The Devil's Own: A Romance of the Black Hawk WarParrish, Randall
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The Devil's Own: A Romance of the Black Hawk War
Parrish, Randall
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
I took one more glance at the sight, fascinated by its very horror,
then wheeled my terrified horse, and rode back. Heartless as his words
sounded, they were nevertheless true. We could be of no aid to the
dead, while upon us yet rested the duty of guarding the living. The
young negress lifted her head, and gazed at me dully, so thoroughly
tired as to be indifferent as to what had occurred; but Eloise read
instantly the message of my face.
"You have looked upon something terrible," she cried. "What was it? a
dead body?"
"Eleven dead bodies," I answered gravely, my lips trembling. "A squad
of militiamen were surprised by Indians over there, and slaughtered to
a man, apparently with no chance to even defend themselves. I have
never seen a more terrible sight."
"Indians, you say! Here?" her eyes widening in horror. "When do you
suppose this happened? how long ago?"
"Within twelve hours certainly; probably soon after dawn. The attack
must have been made while the soldiers were at breakfast."
"Then--then those Indians cannot be far away?"
"We have no means of knowing; but it will be assuredly safer for us to
get under cover. Come, both of you."
"They were all killed--all of them? You are sure?"
"Yes; it would be impossible for any among them to be alive--the bodies
were scalped, and mutilated."
I caught the rein of her horse, and Elsie, who was now wide awake, and
trembling with fear, pressed forward, close to my other side, moaning
and casting her frightened glances backward. Kennedy was already
started in advance of us on foot, leading his animal, and seeking to
discover the quickest passage to shelter. The valley below was a deep
and pleasant one, with sides forest clad, and so thickly timbered we
were almost immediately concealed the moment we began the descent. On
a narrow terrace the deputy halted us.
"I reckon maybe this yere is as gud as eny place fer ter stop," he said
rather doubtfully. "Thar ain't noboddy kin see us, nohow, an' thar's a
gud spring over yonder. It'll be mighty dark in an hour, an' then we
kin go on; only my hoss is about did up. Whut ye say, Cap?"
"We are probably as safe here as anywhere in the neighborhood. Let me
help you down, Eloise. Is that all you have to report, Tim?"
He lifted his hat, and scratched gently his thin hair.
"Only thet them Injuns went south. I done run onto their trail after
yer left--it wus plain as the nose on yer face. Thar must'r bin a slew
o' 'em, an' sum a hoss-back; they wus a strikin' straight across
yonder, an' I reckon they fetched a prisoner 'long, sumbody wearin'
boots enyhow, fer I saw the tracks in the mud."
"Poor fellow. We'll not remain here, Kennedy, only to rest for an
hour, or two. We'll not risk a fire."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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