Dick Onslow Among the Redskins

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I hope, Short,” said I, “that they respected our intentions, and left them there unhurt.”

“They left them there, you may be sure, Dick,” answered Sam quietly. “But you may be equally sure that they cut the throats of every mother’s son of them.”

“Cruel, murderous wretches!” I exclaimed.

“It’s their way of doing things,” said Sam. “As they are taught in their youth, so they act now they’ve grown up. If you had been taught to scalp your enemies when you were a boy, you’d do the same with pleasure now, whenever you had a chance!”

I could not deny that this would too probably have been the case, and therefore made no further remarks on the subject, only feeling thankful that I had been born in a Christian land, and brought up with Christian principles.

The meeting with these Indians caused another short delay, and they and their wives, and children, and dogs, falling into the rear of our party, we all proceeded together. The women and children, I ought to have said, had been hid away among the rocks, and were only produced at the last moment, as we were moving on. We could not object to White Dog’s tribe accompanying us, but as they came but scantily furnished with provisions, we were under some considerable apprehension that they would create a famine in our camp.

A strong party of us, consisting of Short and Noggin, and some of the Raggets, and myself, with old White Dog and several of his tribe, now pushed on to occupy the pass which led into the one through which we were travelling. We soon reached it, and, climbing up the surrounding heights, looked around. As far as the eye could range, not a moving obstacle was visible; all was silent and solitary. We had purposely concealed ourselves in case an enemy should be approaching, and as I stood on that mountain height looking out into the distance over interminable snow-covered ranges of rock, I was more sensible than I had ever before been of the sensation of solitude; never before had I remarked silence so perfect. Truly it seemed as if Nature was asleep. So she was: it was the sleep of winter.

In England, where birds are constantly flying about, and often insects humming, even at Christmas, we have no conception of the utter want of all appearance of life in the mountain regions in which I was now travelling. We waited on the watch till the main body of our party came up, and then, seeing no enemies, pushed on to our camping-ground. I must say that I was very glad to get there without meeting with the Flintheads. I felt sure that as soon as they found out the fate of their friends, they would track us, and, if they could, not leave one of our party alive. Probably Laban and others thought the same, but wisely kept their thoughts to themselves.

We fortified ourselves as usual, and kept a strict watch during the night. The weather was much less cold than it had been; indeed, there were evident signs of the coming of spring, and it became more than ever evident that we must push on before the frozen-up torrents should again burst forth, and render many spots impassable. After a hurried breakfast, we were once more on our way; we marched in true military order, with an advanced and a rear guard; the first carried spades, and acted as a pioneer corps. This morning I was in the rear guard, with Obed and Short, and all the Indians with their old chief. We had marched about a mile, and had just entered one of the defiles I have spoken of, with lofty cliffs on each side, and the mountains rising, it seemed, sheer up above our heads for thousands of feet, when I saw the Indians prick up their ears; then they stopped and bent down to the ground as if to listen. There was a great talking among them, and old White Dog called to Short: and Short announced to us the unpleasant information that we were pursued by a large body of Flintheads. They could not have overtaken our party in a position more advantageous to us; for, from the narrowness of the pass, even should they be very superior in numbers, we could show as good a front as they could. While our main body moved on with the women and children and goods, I and about a dozen young men remained with the Indians to defend the pass, and to drive back, if we could, our enemies.

“There’s one thing we may look for,” observed Sam Short; “they’ll fight to the last gasp, rather than lose the chance of their revenge; only don’t let any of us get into their hands alive, that’s all; they’d try our nerves in a way we should not like, depend on that.”