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Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California

<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> <h3>THE ATTACK ON THE CARAVAN.</h3> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i004-a.png" width-obs="102" height-obs="100" alt="A" title="" /></div> <div class='unindent'> LTHOUGH great uneasiness had been caused by the reports as to the Indians, the members of the caravan were in good spirits. So far the journey had been a success. The difficulties met with in crossing streams and bad bits of ground had been considerable, but were no greater than they had looked for. The animals had preserved their health and condition. The supply of fresh meat had been regular, and all were in excellent health. The rise of ground had been so gradual that it had scarcely been felt; but they were now at a considerable height above the sea, and the brisk clear air braced their nerves, and enabled even the feeblest to stand the fatigue without inconvenience.</div> One day when Frank was out alone with Dick on the north of the line of march, they came within sight of some buffalo grazing, and Frank was about to set spurs to his horse when his companion suddenly checked him. "What is it?" Frank said in surprise. "They don't see us, and if we follow that hollow we shall be able to get close to them before they can catch sight of us." "That's so," Dick said, "but just at present it air a[207] question of something more serious than bufflars, it air a question of Injins." "Indians!" Frank exclaimed, gazing round in every direction. "Where, Dick? I see no signs of them." "No, and if you were to look round all day you wouldn't see 'em; they are at your feet." Frank looked down in surprise. "I can see nothing," he said, after a minute examination of the ground. "It's thar, though," Dick said, throwing himself off his horse. "Look at this soft piece of ground; that is a hoof-print, and there is another and another." Frank also dismounted and examined the ground. "Yes," he said, "I can see a number of hoof-prints now you point them out. But how do you know that they are Indian prints?" "Because they are unshod; besides, you see, instead of coming along in a crowd, as a drove of turned loose horses would do, the marks are all together, one after the other, as they came along in single file. There is no doubt they are a party of Indians." "They are ahead of us," Frank said. "They were," Dick said, "but thar ain't no saying where they are now; may be watching us." The thought was not a comfortable one, and Frank grasped his rifle tightly as he looked round. "Just stay where you are," Dick said; "we are in a hollow, and I will have a look round." Dick made his way upon his hands and knees to the top of the brow, choosing a spot where the shrubs grew thickest, and making his way with such caution that Frank could scarcely keep him in sight. When he reached[208] the brow he raised his head and looked round in all directions and then went on. It was nearly half an hour before he rejoined his companion. "They have gone straight ahead," he said. "I went over the brow, and down the next hollow, and found their trail strong there, for the ground is swampy; they had certainly passed within an hour of the time I got there." "How did you know that?" Frank asked. "Because the water was still muddy where they had passed; it would have settled again in an hour after being disturbed, so they could not have been more than that time ahead. They were keeping just parallel with the line of march of the caravan." "How many of them do you think there were?" "Between fifty and sixty," Dick said confidently. "Perhaps they were merely journeying quietly along," Frank suggested. "Not likely," Dick replied; "they must have seen these bufflars, and would have been after them, almost to a sartinty, had they not had other business on hand. No, I expect they were watching the caravan, and had made up their minds to wait till nightfall, or perhaps till it came to some place where they can get up close without being seen, and fall upon it by surprise. We will ride back at once with the news, and put them on their guard." An hour's riding brought them to the caravan, where their news created a great sensation. Hitherto the danger from Indians had appeared a remote trouble, which might not, after all, befall them. The news that fifty or sixty of these dreaded foes were marching along, almost within sight, and might at any moment[209] attack them, brought the danger close indeed. The waggons were driven in even closer order; the women and children were told to keep between the lines; the men distributed themselves among the teams, ready to unyoke the oxen at the shortest notice, and to form the waggons in order of defence. Abe and his companions had not yet returned; but a quarter of an hour later they were seen galloping towards the camp. "You must keep close together and look spry," Abe shouted as he approached; "we have come upon signs of a large body of Indians, a hundred and fifty or two hundred strong, I reckon, out there on the plains. They have passed along this morning, and ain't up to no good, I expect." "We have found signs of a smaller party, Abe, some fifty or sixty, on our left; these were marching straight along, pretty well in the line we are going." "Then," Abe said, "ye had best look to yer guns, for they mean mischief; they must have been watching us this morning when we started, but concluded that the ground was too level, and that we should have time to get into position before they could get up to us, besides we had all the advantage in the stockades at the station. There ain't no station this evening." "Do you think they will attack us on the road?" Frank asked. "That will depend on whether they think they can take us unawares. Get on yer horses again. Dick, do you ride half a mile ahead of the caravan, don't keep in the hollows, but follow the line of the brow on the right. Young Frank and I will scout half a mile out on the right of the caravan; Rube and Jim, you go the same distance[210] on the left; that way we can see them coming, and the teamsters will have plenty of time to form up the waggons. But I don't reckon as they will attack; when they sees as we are on the lookout they will guess we have come across their tracks, and will see that their chances of a surprise are gone for the day." "Do you think they will attack us to-night?" Frank asked his companions. "They may, and they may not. As a general thing these Plain Injins are not fond of night attacks; it's part superstition, no doubt, and part because they are much more at home on horseback than on foot. Still there's never no saying with an Injin; but I should say, lad, that they ain't likely to do that yet. They will try other ways fust. They knows as how they have got plenty of time, and can choose their opportunity, if it's a month hence. They are wonderful patient, are the redskins, and time air of no account to them; but at present I think the most dangerous times will be after we have camped and before night comes on, and at daybreak before we makes our start." Two more days passed quietly, and a feeling of hope pervaded the caravan that the Indians had ridden on and sought for other prey. But Abe assured them that they must not relax their precautions, and that the failure of the Indians to attack was no proof whatever that they had abandoned their intention to do so. "An Injin is always most dangerous just when you ain't thinking of him. You may be sure we have been watched, although we haven't seen no one, and that seeing as we are on guard they are waiting for us to become careless again; or it may be they have fixed upon their[211] place of attack, and if so, you may bet yer life it is a good one. Above all things you men impress upon the women and children that in case of a sudden attack they shall each take refuge at once in the waggons, in the places allotted to them, and that they shall do it with out any squealing or yelling; there's nothing bothers men and flurries them, just as they have got need to be cool and steady, as the yelping of a pack of women. Just impress on them as it does no good, and adds to the chances of their getting their throats cut and their har raised." The hunter's orders were very strongly impressed upon the women and children, and even the latter were made to feel thoroughly the importance of silence in case of an attack. Upon the following day they came upon a spot where the trail crossed a deep hollow; the sides were extremely steep, the bottom flat and swampy. Rough attempts had been made by preceding travellers to reduce the steepness of the bank, but it was in no way improved thereby; the upper edge was indeed more gradual, but the soil cut away there, and shovelled down, had been softened by subsequent rains, while the torn surface of the bottom, and the deep tracks left by the wheels, showed how the teams had struggled through it. They explored for some little distance up and down to see if an easier point for crossing could be discovered, but came to the conclusion that the spot at which the tracks crossed it was the easiest, as in most places the bank had been eaten away by winter rains and was almost perpendicular. They had reached this spot late in the evening, and prepared to cross soon after daybreak[212] "You will have to fix up three teams to each waggon," Abe had said, "and take one over at a time. We will be out early scouting—for, mind you, this is a likely place to be attacked by the redskins; they will know there is a bad spot here, and will guess as you will be in confusion and divided, some on one side of the gulch, some on the other. Give particular charge to the men to have their rifles handy, and to prepare to defend the waggons to the last, and pass round word among the women and children not to be scared in case of an attack, as we shall drive the Injins off handsomely if they come." At daybreak, Abe, Dick, and Frank crossed the gulch, the other two hunters remaining behind. "We must not go far from the crossing," Abe said. "We don't know which way the tarnal critters may come, and in case of attack, all our guns will be wanted. They will guess as we shall begin to cross the first thing in the morning, and that it will take three or four hours to get over. So, if they are coming, it will be in a couple of hours, so as to catch us divided." They took their station on a rise a few hundred yards from the crossing, one of them riding back from time to time to see how the operation of crossing was going on. It was one of immense difficulty. The oxen were mired almost up to their chests, and the waggons sunk axle-deep. The waggons stuck fast in spite of the efforts of all the men in the party. Frank looked on for some time, and then a thought struck him. "Look here, you will never get the waggons on in that way, the oxen cannot pull an ounce. The best way will be to unyoke them, take them across, and get them up on the level ground on the top; then fasten your ropes together[213] and hitch them to the waggon. The bullocks, on firm ground, can easily pull it across." The suggestion was at once acted upon. The bottom was some fifty yards wide, and there were plenty of ropes in the waggons which had been brought for lowering them down difficult places, and for replacing any of the long rope traces which might be broken and worn out. Two of these were attached to the waggon, and the oxen were taken over and up the further side. A team was attached to each rope, and as the whip cracked the ponderous waggon was at once set in motion, and was soon dragged through the mud and up the incline. "That's a capital plan of yourn, young fellow," John Little said. "I don't know how we ever should have got across the other way, and I had just made up my mind to give it up and move down this hollow till we came to firmer ground." Five more waggons were got across in the same manner. Suddenly Abe discharged his rifle. "What's the matter?" Frank exclaimed. "Injins," Abe said briefly. "Them's the heads of the tarnal cusses just coming over the line of that rise." The spot to where he pointed was about half a mile distant, and soon Frank perceived a number of dark objects rising above it. Almost at the same instant the sound of a gun was heard on the other side of the gulch. "They are going to attack both sides at once," Abe said, as they galloped back towards the crossing; "that shows they are strong. If they had any doubts about licking us they would have thrown thar whole strength on one party or the other." On reaching the waggons they found the men there[214] working with all their might to get the six waggons in position, side by side across the top of the ascent. The oxen had already been taken down into the hollow. "That's right," Abe shouted, as they leapt from their horses and aided in the movement. "It couldn't be better. Well and steady. You have three or four minutes yet." The waggons were drawn up in two lines with their wheels touching, the inner line being on the very edge of the descent. The women and children were placed in the inner waggons, while the eight men who had come across with them, and the three hunters, took their places in the outside waggons. Almost all the men had been across with the teams when the guns were fired, but the remainder had run back to aid in the defence of the waggons on the other side. These were already in a position of defence, having been so arranged before the crossing began. So well had Abe's orders been carried out, that no confusion whatever had occurred. At the sound of the guns the women had climbed, and helped the children, into the waggons allotted to them, and the men, on arriving, quietly took up their positions. The Indians were not visible until they reached a spot about three hundred yards from the waggons. As they dashed up the rise they checked their horses. Instead of seeing, as they had expected, everything in confusion and dismay, not a soul was visible, and the clumps of waggons stood, one on either side, ranged as for defence. However, after waiting for three days for their prey, they were not to be balked. Their wild war-cry rose in the air, and the two bodies of horsemen charged down on the travellers. In an instant a deadly fire broke out, the men kneeling in the bottom of the waggons and resting their[215] rifles on the rail, the tilt being raised a few inches to enable them to see under it. Every shot told among the mass of horsemen. The emigrants were all new to Indian warfare, but most of them were farmers accustomed from boyhood to the use of the rifle, and the coolness of the hunters, and their preparation for attack, steadied them, and gave them confidence. Several of the Indians fell at the first discharge, but the advance was not checked, and at full speed they came on. "Steady, lads; don't throw away a shot," Abe shouted, as the men loaded and discharged their rifles as quickly as possible; "see that every bullet tells." Already the Indians were checking the speed of their horses, for the position was a most difficult one to attack. It could not be surrounded, and, indeed, could only be attacked on the face of the outside waggons, from which a stream of fire was pouring. As the leaders came on Frank and the two hunters, who both, like himself, carried revolvers, laid aside their rifles and brought these deadly weapons into action, resting them on the rail to secure an accurate fire. The quick, sharp cracks of these, followed in almost every case by the fall of one of the horsemen in front, completed the dismay of the Indians. Quick as thought, those who had fallen were lifted across the horses of their comrades, and the whole band, turning, galloped away at full speed, pursued, as long as they were in sight, by the rifle-balls of the defenders of the waggons. "So much for them," Abe said, as he leapt to the ground. "Now let us give a hand to our comrades." The fight was still raging on the other side. The number of waggons was larger, and the facilities for defence less. The waggons were surrounded by a throng of[216] Indians, who were cutting at them with their tomahawks, discharging their rifles into the tilts, and some, having thrown themselves from their horses, were endeavouring to climb up. The defenders were still fighting desperately. They had no longer time to load, but with hatchets and clubbed rifles beat down the Indians who tried to climb the waggons. A few minutes, however, would have ended the resistance had not help been at hand. From the opposite side of the gulch eleven men poured the contents of their rifles among the Indians. One of the leading chiefs and four of his followers fell dead, and almost before the Indians had recovered from their surprise a dropping fire was opened, almost every shot taking effect. A cheer broke from the defenders of the waggons, and they fought with renewed hope, while the Indians, startled by this unlooked-for attack, and by the repulse of their comrades, began to lose heart. Only for a few minutes longer did they continue the attack. The deadly flank fire proved too much for their courage, and soon they too were in full flight, carrying off with them their killed and wounded. A shout of triumph rose from the two parties of whites, and a scene of wild delight took place; the women, now that the excitement was over, cried and laughed alternately in hysterical joy; the children shouted, while the men grasped each other's hands in fervent congratulation. "We all owe our lives to you and your comrades," John Little said to Abe. "If it had not been for you we should all have gone under; and, I tell you, if ever we get across these plains we will find some way to show our gratitude. As long as John Little has a crust in the world he will share it with you."[217] When the excitement had somewhat abated, the work of crossing was recommenced, and in two hours all were over and the journey was continued. "Do you think the Indians will attack us again?" John Little asked Abe, when the caravan was set in motion. "They will, if they see a chance," Abe replied. "They have lost a lot of men, and will get vengeance if they can. It depends partly whether thar big chief was killed or not; if he war they may give it up now; they sees as we are strong and well-armed. If not, thar chief will do all he can to wipe us out, for he will be held responsible for the affair, and such a defeat would lower his influence in the tribe." Five days later they saw some waggons in the distance. Since the attack the hunters had not left the caravan, as the emigrants all declared that they would far rather go without fresh meat than have the hunters absent from the camp. A few deer only, which had been seen from the line of march, had been stalked and shot. "There is a caravan halting ahead," Frank said. "We heard at the last station that one passed ten days back. I wonder what they are halting for. The next water, according to the distances the station-keeper gave us, must be ten miles away." "I don't like the look of it," Abe replied. "Travelling at about the same rate as we do, they should still be about ten days ahead. I am very much afraid that something has happened; those varmint we thrashed, or some other, may have attacked them." For another mile not a word was spoken; then they reached a spot from which the waggons and the ground around them was clearly visible.[218] "I see no sign of movement," Abe said to John Little, "and thar seems to be a lot of dark objects lying about. I will ride forward with my mates. If, as I calculate, there has been a massacre, you had better take the waggons a detour a mile round, so that the women and children may be spared the sight of it. It would be enough to make them skeery for the rest of the journey." Abe and his comrades galloped forward. "Have your rifles ready," the former said; "there may be some of the varmint hiding about still, though I don't think it likely. I expect the attack took place some days back." On nearing the waggons their apprehensions were verified. Around lay the carcasses of the oxen with bales and boxes broken open and rifled of their contents. In and near the waggons were the bodies of their defenders, mingled with those of the women and children. All had been scalped, and the bodies were mutilated with gashes of the tomahawks. No attempt had been made to put the waggons into any position of defence; they still stood in a long line, as they had been travelling when the Indians fell upon them. There were twelve waggons, and they counted eighty bodies lying around them. "It has been a regular surprise," Abe said, "and I expect there war very little fighting. The Injins burst out on them, there war a wild panic, a few shots war fired, and it war all over; that's how I read it. Hillo! what's that?" A deep growl was heard, and turning they saw under a bush a mastiff, standing over the body of a child. The animal could with difficulty keep its legs; it had been pierced by a lance, and had received a blow with a tomahawk[219] on the head which had nearly cut off one of its ears. It had doubtless been left for dead, but had recovered itself, and crawled to the side of one of the children of the family to which it belonged. Its head was covered with matted blood, and its tongue hung out, black and parched with thirst; but it growled savagely, its hair bristled on its back, and it prepared to defend to the last the body of its young master. "Poor fellow!" Frank said, dismounting. "Poor old boy, we are friends." At the kind tones of the voice the dog relaxed the fierceness of its aspect, it gave a faint whine, and lay down by the child's body. Frank took off his thick felt hat, filled it with water from the skin hanging from his saddle, and carried it to the dog. The animal raised itself again with an effort, and drank eagerly; when it had finished, it thrust its great nose into Frank's hand and wagged its tail, then it returned to the body and gave a piteous howl. The tears stood in Frank's eyes. "Lend a hand with your knives," he said to his comrades, who were looking on; "let us dig a grave for the child, then the dog will perhaps follow us; it is a grand dog, and I should like to have it." The others dismounted, and with their knives and hands they soon scraped a hole in the earth capable of containing the body. The mastiff stood by watching their operations. Frank doubted whether it would allow him to touch the body of the child; but the animal seemed to comprehend his intentions, and suffered him to raise the child and lay it in the ground. No sooner was the grave filled up than the mastiff laid himself down beside it. Frank now offered the animal some meat from[220] his wallet, and after this was eaten, bathed its head with water and brought the edges of the wound together, and bandaged it with a strip torn from his hunting-shirt. "Come along, old fellow; come along with us, you can do no good here." He mounted his horse, and the mastiff rose to its feet and stood irresolute, and gave another piteous howl. "Will you ride back to the caravan, Abe, and tell them there is no danger? I will move slowly with the dog, and join them when they get abreast of us." The four men started at a gallop. Frank dismounted again and patted the mastiff; then tying his handkerchief to its collar, he walked slowly away, leading his horse. The mastiff followed at once, walking with difficulty, for its hind-legs were almost paralysed from the spear-wound, which had passed through its body just under the spine, behind the ribs. It seemed, however, to feel that Frank was its master now, and laid its great head in his hand as he walked beside it. As Frank saw the line on which the caravan was now moving, he walked slowly across to it and halted until the waggons came up. The mastiff was lifted into one of them, and laid on some empty flour-sacks. Some more water was given it, and the caravan proceeded on its way. The terrible fate which had befallen their predecessors cast a deep gloom over the party, who shuddered to think how narrowly they had escaped such a fate; there was no need now to impress upon any the necessity of avoiding straggling, and redoubled vigilance was observed during the march. Frank attended assiduously to the mastiff, to whom he gave the name of Turk. The spear-wound was kept[221] poulticed, and that in the head was plastered. Had the dog received such wounds at any other time they would have probably proved fatal; but on the plains wounds heal rapidly, and the brisk air and the life of activity and exercise render man and beast alike able to sustain serious injuries without succumbing. In a week Turk was able to walk with the caravan; a fortnight later it could gallop by Frank's side. They were now entering the Alkali Plains, a wide and desolate region, where water is extremely scarce, and, when found, brackish and bitter to the taste, and where the very shrubs are impregnated with salt, and uneatable by most animals. In anticipation of the hardships to be endured in crossing this region, the bullocks had been allowed for some time a daily ration of grain in addition to the grass they could pick up during the halt, and were therefore in good condition. A halt was made for three days before entering this district, and the teams were fresh and full of work when they started. The marches across the salt plain were long and painful to man and beast; the dust, which rose in clouds, was so impregnated with salt that it caused an intense irritation to the lips and nostrils. Everything was done as far as possible to alleviate the sufferings of the animals. Casks were filled with water at each halting-place, and each time the oxen halted for rest their mouths and nostrils were sponged, and a small allowance given them to drink. As they progressed they had reason to congratulate themselves on the precautions they had taken, for scarce a mile was passed without their coming across signs of the misfortunes which had befallen those who had gone before, in the shape of abandoned[222] waggons, stores cast out to lighten the loads, and skeletons of oxen and horses. But, on the other hand, there was now comparatively slight danger of an Indian attack, for even the horses of the redskins, hardy as they are, could not support the hardships of a prolonged stay on the Alkali Plains. <hr style="width: 65%;" />[223] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i004-decoration.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="96" alt="" title="" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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