Every man among us looked to his rifle, and felt that his hunting-knife was ready to his hand in his belt. We advanced a little farther, and then halted at a spot where it seemed impossible that the Indians could scale the heights to get at us. We had not long to wait. Suddenly before us appeared a band of Indians just turning an angle of the pass. On they came at a rapid pace till the whole road, as far as the eye could reach, seemed full of them. As soon as they perceived us, they set up the most terrific yells, and rushed frantically forward. We waited for them steadily, but I feared, by the very force of their charge, that our people would be overthrown and driven back.
“Now, lads,” exclaimed Laban, as they came on, “be steady. Wait till I give the word. Fire low. Don’t let the bullets fly over their heads. Bring down the leading men. Now ready—Fire!”
All obeyed our brave leader, and several in the front ranks of the enemy fell. Yet it did not stop the rest, but rushing on with the fiercest shrieks, they threw themselves madly upon our party. The White Dog’s followers bore the brunt of the charge, and very gallantly did they behave. Again and again the Flintheads were driven back, and again and again they came on. They seemed resolved to conquer or die. There must have been nearly a hundred warriors among them. The air was at times darkened with their arrows, besides which a number had rifles. Four or five of our Indian allies had been killed, as had one of our people, and numbers had been wounded. We kept up at them a hot fire all the time, and many of them fell. Still, in proportion to our numbers, we had lost more men than they had. Once more the whole column rushed on together. I fully thought that we were lost, when, as I glanced my eye upward, I saw what I fancied was the mountain-top bend forward. Yes, I was not mistaken! Down it came with a wild, rushing noise directly towards us, shaking the very ground on which we stood. The Indians saw it too, but it did not stop them, as with headlong speed they were rushing towards us, about to make another onslaught. They and White Dog’s people met, and the last I saw of them they were dashing their tomahawks into each other’s brains.
I shouted frantically to Laban and the rest to retreat. It was a mighty avalanche, a vast mass of snow and ice. As it descended it increased in size, gathering fresh speed. As one mast of a ship drags another in its fall, so did one mountain-top seem to lay hold of the one next to it, and bring it downwards into the valley. Down, down came the mountains of snow, thundering, roaring, rushing. My brain seemed to partake of the wild commotion. I cannot attempt to describe the effect. I was leaping, running, springing back from the enemy, with every muscle exerted to the utmost, in the direction the women and baggage had gone. Laban and his sons were near me, I believed, but already dense showers of snow, or rather solid masses, the avant-coureurs of the avalanche, were falling down on us and preventing me seeing anything many feet from where I was. Unearthly shrieks and cries of terror and despair reached my ears; a mass of snow struck me, and brought me to the ground deprived of consciousness.
Chapter Fifteen.
I find myself under the snow—My attempts to escape appear to be vain—Struggle on—Am free, but find myself alone among the mountains—Push on—Encounter a grizzly bear—A fight—Will he eat me, or shall I eat him?—The pleasantest alternative occurs, and Bruin saves my life—I hurry on in the hopes of overtaking my friends—Take up my lodging for the night in a cavern.
When I saw the avalanche come thundering down towards me, although I used my utmost exertions to escape, I in reality had completely given myself up for lost. My feelings were very bitter, but they were of short duration, when I was brought stunned to the ground. I came to myself at last, or I should not be writing this; but where I was, or what had occurred, it was some time before I could recollect. At last a dim consciousness came over me that something terrific had happened, and I opened my eyes and looked about; I was under the snow, or rather under a mass of ice in a space ten or twelve feet long, and about three high, being rather wider at the base. This was a very respectable sized tomb, and such I feared that it would prove to me, unless I could work my way out of it. Of course I knew that I might be released when the snow melted, but I should inevitably be starved long before that event could take place, not to speak of dying of chill, and damp, and rheumatism.
My principle has always been never to say die; if it had been otherwise I should not be again in Old England. My rifle lay on the ground close to me where I had fallen; my hand still grasped the long pike I always carried, and the ever constant weapon of the backwoodsman, my hatchet, was in my belt. I crawled along to one end of the icy cavern, tapping the roof to ascertain if there was any crack through which I may work my way, but it was one solid sheet of ice; the end was blocked up also by a solid mass, through which, after making several attempts, I found it impossible to bore. Finding all my efforts useless at this end, I went to the other. Appearances were not promising; still I would not allow myself to believe that by some means or other I might not work my way out of my icy prison. Not a moment was to be lost; my friends might go away and suppose I had perished, or I might be starved or exhausted before I could reach the open air. It was a great thing having a little space to start from, though it was little enough. I set to work at once, therefore, with my axe, and began chopping away at the ice. My idea was to cut myself out a circular shaft, and thus, like a mole, work my way up. I chopped and chopped away, and when I had cut a couple of feet out of the mass, I carried the chips to the farther end of the cave; my object in doing this was to obtain sufficient air to breathe, for I found that I very soon consumed what there was in the cave, and that the heat of my body had already begun to melt the ice above me. I suffered, therefore, rather from heat than from cold; I went chopping on till I had space enough in which to stand upright. This was a very great advantage; I felt most encouraged, and could now work with far greater ease than at first, when I had to be on my back, and to chop away above me. I felt very thankful that I was not a miner, either in a coal, iron, or lead mine.