“Well, Thompson is done for, that's dead sure, and we'll have to give
him a dacent burial. Whisht, there! did ye not hear somethin'?”
Footsteps were heard very distinctly upon the leaves, and the two shrank
back in the shadow of the wood and awaited their approach, for they were
evidently coming that way. Something in the manner of walking betrayed
their identity, and Mickey spoke. The prompt answer showed that they
were the two men whose duty it was to relieve Thompson and the Irishman.
They came forward at once, and when they learned the truth, were, as
a matter of course, terribly shocked. They reported that the sentinels
nearer the settlement had detected moving figures during the night
skulking about the wood and valley, and the sound of horses' hoofs left
no doubt that they were Indians who had gone.
The death of Thompson, of course, was a terrible shock to the new
arrivals, but it was one of the incidents of border life, and was
accepted as such. The two took their stations unflinchingly, and Mickey
and Fred returned to the settlement, the body of the dead sentry being
allowed to lie where it was, under guard, until morning.
On the morrow the body was given decent burial, and the building of the
houses was pressed with all possible activity, and scouts or sentinels
were stationed on all the prominent lookouts.
Barnwell was confident that if no interruption came about within the
next two or three days, he could put the defenses in such shape that
they could resist the attack of any body of Indians; but an assault on
that day or the next would be a most serious affair, the issue of which
was extremely doubtful; hence the necessity of pressing everything
forward with the utmost dispatch. Fred rendered what assistance he
could, but that did not amount to much, and, as he possessed the best
eyesight, he took upon himself the duty of sentinel, taking his position
near the river, where he remained for something over an hour.
Nothing of an alarming character was seen, and, thinking his standpoint
was too depressed to give him the range of observation, he concluded to
climb one of the trees. This was quickly done, and when he found himself
in one of the topmost branches he was gratified with the result.
On his right hand, he could trace the winding course of the Rio Pecos
for several miles, the banks here and there fringed with wood and
stunted undergrowth. His attitude was such that he could see over the
tops of the trees in his rear, and observe his friends busily at work as
so many beavers, while off on the left, stretched on the prairies, with
the faint bluish outlines of mountains in the distance. All at once the
eye of the boy was arrested by the figure of a horseman in the west. He
was coming with the speed of a whirlwind, and heading straight toward
the settlement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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