"It seemed as if the whole Injun nation was coming down on us. Such a crowd o' lank ponies, and painted heathen astride, yer never see. I expected seein' of 'em would prevent my ever seein' of my family agin. 'Jim,' says I to my chum, and 'Bill,' says he to me, and then we didn't say nothin' more, but as the heathen come a chargin', we both put a hand in our pockets, just as if the brains had been in one head, and then both of us took a chaw o' terbaccer.
"For the next few hours ther wur an awful scrimmage, and a shootin', and a hollerin', and a whizzin' of bullets, which made that the hottest little island ever stranded on sand. The boys had all dug out, with their hands, sort o' little rifle-pits, and fit behind 'em. We had good Spencers, with a few Henrys, and the way those patents spit lead at the devils' hearts wur a caution. The first charge, they cum close up to us, and for a hull minnit, that stretched out awfully, we were afraid they'd ride us down. It was reg'lar coffee-mill work then, grindin' away at the levers, and we flung bullets among 'em astonishin'. As fast as one Injun keeled, another'd pick him up, and nary dead was left on the field.
"They follered up the charge game by a siege one, and peppered away at us from the neighborin' ravines and hills. Ther number wur about eight hundred, and some had carbines, and others old rifles and pistols. A few would sneak along in the bottom grass, and get behind trees, and then thur would be a flash, and a crack, and the ball would come tearin' in among us, sometimes burrowin' in a human skull, or elsewise knockin' down a horse. And all around, on the ridges, the squaws were a dancin' and shoutin', and the braves, whenever any of 'em got tired of shootin', would join their ugly she's, and help 'em in kickin' up a hullabaloo.
"I reckon, arter they'd killed the last hoss, they must ha' had a separate scalp-dance fur each one on us. Plain sailin' then, ther red fellows thought—less than fifty white men down in the sand, and most a thousan' Injuns roun' 'em, and more 'n a hundred miles to the nearest fort; the weaker party bein' afoot, too, and the other mounted.
"But we soon made 'em pitch another tune, beside ther juberlatin' one. We had took notice of a big Injun, with lots o' fixins on him, cavortin' all round ther island, and a spurrin' up the braves. We made certain it wur the medicine man, and found out arterward that he'd been tellin' on 'em ther pale-faces' bullets would melt before reachin' an Injun. Six on us got our rifles together, and as ther old copper-colored Pillgarlic cum dancin' round, we let fly. If Injun carcasses go along with ther spirits, I reckon ther bullets we put into the old sinner, got melted, sure enough. And what a howlin' thur was, as his pony scampered in among the squaws, empty saddled!
"It wur an awful sight to look roun' among our little sand-works—twenty killed and wounded men, covered with blood and grit. Our leader, Col. Forsythe, was shot in both legs, a ball passin' through the thigh part of one, and a second breakin' the bones of the other below the knee. He wur a knowin' and cool officer.
"Lieut. Beecher, a nephew of the big preacher, was shot through the small o' the back, and lay thar beggin' us to kill him. He too wur a brave man, and didn't flinch, never, from duty nor danger. They say that his two sisters were drowned from a sailboat on the Hudson, two years ago, and that the old parents are left now all alone. Doc. Moore was shot through the head, and sat thar noddin', and not knowin' no one. I spoke to him once, and he kinder started back, as if he see the Injun which shot him, still thar. He wur a good surgeon, and all the boys liked him. I hev got his gun down at my tent, all full o' sand, whar it got tramped arter he fell.[4]
"Culver lay dead on one side of our little island, shot by an Injun that crawled up in the grass. Lots o' others was wounded, and our chances looked as dark as ther night which wur coming down on us. But we was glad ter see daylight burn out, as it kinder gin us a chance to rest and think.
"That night was awful dismal. The little spot o' sand, down thar in the river's bed, seemed ther only piece o' earth friendly to us, and we were clingin' to it like sailors ter a raft at sea. The darkness all around was a gapin' ter swaller us, and a hidin' its blood-hounds, to set 'em on with ther sun. Night, without any thin' in it more 'n grave-stones, is terrifyin' to most people, but just you fill it full of pantin's for blood in front, and Death sittin' behind, among the corpses, and watchin' the wounded, and a feller's blood falls right down to January. It kinder thickens, like water freezin' round the edges, and your hands and feet get powerful cold, and you feel as if you wouldn't ever be thawed out, this side of the very place you don't want ter go to.
"Toward midnight, Stillwell and Trudell crawled out o' camp, to go for relief. They were to creep and sneak through the Injun lines, and get beyond 'em by daylight. Then they would lay by, and push on ag'in, when dark cum, toward Wallace. That little spot of barracks, a hundred and twenty-five miles off, kept up our hope mightily. It was our light-house, like. We were shipwrecked among savages, and had sent a couple of yawls off, to tell the keeper thar of danger. We knew if the news reached, blue coats would flash out to us, like spots of light, and our foes go before 'em as mist.