Chapter 11: The Attack

Pike did not say very much, but left the bulk of the talking to the remainder of us. I noticed soon that he appeared to be very restless and uneasy. He studied the plain in every direction, and seemed to be making calculations. There was nothing unusual in the appearance of the country. It was the same level, or almost level expanse, rolling away on every side to the horizon, that we had been travelling over for days.

A few minutes after we finished eating Pike rose to his feet and said:

“It’s jest as I expected. Get ready boys.”

“Get ready for vat? Is a nozzer herd of ze buffaloes coming?” exclaimed little Bonneau.

“Not buffaloes this time,” said Pike, without a change of countenance, “but men. We are about to be’ attacked. See there!”

He pointed away to the south, where we could see some dim, black specks on the horizon line. The specks appeared to be moving, for they grew larger.

“My eyes are used to the plains,” said Pike, “and they tell me them specks are men, men on horseback. What kind of men would you expect to meet out here? Injuns, of course. The chances are a hundred to one them’s Injuns, and the odds are just ez big that they want our scalps. We’ve got to fight for it.”

“But when you saw them you said, ‘Just as I expected.’ Why did you say that?” I asked.

“Hev you forgotten last night, an’ the horseman who killed Wilkinson?” asked Pike. “Thar ain’t any ghosts, Joe, and that horseman has come back with others to finish us. We must get ready for them the best we kin. These dead buffaloes will help us a lot”

Working with the utmost vigor under Pike’s direction, we drew the bodies of the buffaloes up in a small circle. With one piled upon another they formed a breastwork several feet high, through which no ordinary bullet could pass. Then we sat down inside this queer fortification.

“See to your guns,” said Pike, “and keep your ammunition handy. It’s lucky we’ve got plenty of that. At any rate, thar’s some satisfaction in fighting an open enemy out in the daylight.”

“Perhaps they are not hostiles after all!” hazarded Henry.

“Don’t you believe it,” said Pike.

“Them fellers are after scalps, and the scalps they’re after our ourn.”

Then we sat quite still and waited for the strangers to approach. It was soon evident that Pike was right. They were Indians. The party numbered about fifty, and they stopped just out of range, brandishing lances and uttering yells which made me shiver,

“It’s a war party, and they’re well-armed, too,” said Pike. “Lay close, boys. We’ll wait for them to begin the dance.”

“To what tribe do you think they belong?” I asked Pike.

“Can’t tell,” he said. “Pawnees, Arapahoes, Sioux, Cheyennes all gallop over these plains.”

The Indians seemed to be in no hurry. Apparently they knew all about us. They were careful not to come within range. Some of them dismounted and lolled about on the grass. Others galloped up and down, still yelling and brandishing their lances. I knew nothing about Indian tactics, but Pike explained that the warriors never exposed themselves uselessly. They could take us with a rush, but they would wait and maneuver. Soon we saw proof of this.

In about an hour the warriors who had dismounted climbed back on their ponies. Then the whole troop began to gallop away from us.

“They are going to leave us,” exclaimed Henry, joyfully.

“I allers said the Injuns wuz a lot o’ cowardly pirates, and would run from a tight little crew like ours,” said Starboard Sam.

“Don’t be so fast. They ain’t gone yet, by a jugful,” said he sarcastically. “Them Injuns think they’ve got an easy thing and they’re goin’ to play with it.”

The Indians must have been a mile away when they stopped. Then they began to trot around us in a circle, which slowly narrowed. Meantime they kept up a most infernal yelling, and I am sure every one of our party wished he was safe back at Fort Leavenworth. They spent an hour or more at this sort of thing, and then when they were almost within range stopped again. There seemed to be some bustle and preparation among them, and Pike said:

“I think they’re goin’ to treat us to some fireworks now.”

A single warrior rode out from the group. He had no lance, but he held a rifle in front of him.

“Don’t any of you boys do anything until I order you to do it,” said Pike, with a warning look.

The warrior uttered a loud shout, struck his horse and galloped directly towards us. Before he had come a rod he changed the course of his horse, and suddenly shot out of sight behind that animal. I thought he had fallen off, but Pike said he was clinging to the horse, having put the latter’s body between him and us, and would fire at us over or under the animal’s neck as soon as he had a good opportunity. All the time the Indian pulled his horse about in the most erratic, zigzag fashion. Pike explained that the fellow was showing off before his comrades and made his horse curvet to disturb our aim.

Emboldened by our silence the Indian circled nearer. He must have caught a glimpse of one of our heads, for there was a flash of flame under his horse’s neck, and I heard the whizzing of a bullet, which lodged in one of the buffaloes. At the same moment Pike fired and the Indian’s pony fell. The Indian bounded to his feet as if he was made of rubber.

“Shoot him, Magrane! Shoot him!” exclaimed Pike. “It’s our lives against theirn, the bloodthirsty varmints. It’s no time for mercy.”

Magrane, who was a good marksman, fired, and the Indian dropped dead, on the grass. It was first blood for our side. The other Indians set up a yell when they saw the death of their comrade, and galloped about, but did not come nearer. They had tasted of our mettle and did not like it.

The Indians deliberated for half an hour. Then they spread out in a great circle around us. At a signal from one of their number, evidently a chief, they began to gallop down on us from all sides, swing behind their horses and yelling. There was some trepidation in our party at this combined attack, but Pike steadied us and arranged us so we could meet them at all points.

“Lay low,” he said, “and whenever you see a head fire at it.”

The fellows came at us with a tremendous discord of yells, firing from behind their horses. Fortunately, we obeyed Pike’s injunction to lie low, and none of us was hit as yet. Then our own rifles began to pop. I was watching one fellow on a blaze-faced horse, who seemed to me to yell louder than any of the others. I could have shot his horse, but that would have left me without any load in my gun, and then he could have run away unless some of the others by chance picked him off. I held my gun ready, and presently, when I saw his hideously painted face show over his horse’s back, I fired point-blank at him. The horse reared and galloped off over the plain, but he was riderless. The Indian lay stark and lifeless on the grass.

I know it is an awful thing to kill a man, but I felt no compunction when that Indian fell before my rifle. As Pike had truly said, it was our lives or theirs, and they had made it so, for they were the attacking party.

I reloaded my rifle hastily, but did not get another shot, for the Indians galloped away and left us victors for the time being. As they scurried off over the plain a voice sang:

Come, fill your glasses full and we’ll drink to Capt. Hull! And so merrily we’ll push about the brandy, oh! John Bull may boast his fill! Let the world say what it will! But the Yankee boy for fighting is the dandy, oh!

It was Starboard Sam chanting his pæan of triumph, and little Bonneau, whose blood was afire, shouted:

“Vive le Capitaine Pike! We have thrashed ze red devils! Ah, zis is ze fighting I love!”

Bonneau was a bloodthirsty little wretch when he got the light of battle in his eyes. But I would have been glad to be out of it all. I am not ashamed to say that. Peeping over our strange fortifications I could see the Indian whom I had killed lying upon his back. I could see the blood-stains upon his breast where my fatal bullet had entered, and though he had come as a ravenous enemy I felt no sensation of triumph. It was the first time that I had shed human blood, and now that the battle was over for the while I had some uncomfortable reflections. I was aroused from my thoughts by Pike asking me how much water I had in my canteen. We had provided ourselves with these useful articles before beginning the long journey over the plains. I found that mine was nearly full. So were the others, and the investigation gave Pike great satisfaction. Evidently he expected a siege of some duration.

“We have ze water,” said Bonneau, “and when we get hungry we will eat a piece of our fort.”

The day wore on. The Indians were visible in the distance, but they made no further demonstration. Soon we experienced the attacks of a new enemy, the heat. The sun hung in the sky a huge, round, burning mass, and seemed to concentrate all his rays on our unprotected heads. There was no escape from them. We were compelled to lie there and suffer, though sips of the precious water in our canteens saved our throats and lips from parching. Pike said there would be no more attacks as long as daylight lasted. So we watched and waited.

Henry used to tell me an old story about a sword hanging by a single hair. Whenever that hair was cut some one would receive the blow of the sword. I thought more than once of that old tale as I lay there that evening and waited. Beyond us on the prairie I could see the Indians watching like so many wolves. When would the sword fall? In the heat of action, when the blood is high, one forgets himself; but to lie there under the blazing sun, just waiting, waiting for death, was almost beyond endurance.

It was with a curious mingling of emotions that we saw the sun sink lower and lower, and the shadows lengthen on the grass. It brought relief from one form of torture, but it also brought us nearer to what we believed would be the crisis.

The sun sank from sight, the gray twilight came, and in the shadows the Indians became invisible. We knew they were still there, for wolves, when they believe they can run their victim to earth, never leave the scent.

The night came on, and we sat straining our eyes and ears. Two or three of us might have slept while the others watched, but nobody was willing to close his eyes. So all watched together. Pike went outside our rampart and beckoned to me to follow. When I climbed over he whispered to me that he could hear better there, and it was just as safe for the while at least

“The redskins are almost sure to attack us to-night,” he said. “They have the darkness, an’ we can’t pick em off while they are creeping up.”

It is curious upon what trifles matters of the utmost importance sometimes turns. I soon realized that our lives would depend upon the degree of darkness the night might bring forth. If we could see only a few feet the Indians would upon us before we were able to fire a shot. If the night should be clear we could open upon them at a distance. Pike gazed up at the skies with the greatest anxiety. Some clouds were floating about, but there were stars twinkling, too. We did not have a broadside of luck, but it was partly in our favor. As Pike put it, it was just so so, neither very clear nor very dark.

Pike extended himself at full length and lay with his ear on the prairie. The Indians were sly, he said, and could creep along almost with the silence of a snake gliding over the grass, but if they attempted it he believed he could hear them before they came too near.

We had been lying on the ground full two hours when I heard a slight noise behind me, and started, believing at first that the Indians had succeeded in creeping upon us. But a well-known voice reassured me. It was only Henry, He said he had grown too anxious inside the fort and had come out to join us. I was for sending him back, but Pike said: “Let the kid stay; we may need him,” and so the boy remained with us.