Adventures in the Far West

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Had I not been so severely injured, I should not have cared so much; for having just before taken a good meal, I could have gone without food until the following day. I felt sure that my friends would come to search for me, but it might be long before I should be discovered, and the pain I suffered warned me of the importance of getting into camp as soon as possible.

My rifle was loaded, and I fired it off two or three times, hoping that the sound might be heard. I listened eagerly expecting a reply. A perfect silence, however, reigned over the vast plain. At length I became seriously anxious about my safety. I was still convinced that I was riding towards the west, and I pushed on. From the feeling in my legs, I fancied they must have swelled to twice their natural size, but on looking down they appeared as usual. The pain caused my spirits to sink, and all sorts of gloomy thoughts passed through my mind. Again and again I looked round. At length I saw in the far distance, an object moving over the plain, which I at once conjectured was a horseman, though I could only distinguish the upper part of his body. I turned my horse’s head towards him, and raised my rifle in the air, hoping that he might perceive it. As I got nearer, I saw, by the plume on his head, that he was an Indian, and I naturally concluded that he was either Yellow Wolf or one of his braves, or perhaps one of our own people. I was somewhat surprised, however, when instead of coming on directly towards me, he turned to the right, and began to move on at a gallop over the ground. I then perceived that his headdress was different to that of my friends, and that he carried a long shield and spear, as well as a bow and arrows. I had just reached a slight knoll, on which I pulled up that I might the more carefully survey the stranger. An attentive look at him convinced me that he was a Coomanche, one of the same people who had before attacked us, so that I knew I must treat him as an enemy rather than a friend. Should I let him get near me, I felt pretty sure that, if he was a Coomanche, he would play me some treacherous trick. I therefore unslung my rifle, and in a loud voice shouted to him to keep his distance.

He heard me clearly enough, but instead of stopping galloping towards me, he threw himself on the side of his horse, and, before I could cover him with my rifle, I saw the head of an arrow projecting over his saddle. To avoid it by retreating was impossible, so, bringing my rifle up to my shoulder, I gave a sudden jerk to my rein, which made my horse step back a few paces, and the arrow, aimed at my body, flew by in front of his nose. I had refrained from firing. The Coomanche, for such I concluded that he was, seeing that he was in my power—having shot another arrow which in his flurry, he was prevented aiming truly—galloped off to a distance.

I now shouted to him, threatening to kill his horse, and advising him to take himself off. He seemed doubtful, apparently, what to do. He might have hoped, that, should I execute my threat, he might still bring me down with an arrow, and by mounting my steed make his escape; but he must have been well aware there are many chances in warfare, and that I might shoot him instead of his steed. He might have guessed, by my not having fired, that I had my wits about me. I of course narrowly watched his movements, and seeing him glance over his shoulder, the idea occurred to me, that he was expecting others of his tribe to appear, in which case I should have but little chance of escaping.

At length he decided how to act. Once more he made at me, shooting a couple of arrows in rapid succession. One went through the sleeve of my coat; another struck the saddle, narrowly missing my legs, but did not pierce through the leather.

He might have half-a-dozen more arrows in his hand, and it was necessary to be cautious. As he circled round, I kept turning so as always to face him, when he was afraid of riding directly at me, for should he do so, he would he knew inevitably expose himself, and I should scarcely fail to miss him. His object was, I concluded, to keep me employed until the arrival of his friends. It would be folly to do as he wished. As long as I remained on the same spot, I could at any moment take a steady aim at him. Though he was aware of this, he trusted to my not firing, for fear of being unarmed should he charge me. At length he came so near, that I resolved not to lose the opportunity of knocking over his horse. I aimed just behind the animal’s shoulder, and must have shot it through the heart; for, giving one bound, it fell over dead. The active Indian, however, in a moment

extricating himself, leapt to his feet, and came bounding towards me.

In a moment my trusty sword was out of its sheath, when, with a howl of disappointed rage, the Coomanche, seeing it uplifted to cut him down, turned tail and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. I immediately reloaded and should, I believe, have shot the Redskin also; but I had no wish to take the poor wretch’s life, though, for my own safety, I determined to do so, should he again approach me. At that moment, the sun coming out from behind a cloud, just above the horizon, shone on a distant peak, which I had remarked from our camp. I had now no doubt as to the direction I should take. In spite of the agony the movement caused me, I put my horse into a gallop, leaving my late antagonist to pursue his way unhindered, and steered my course towards the north-west, where I hoped before long to discover my friends. The sun, however, sunk before I had seen either them or the Indian wigwams. Still the glow in the western sky guided me long after darkness had crept over the open prairie. When that disappeared, I was again at a loss how to keep a straight course. Throwing therefore the reins on my horse’s neck, I trusted to his instinct to lead me aright.

I had gone on for two hours in the darkness when, to my joy, I saw a bright light ahead. It was that, I had little doubt, of our own camp fire. I was not mistaken. In a short time Dick’s cheery voice welcomed me. He and my other companions had become anxious at my non-appearance. I was almost falling from my horse, and could not have dismounted without assistance. On telling them of my fight with the Coomanche, Pierre immediately sent off to tell our Indian friends of my suspicions that a party of their enemies were in the neighbourhood.