Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 64, No. 393, July 1848Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 64, No. 393, July 1848
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
fall, and, laying the wounded trapper gently on the ground,--they
proceeded to strip him of his buckskin hunting-frock, to examine
the wound. A glance was sufficient to convince his companions that
the blow was mortal. The ball had passed through the lungs; and in
a few moments the throat of the wounded man began to swell, as the
choking blood ascended, and turned a livid blue colour. But a few
drops of purple blood trickled from the wound,--a fatal sign,--and
the eyes of the mountaineer were already glazing with death's icy
touch. His hand still grasped the barrel of his rifle, which had
done good service in the fray. Anon he essayed to speak, but, choked
with blood, only a few inarticulate words reached the ears of his
companions, who were bending over him.
"Rubbed--out--at--last," they heard him say, the words gurgling in
his blood-filled throat; and opening his eyes once more, and looking
upwards to take a last look at the bright sun, the trapper turned
gently on his side and breathed his last sigh.
With no other tools than their scalp-knives, the hunters dug a
grave on the banks of the creek; and whilst some were engaged in
this work, others sought the bodies of the Indians they had slain
in the attack, and presently returned with three reeking scalps,
the trophies of the fight. The body of the mountaineer was then
wrapped in a buffalo robe, the scalps being placed on the dead man's
breast, laid in the shallow grave, and quickly covered--without a
word of prayer, or sigh of grief; for, however much his companions
may have felt, not a word escaped them; although the bitten lip and
frowning brow told tale of anger more than sorrow, and vowed--what
they thought would better please the spirit of the dead man than
sorrow--lasting revenge.
Trampling down the earth which filled the grave, they placed upon
it a pile of heavy stones; and packing their mules once more, and
taking a last look of their comrade's lonely resting-place, they
turned their backs upon the stream, which has ever since been known
as "Gonneville's Creek."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account