Lillian Morris, and Other StoriesSienkiewicz, Henryk
General
Lillian Morris, and Other Stories
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Short stories, Polish -- Translations into English
After three weeks’ journey we came at last to a more spacious canyon
formed by White River. At the entrance to it the Winta Indians
prepared an ambush which annoyed us somewhat; but when their reddish
arrows began to reach the roof of my wife’s wagon, I struck on them
with my men so violently that they scattered at once. We killed three
or four of them. The only prisoner whom we took, a youth of sixteen,
when he had recovered a little from terror, pointed in turn at us and
to the West, repeating the same gestures which the Yampa had made. It
seemed to us that he wanted to say that there were white men near by,
but it was difficult to give credit to that supposition. In time it
turned out to be correct, and it is easy to imagine the astonishment
and delight of my men on the following day, when, descending from an
elevated plateau, we saw on a broad valley which lay at our feet, not
only wagons, but houses built of freshly-cut logs. These houses formed
a circle, in the centre of which rose a large shed without windows;
through the middle of the plain a stream flowed; near it were herds of
mules, guarded by men on horseback.
The presence of men of my own race in that valley filled me with
astonishment, which soon passed into fear, when I remembered that they
might be “criminal outlaws” hiding in the desert from death. I knew
from experience that such outcasts push frequently to very remote and
entirely desert regions, where they form detachments, on a complete
military footing. Sometimes they are founders of new societies as it
were, which at first live by plundering people moving to more inhabited
places; but later, by a continual increase of population, they change
by degrees into ordered societies. I met more than once with “outlaws”
on the upper course of the Mississippi, when, as a squatter, I floated
down logs to New Orleans; more than once I had bloody adventures with
them, hence their cruelty and bravery were equally well known to me.
I should not have feared them had not Lillian been with us; but at
thought of the danger in which she would be if we were defeated and I
fell, the hair rose on my head, and for the first time in my life I was
as full of fear as the greatest coward. But I was convinced that if
those men were outlaws, we could not avoid battle in any way, and that
the conflict would be more difficult with them than with Indians.
I warned my men at once of the probable danger, and arranged them in
order of battle. I was ready either to perish myself, or destroy that
nest of wasps, and resolved to strike the first blow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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