In the Rocky Mountains

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I was taken prisoner by the Arrapahas while on my way to visit a young squaw, who is to become my wife. But on the night before I was to be tortured and put to death I managed to make my escape, and came on here at once to tell the Palefaces of their danger, of which I had heard when in the camp of the enemy.”

I suspected that Uncle Jeff did not altogether believe the account given by the Indian. At any rate, he received it with perfect composure.

“We thank you, friend Piomingo, for your good intentions. You are now at liberty to pursue your journey on your intended visit to the young squaw of whom you speak,” he answered.

“I would follow the advice of the Paleface chief, but I am weary and hungry, and require sleep and rest. He would not turn me away like a dog from his door!”

“No, I will not do that,” said Uncle Jeff. “You shall have as much food as you require, and you can lie down and sleep until you are rested; after that, you shall be welcome to depart.”

The Indian expressed his gratitude in a much longer speech than the occasion required; but when Rachel brought some food he ate it voraciously, as if he really were as hungry as he had asserted.

Clarice blushed and smiled, when the lieutenant told her how anxious he had been made by the report he had received from Maysotta, and how glad he was for the opportunity of returning.

The sergeant was by this time much better, and able to move about. Pat, too, had behaved very well. The four farm hands had been brought into the house, and Sergeant Custis and Pat had been regularly drilling them, and teaching them how to handle their muskets properly.

I found that Uncle Jeff considered matters far more serious than he had at first been willing to do. Winnemak had been urging him to allow Clarice, attended by Rachel, to quit the farm—promising to conduct them to his daughter, and to afford them protection. Should the farm be attacked, it was quite possible that the defenders might have, as a last resource, to cut their way out; and, encumbered with the two women, the risk they would have to run would be far greater than if they had only themselves to think of.

“I cannot help acknowledging that our Indian friend’s advice is sound,” observed Uncle Jeff. “If we knew that Clarice and Rachel were safe, we should fight with far more freedom than we could do with them in the house. And if matters came to the worst, we should, as he says, be able to escape with far less difficulty than if we had them to look after.”