Chapter 6: The Flight

Whenever you are going to do a momentous thing it is wise not to say much about it. Keep your talk until it is done. I know that much better now than I did when I was younger. There was some talk the next day in the fort and among the wagons about our projected departure. I do not know who told it first, but it soon reached the ears of Col. Griscom, and by and by Henry came to me and told me that the Colonel was mightily disposed to hold us prisoners in the fort in order to save us from what he called our foolhardiness. He had no legal right to take such action, but the Government would not censure him in view of the dangers we were about to face. I sought Pike, to whom we all looked as the leader of our party, in view of his great experience, and he told me the report was true.

“Now, what we’ve got to do,” said Pike, “is to make a dash for it to- night. The boys must keep as quiet as they can durin’ the day. Say nothin’, but manage to get your horses and guns and other things together, and then when it’s good and dark we’ll slip away and be off on the prairie. If we can give the soldiers the slip at the start they won’t foller us. Their duty won’t allow it.”

All the men soon had Pike’s instructions and we followed them closely. Col. Griscom came among the wagons several times and looked about suspiciously, but I soon learned that he did not know which of us intended to make the dash, and in that ignorance our safety lay. I felt somewhat ashamed of our deception, for I knew the officer intended nothing but our own good, but I was quite determined to go, and Starboard Sam and Henry were even more eager. It was an easy matter to make our arrangements. There was nothing to do but slip the bridles on our horses, see that our weapons were in good condition and tie to our saddles the ammunition and few necessities that we carried.

Dusk came on. It was pretty well known in the camp who were prepared to start that night, but we had come so far together that we felt bound to each other as if by an oath of loyalty, and none would betray us. Shortly after the night fell it began to rain. It was not a hard shower, but a fine drizzle, steady and persistent, as if it intended to last all night. Pike said it was good for our purpose, but after the heat of the day the rain fell cold upon me, and soon I was chilled to the very marrow, and my spirits went down. But I endeavored to hide my discouragement. Indeed, I was much ashamed of it, for I did not like to grow so faint-hearted when the first cold wind blew upon us. As if it were an echo of my own thoughts a soft voice whispered over my shoulder: