Crow Indians -- Fiction; Indian captivities -- Fiction; Western stories; Yellowstone River Valley -- Fiction
As he told it: "We found the quartz-float, and the miner followed it
with a gold-pan. We were surprised to find we obtained colors almost
from the first. We built the cabin, and put in our spare time in
turning the water from the creek to one side of the gulch, so that we
could get the sluice-boxes in place, and a proper flow for them, and, at
the same time, work the gravel in the bottom of the creek without being
inconvenienced by too great a flow of water. All this time we followed
the trail to and from the cabin along the rock ledge, where no one but a
goat would be apt to find it; and in every way we were careful not to
attract wandering Indian hunters to ourselves.
"The miner worked slowly up the creek to where the gold became richer,
until it finally petered out. He was then at a loss to account for the
disappearance of the metal. This set him to thinking that he must have
been working below a ledge where the gold originated. He then began to
prospect for the lode itself, which, after due disappointment and
effort, we found. It is the ledge which I have shown you, Ermine. The
thing was buried in _débris_, and a discoloration of iron stains had
confused the miner. He told me that the quartz would go a hundred
dollars to the ton, and would make us all rich some day. Of course we
did nothing with that, being content, for the present, with the gravel.
"We were high up on the range, away from any divides, and felt safe from
wandering Indians. They could discover us only by chance, but by chance
they did. One morning, when we had nearly completed the cabin, and were
putting on the finishing touches, I was cooking at the fire when I
heard a number of gunshots on the outside. I sprang to the half-opened
door, and saw my two friends on the ground; one was dead, and the other
was rolling about in agony on the pine-needles. A half-dozen Indians
rushed out of the timber and soon finished their bloody work. I was so
overcome, so unnerved, by the sudden and awful sight, that I could not
move my hands or feet. Strangely enough, the Indians did not immediately
advance on the cabin, fearing hostile shots. Since then I have found out
that they knew by our tracks there were three of us. Taking positions
behind trees, they waited. In the still air I could hear them talk to
each other. I considered my situation hopeless, but very gradually
regained my nerve. Knowing I could not defend the cabin, my mind acted
quickly, as often a man's will when he is in such desperate straits.
Often I had heard the trapper, who had lived among Indians a great deal
during his career, tell of their superstition, their reverence for the
unusual, and their tolerance toward such things. At this time I cannot
analyze the thought that came to me, but being only half dressed, I tore
off my clothes, and getting on all fours, which the unusual length of my
arms made possible, I ran out of the cabin, making wild noises and
grotesque gestures.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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