With Axe and Rifle

by William Henry Giles Kingston

On we dashed at headlong speed. We had far to go, and in some places the ground was uneven; but if we were to save our friends from being cut to pieces, we must not pull rein until we were up to them. On and on we pressed. The train, formed in square, came in sight to the naked eye, as did the body of Indians who appeared close to it. Except the tramp of our horses over the yielding ground, not a sound was heard, until suddenly some puffs of smoke were seen and the rattle of musketry reached our ears. The Indians halted for an instant, but they were too far off to enable us to see whether or not they shot their arrows at the camp. Again and again the sound of fire-arms was heard, followed by war-whoops which, even at that distance, had a fearful sound. A belt of trees by the side of a dry water-course concealed the Indians from view, and, their eyes being fixed on their expected prey, they had hitherto probably not seen us. Louder and louder grew the noise of fighting, showing us that our friends were still holding out. I knew full well indeed that my father and uncle would fight to the last. Whether they had discovered that succour was at hand, we could not tell. It would not have prevented them from fighting hard, but it would have encouraged the men to hold out till we had reached them.

The sergeant, when he heard the sounds of battle was as eager to press forward as we were. The combatants at length saw us coming. Our own people raised a lusty cheer, while the Indians reined in their steeds, probably supposing, as we galloped on surrounded by clouds of dust, that a large body of cavalry were upon them. Some of the chiefs turned their horses’ heads to meet us, but we, charging furiously at them, pistolled some and cut down others, while the rest wheeling round galloped off, hoping to get beyond the reach of our shot. Before, however, they could do so, we pulled up and fired a volley at them, which emptied several saddles. While we were reloading they got out of our reach. The troopers then sweeping over the ground sabred all who had fallen and still showed signs of life. Not a prisoner was taken.

“You came in the nick of time,” said my father; “for we were fearfully overmatched, and many had been wounded,—your uncle, I fear, very badly.”

I saw to my dismay, as he spoke, that an arrow was sticking in his own side, while Uncle Denis lay under a waggon where he had crawled, his head bleeding, and with two severe wounds in the leg and shoulder. Martin Prentis and three of the other men were also badly hurt. They were all crying out for water, as not a drop remained, and the cattle, they said, could scarcely proceed. My mother, as may be supposed, was fearfully agitated and alarmed, as were the two little girls; but they were cheered by hearing from the guide that a stream existed about two miles on, nearer the fort.

The wearied oxen were therefore at once again yoked up, and we knew that they would eagerly press on the moment they scented the water.

The Dominie and I, aided by my mother, lost no time in attending to the wounded. My father insisted on waiting until Uncle Denis had been looked to, while Dio and Dan gave their aid to the other wounded men.

We first sawed off the head of the arrow sticking in my uncle’s shoulder. This done, the shaft was extracted; and his other wounds being bound up, we placed him in one of the waggons.

We had next to perform the same operation on my father, who bore the pain without flinching. He then consented to lie down in the waggon, when, the train being ready, we moved forward, led by the guide.

Soon after we had started, I saw Dio galloping off with a couple of skin bottles over his saddle. My fear was that the Indians would discover him, and cut him off, but he was quickly out of sight. In a wonderfully short time he came galloping back again with both the bottles full.

His arrival was hailed with gratitude by the wounded men. The fresh water he had brought greatly revived them. Even those who had not been hurt were complaining bitterly of thirst. We could scarcely restrain the eagerness of the cattle as they reached the water. The sergeant, however, would not allow us to remain longer than was absolutely necessary to enable the cattle to quench their thirst, stating that his orders were to return as soon as possible to the fort. This indeed, for the sake of my father and uncle and the other wounded men, we were anxious to do.