With Axe and Rifle

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Seven.

Across the plains—The march of civilisation—A halt—The trail discovered—On the war-path—An obstacle—Arrival at the river—Examining the camping-ground—An inaccessible point—Erecting fortifications—The way trees are felled in Kentucky—Strengthening our position—Mr Tidey puts us on the alert—Red-skin daring—Round the camp-fire—Evident anxiety of my father and the Dominie—Our strong point—Setting the watch—Driving in the cattle—The lull before the storm.

The next day’s journey was an anxious one. We had no doubt that the Indians were watching us, lurking behind trees or shrubs, although they did not show themselves. My father directed that all the horses should be mounted, the men only required to conduct the waggons remaining on foot. The formidable appearance we thus presented undoubtedly prevented our enemies from approaching, still we felt sure that should they find an opportunity of attacking us with advantage, they would be down upon us. In a few days we hoped to reach one of the numerous forts scattered over the continent for the protection of the white men, advancing in constant streams to take possession of the fertile lands to the westward, which had hitherto served only as the hunting-grounds of the red-men. It is not surprising that the so-called savages looked with no friendly eye on the intruders, or should have taken every opportunity of destroying them, in the vain hope of preventing other following in the same direction. The idea, however, that we were intruders did not occur to my father, or to the thousands of other emigrants who were leaving the Eastern States with the object of forming homes for themselves and families in the desert. They saw unlimited tracks of a fertile country stretched out before them without an inhabitant, and they looked upon the savage red man much in the same light as they looked upon the herds of buffalo which roam over the prairies. We had halted for our mid-day rest, without having seen any Indians, though we kept a vigilant look-out on every side. We began to hope therefore, that, content with the plunder they had obtained, they had returned with it to their villages, and that we should reach the fort without being molested. Still my father was too good a soldier not to keep as constant a watch as before. As we expected when we arrived at the fort to remain some days, there would be time for our cattle and horses to rest; we therefore agreed to push on across the prairie faster than we had hitherto done, though of course we should be guided as to our camping-places by the necessary requirements of water, grass, and wood for fuel. We might thus have to halt earlier in the day than we wished, or continue on later in the evening. The latter alternative it was important, if possible, to avoid, as should any Indians be in the neighbourhood they might attack us. The only means of averting the danger of being surprised while on the move, was to scout at a greater range than usual, so as to discover any lurking foes. While travelling I was seldom able to exchange a word with my mother and Kathleen, but as soon as we halted, I went to the waggon to inquire how little Lily was getting on. She at once recognised me.

“Have you found mother? is she coming back to Lily soon?” she asked. I pointed to my mother and then to Kathleen.

“She will be your mother, and Kathleen will be your sister,” I answered; “they will love you very much, as I told you.”

“Yes, they are very kind to Lily, they love Lily I know,” she said, giving Kathleen a kiss.

“You shall be my new sister; I am so glad to have one,” said Kathleen, returning her embrace.

Lily smiled, and I knew that though she might not forget her own mother, she would soon be happy with those who were so anxious to treat her kindly. Still I observed that she every now and then gave a startled look around, showing that she had not forgotten the scene she had witnessed on the previous day. I hoped for her sake as well as for that of all of us, that she would never again be exposed to so fearful a danger.

I should have said that Uncle Denis had given my mother the locket and rings belonging to the murdered lady.

“You will take better care of them than I can,” he said, a he drew them out of his pouch wrapped in a piece of buck skin, and handed them to her without looking at them. “When the little girl is old enough you can give them to her, and tell her how they were obtained: she will long before that have forgotten all about the circumstances.”