Reminiscences of a PioneerThompson, William, Colonel
History
Reminiscences of a Pioneer
Thompson, William, Colonel
Frontier and pioneer life -- Oregon; Modoc Indians -- Wars
As evening wore on and we were getting further and further away from our
camp on the John Day, we were more than usually careful. Patches of
willows, narrow canyons and high rye grass bottoms were avoided. In
fact, we kept on open ground where we could see an enemy several hundred
yards away. We figured that in an open field fight we could more than
hold our own, notwithstanding the fact that we were only four in number,
counting the Indian. But by-and-by, our traveling companion became a
source of considerable uneasiness. When questioned regarding his lost
horse he did not give straight replies, but was evasive and somewhat
contradictory, and Mr. Driskol began to have suspicions regarding his
friendly intentions. But what to do, or how to rid ourselves of his
presence, was a puzzling question. Besides, we felt that we were safer
where he could be watched than if out of our sight. That night, after
eating our suppers, we traveled some distance after dark and stopped on
a level piece of ground away from the creek bottom. We felt safer in the
open country than in the high rye grass, especially on account of our
Indian companion. We were very careful not to let the Indian see that we
were suspicious of him, and after unsaddling and unpacking our horses
all but the elder Driskol rolled up in their blankets, the Indian
choosing a spot about ten steps away from us. Before lying down, it was
deemed best to keep a strict watch on our fellow traveler, and if
necessary keep him with us if we had to make him a prisoner. Of course
nothing was said to him about keeping watch. During the night he was
several times detected, cautiously rising on his elbow and looking
around. Discovering the guard he would lie down with a grunt as if with
satisfaction.
When daylight came we started to saddle up and load our two pack horses,
intending to go some distance upon our return trip, before stopping for
breakfast. Saddles were on the riding horses and the Driskols were
loading the packs. I had been directed to keep a close watch on the
Indian, "and if he attempts to get away, shoot him," said the elder
Driskol. They were perhaps twenty steps away, and one of the pack horses
starting off, the young man went to bring him back. The old gentleman
was busy with the pack, when suddenly, quick almost as a flash, the
Indian leaped upon young Driskol's horse and started off. The movement
took me by surprise and for an instant I sat as if stupified. Then
seeing the rascal going like sin, I raised my rifle, took deliberate
aim, and fired. The Indian threw back his head and throwing his arms
aloft, plunged headlong into the grass.
"There goes that d----d boy, shooting another goose," said old gentleman
Driskol, almost without looking around.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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