I begged the Indians to assist me in carrying the injured man back to the camp, and the chief bade them do as I desired. Obtaining some poles from a copse which grew near, they quickly formed a litter, upon which they bore him back to the spot from which we had started. Not a groan escaped him, although I suspected, from the expression of his countenance, that he was suffering greatly. On arriving at the camp, in spite of my representations the chief ordered that his legs should be bound together, and that one of his hands should be fastened to a tree, so that he would be unable to escape.
Those who had remained in camp had prepared breakfast, to which even the wounded did ample justice. I took some food to the prisoner, who in a short time was able to swallow a little.
After some persuasion from me, and the promise of a reward, four of the Indians undertook to carry their captive to the camp of Winnemak, to which we were bound; it was very evident that otherwise he must have been left to die miserably, as he was quite unable to walk. Three of the wounded men had also to be carried, so that we formed a mournful-looking party, as, shortly after our meal was finished, we commenced our march.
Chapter Seven.
On the march—Winnemak unable to give me news of my friends—My arguments in favour of Piomingo—Encamped for the night—We reach Winnemak’s camp—Braves and squaws—Where are my friends?—Winnemak and his idols—A party of braves arrive, with prisoners—Maysotta and her dog—A strange meeting—The lieutenant’s story—We start in quest of Clarice and Rachel—A fruitless search—I lose my friend in the forest—Trying to regain the right path, I meet with Clarice and Maysotta—My sister’s story—I tell her of the burning of the farm—We set out for the camp, and meet with the lieutenant—Night coming on, we encamp in the forest—Resuming our journey in the morning, we reach the camp in safety.
As we proceeded on our journey, I walked alongside the chief, endeavouring to gain from him all the information I could. I was surprised that he had not fallen in with Uncle Jeff, and that he had seen nothing of Lieutenant Broadstreet and Clarice. I supposed that he or his people would certainly have met them on their way to his camp—Winnemak could only account for it by supposing that they had made a détour to avoid some party of the enemy.
“But might they not, then, have been surprised and overcome?” I asked, with much agitation.
“Not if they faced them with a bold front, or kept a proper watch at night,” he answered. “Those Arrapahas are cowardly; they will only attack their enemies when they feel secure in their numbers, or can take them by surprise.”