defence, the mules of each team being more or less protected by the wagon in front.
To return to my story. Our route lay towards the Staked Plains, in the north-eastern corner of Texas. The Indian summer was in all its glory, and the pure bracing prairie air put us in the best of spirits. No anticipation of coming evil disturbed our minds. The hostile Indians were supposed to be on the other side of the main command, scattering in all directions before its advance. But however easy we might feel on that score, none of the usual precautions for the safety of the train were neglected, remembering the simple rule of the plains: 'If you think there are no Indians near, then is the time to be especially on your guard.' The Indians are wily and very patient, and will hover about and watch you for days and days to find you relaxing your vigilance, and at length off your guard. They see and know full well when you think they are not near. That is just the time when, as a panther which has patiently watched its prey, they make their spring. After having camped on the third night, our suspicions were aroused that Indians were in the neighbourhood by the restless behaviour of the mules. Every frontiersman knows that a mule will smell Indians and shew signs of fear long before their approach can be discovered by a human being, and the knowledge of this fact tended to increase our watchfulness.
Next morning the scouts who went out to reconnoitre returned with the intelligence that they had found fresh tracks of Indians, who had evidently been all round us during the night. This was not pleasant news; but 'forward' was the word, so we harnessed up, and proceeded on our journey, merely taking the additional precaution of forming the wagons into two parallel columns—the first step towards forming 'corral,' as I before explained. While we were crossing the 'divide' (intervening country) between the Canadian and Washita rivers, single Indian vedettes were seen at a great distance off; and on approaching a ridge which crossed our route, a small party of mounted Indians appeared on its crest. As soon as we reached a water-hole, the train was halted, mules watered, and kegs and canteens filled—a fortunate suggestion of our wagon-master. The train was now well closed up, and skirmishers thrown out on both sides parallel to it. Having done this, the march was resumed, and the attack of the savages calmly awaited.
We had not long to wait. At about three in the afternoon, at a place a mile north of the Washita river, just as the train had cleared a very deep and bad ravine, we were fiercely charged upon our right and rear by a mass of Indians, about whom were as many more in open order. They rode down on us with a ringing war-whoop to within fifty yards of the muzzles of our rifles, filling the air with their terrible yells; their object evidently being to stampede the mules and cattle of the train, and then, in the excitement and confusion that would follow, to massacre the escort and teamsters. Finely mounted, in full war-paint, their long scalp locks braided with feathers, with wild whoops and exultant shouts, on they came. It required our utmost efforts to steady the teams and get the train 'corralled.' The cool and determined behaviour of the escort at this moment perhaps decided the fate of the train. The corral was not yet completed, and the rear of the train was on the verge of a stampede. Not a man flinched, but coolly waiting until the Indians were within short range, poured a volley into their ranks, which cooled their ardour, and they swerved off to the left. As soon as the savages found that their attempt at stampeding had failed, and that our corral was formed, they followed a new plan of action, which was not to charge in a body, as before, but for each warrior to select his own time and mode of attack. This is the usual method of fighting among the Indians of the plains, and is termed 'circling.' First the chiefs led off, followed at regular intervals by the warriors, until there must have been five or six hundred riding in single file round us in a ring as rapidly as their fleet-footed ponies could carry them. Savages erect on their ponies, with shining spears and flaming blankets, and lofty fluttering head-gear, dashed along the ridges with piercing yells, appearing and swiftly disappearing, shewing portentous against the sky in the slanting sunlight. It became a wonderful display of their marvellous powers of horsemanship. They would throw themselves over on the sides of their well-trained ponies, leaving only one hand and foot exposed to our aim, and in this position would deliver their fire over or under the necks of their ponies.