Adventures in the Far West

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Eight.

We and the savage Redskins were both utterly helpless; they from being overcome by liquor, we from having our arms firmly bound to the trees. All the efforts we had made to liberate ourselves had only tended to draw more tightly the thongs; while we were left to contemplate the dreadful fate to which we were doomed as soon as the savages had recovered from the fumes of the spirits they had swallowed. All sorts of horrible ideas passed through my mind. Should a pack of wolves come to the camp, they might, helpless as we were, tear us to pieces, as well as the unconscious Indians. It would be a worse fate than any the savages might inflict upon us. Scarcely had the idea entered my brain, than the well-known howls and yelps of the animals I dreaded reached my ears. Louder and louder they grew. They were approaching the camp. In a few minutes they would be upon us. It was no fancy of my brain, for my companions heard them also. Darkness prevented us from seeing each other’s countenances; but I could distinguish Dick, who was nearest me, again making efforts to free himself, and he could not help crying out in desperation when he found himself foiled as before. The wolves were close upon us, when presently we heard the tramp of a horse’s feet, and one of our own animals, which either Armitage or Jack had been riding, and from whose back the Indians had neglected to remove the saddle dashed by, closely pursued by a pack of large wolves, who intent on the chase did not regard us. I saw the head of an Indian lifted up for a moment, awakened to partial consciousness by the yelping of the wolves and the tramp of the horse; but perhaps the savage fancied he was dreaming, for the next moment his head again sank to the ground. We were preserved for the moment, but what would happen should the wolves succeed in pulling down and devouring the horse? They would, to a certainty, return and attack us, as we had feared; or, even if they did not, the Indians would be recovering from their debauch. I could only hope that they had not consumed all the liquor, and that the first to awaken would take another pull at the bottles. In spite of our fearful position, a drowsiness began to steal over me, produced perhaps by exhaustion. I even now do not like to think of those dreadful hours, when my mind dwelt on the various tortures the savages were wont to inflict on their helpless prisoners. I fully expected that arrows would be shot at my limbs while all vital parts were avoided; to have my flesh burnt with hot irons; to be scalped; to suffer the most lingering and painful of deaths. In vain I tried to banish such thoughts, and to encourage the stupor stealing over me. At length I had almost succeeded, though I was not really asleep, when I heard a voice whisper in my ear, “Do not move or speak when you find the thongs cut.”

The next instant I was free. The darkness prevented me seeing clearly what was happening to my companions, but I could distinguish a figure stealing along the ground, and appearing behind each of them.

“Now friends! you have your choice, either to cut the throats of the Redskins as they lie, or to catch the horses and put a wide space between them and yourselves before daybreak,” said a voice which I recognised as that of old Folkard—“don’t trust those villains, they may not be as fast asleep as you fancy. If they hear you moving they may be on their feet again before you have had time to pass your knives across their throats.”

“Savages as they are, I would not for one moment dream of killing them, whatever they intended to do to us,” said Jack.

Armitage and Story agreed with him, as did I. We therefore at once resolved to steal off as soon as we had recovered our rifles, the only weapons of which we had been deprived; and though they were close to where our captors were sleeping, they might easily be reached. Our plan was then to try and get hold of our horses, and when they were secured we might recover the remainder of our property and deprive the Indians of their arms. We should thus teach them a lesson of mercy; for when they recovered their senses they could not fail to see how completely they had been in our power, and that we might have put the whole of them to death had we been so disposed.

The old trapper volunteered to manage the most dangerous part of the undertaking, that of recovering our rifles. Telling us to remain where we were, apparently still bound to the trees, he crept forward on hands and knees, disappearing in the surrounding gloom. Not a sound did we hear until he came back, carrying in either hand a rifle, which he placed at our feet. He then made a second trip, which was as successful as the first; but the Indians’ spears and several of our spare rifles had still to be obtained. He went very cautiously to work, for he was evidently not at all confident that one of the Indians might not awake. I would gladly have assisted him, had he not urged us to remain quiet. I felt greatly relieved when he at length returned with the last rifles.

“But we want our saddles!” whispered Dick.

I told Folkard where to find them.