Dick Onslow Among the Redskins

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“What are they about now? They seem to have some scheme in reserve,” I observed to Obed. Scarcely had I spoken when some who had retired again came forth, accompanied by a stout, sturdy-looking warrior, who, however, did not seem very anxious to advance. He held a rifle in his hand, which he fired every now and then as he advanced; but he was very long in loading it, and each time his bullet whistled above our heads. His companions were too intent on the attack to observe this. Just then we were joined by old Sam Short. I pointed out the warrior to him.

“Why!” he exclaimed, “those fellows are Pawnees, the very villains from whom I escaped, and that seeming chief is no other than poor Noggin. Tell your fellows not to hurt him, and I will have a talk with him before long. If I can get him to draw off the Pawnees, we may easily settle with the remainder of the Dacotahs, whom you have, I see, handled pretty severely already.” Saying this, the old hunter disappeared among the tents, but speedily came back rigged out in the most fantastic fashion, holding a long staff in his hand literally covered with rags and tatters, which as he held it aloft streamed in the wind. We, meantime, had been effectually keeping the enemy at bay. “I think this will do for the nonce,” he exclaimed; “give them one volley more, and then let me see what I can do.”

We followed his advice, and the moment we ceased firing, while the enemy were still skipping about to avoid our shots, he rushed from among us, crying out, “Noggin, old friend, tell your fellows that the mighty medicine-man of all the Indians has come to get them out of a great scrape, and that the sooner they take themselves away from this the better.”

The Indians, astonished at his sudden appearance, hung back, and no one attempted to attack him, as I fully expected they would have done. Noggin, on hearing the voice of his old friend, instantly called his companions around him, we meantime taking care to reserve our fire for our old enemies the Dacotahs. Presently we saw the Pawnees drawing off, while the old hunter, indulging in all sorts of fantastic gestures, came hurrying back to the camp, no one attempting to stop him. I asked him why he had not brought his friend Noggin with him.

“Ah, he is an honest fellow,” he answered. “He refused to come without Mrs Noggin. The poor girl had trusted to him, had saved his life, and he would not desert her. I honour him for it, but I do not despair of seeing him and her yet. If he can induce her to come, he will bring her as soon as he can make his escape from her tribe. He has no wish to live the life of a red-skin for the remainder of his days. It is my desire, and I think it will be his, to join my fortunes to yours. From what I hear you are bound for California, and I should like to go and try my luck in that country too. I may be of use to you, and you will afford me that companionship which I begin to feel the want of in my old age. I have no fancy again to run the risk of being scalped or roasted, or having to lie down and die by myself like a worn-out old wolf, or other wild beast in the desert.”

The Raggets and I expressed our satisfaction at the thoughts of having so experienced a hunter as our companion, and that matter was settled off-hand. The Dacotahs had retired when they saw the Pawnees drawing off. They probably tried to ascertain the cause of this desertion. They made but one more very faint attack, and finding, as we supposed, that their chance of success was less than ever, finally retired out of sight into the wood. We could not restrain our Indian allies from rushing out to scalp the slain, though we warned them against surprise, and charged them not to touch the wounded; but I suspect they did not much heed our words. They came back with fully thirty scalps, saying that our bullets had made such sure work, that every one was killed outright. As the day drew on, we were more and more convinced that our enemies had had enough of it. We sent out our scouts, who felt their way cautiously, following their trails. The chief body of the Dacotahs had gone off to the north and east, while the Pawnees had taken the direction of the north-west. The latter had retired with deliberation and order, while the former had made a hurried retreat. A little later in the day a scout came in, saving that the Pawnees had halted about five miles off.

“Then I know the reason why,” observed Short. “Noggin has persuaded them to halt, and, depend on it, he will try to escape with his wife. If some of you would aid me, I should like to go and meet him, to help him along.”

Obed and I and John Pipestick agreed to accompany him, with four of our Indian allies. As soon as it was dusk we set off on our expedition. We crept cautiously along from the very fist in Indian file, the scout who had discovered the trail leading, and Short going next. Indeed, the man who wishes to keep the scalp on his head cannot be too cautious when in the Indian country, and with enemies in the neighbourhood. Not a word was spoken, scarcely a sound was heard, while we kept our rifles trailing by our sides, ready for use at a moment’s notice. We could not tell, of course, whether the Dacotahs or Pawnees might not have taken it into their heads to come back and attack us, or, at all events, might not have left some scouts to watch our proceedings. We went on thus, till the sounds of drums beating, bones rattling, keeping time to the voices of human beings, creating a most unpleasant sort of music, warned us that we were in the neighbourhood of the Pawnee camp. It was difficult to say when Noggin might take the opportunity of slipping away. It might be at once, while all the noise was going forward, or it might not be till the inhabitants of the camp were asleep. So we all sat down and watched in silence.

It was agreed that Short should go forward and meet his friend, so as not to alarm him. I must own that I had fallen asleep, and was dreaming of old England and my comfortable arm-chair, when I was awoke by finding my companions rising and beginning to move on at a rapid rate—I was so sleepy that I could not tell where. On we went, no one speaking, following each other as before, so I judged that it would be wise not to speak either.

It was still very dark, all I could do was to see the person immediately preceding me. On, on, we went: at last we began to go up hill, and I found that we were approaching our own camp. The light of our fires was shining brightly from it. Obed answered with a cheerful voice to the challenge of our sentinels, and as we entered our stockade I found, for the first time, that our party was increased by two persons. One was habited in the full costume of a red-skin chief, and a big commanding-looking fellow he was; the other was an Indian squaw; she was a fine but modest girl, and she seemed to shrink back with true feminine timidity from the gaze of so many strangers. To my surprise I found that the handsome chief, who decidedly would have created a great sensation in any London drawing-room, and, perhaps, have won the hearts of half a dozen young ladies, and persuaded them to settle down as the mistress of his faithful retainers in his extensive territories in the Far West, was no other than Tom Noggin, whose adventures I had just been hearing. I do not know what sort of an orator Tom might have made as an Indian, his English vernacular was not of the choicest.