Adventures Among the Red Indians: Romantic Incidents and Perils Amongst the Indians of North and South America — John Shaqi
Adventures Among the Red Indians: Romantic Incidents and Perils Amongst the Indians of North and South AmericaWright, Sidney Harry
History
Adventures Among the Red Indians: Romantic Incidents and Perils Amongst the Indians of North and South America
Wright, Sidney Harry
Indians of North America; Indians of South America
Young Munson, who was now fighting on the right wing of the little
force, turned swiftly, and, firing off the charge which he had just
rammed down, shot the foremost of the bowmen. But, even as he started
to reload, he remembered his officer's command to return at once with
news; in the hurry and excitement of the last few minutes he had
forgotten all about it. He looked round for the quickest exit from the
wood, and, in so doing, caught sight of Boyd who, faint with the loss
of blood, had been feebly endeavouring to bandage his wound with a
handkerchief. The sergeant threw one more glance back at the soldiers;
many of them had already fallen before the Indian arrows, and the
rest, paying no attention to their new assailants, were pursuing
those who had guns. Then he turned again to the officer. To leave him
here was to abandon him to death, perhaps by torture.
"Can you get on my back, sir? he said hurriedly. Quick; the
redskins'll be on us in another minute. Here, give me a hold of your
pistol; I must leave my rifle unless you can carry it for me."
But the officer had scarcely strength enough to enable him to stand.
With difficulty Munson hauled him upright against the tree-trunk,
snatched up the pistol in case he should need it on the perilous
little journey which he was undertaking, and, hoisting Boyd on his
back, darted among the trees out of sight of the approaching Indians.
On every side of him shooting seemed to be going on; an arrow fell at
his very feet, and the next moment a stray musket-ball flattened
itself against the tree which he was passing. What he could not
understand was that, the nearer he came with his burden to the camp,
the louder and more frequent did the firing sound. Had his mates
already driven the enemy into the open?
A few steps more and he would be out of the wood. But what was all
this prancing and stamping? The horses could hardly have broken loose,
for, since his recent losses, Lowry had had them tethered in batches
whenever a halt of any length was made. The firing grew louder and
faster than ever, and all doubt in his mind was ended when he heard
the lieutenant's voice ordering the men to charge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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