Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far WestDrannan, William F.
History
Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West
Drannan, William F.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- Wars
I decided to take the one on my right first, so that in case the
other two should attempt to arise I would be in a position to
shoot the one on my left and at the same time cut the other one
down with my heavy knife. But it was my intention to kill all
three of them with my knife, if possible, in order to save both
pistols for the two young ones, as I expected a hard fight with
them, for I felt sure they would be on to me by the time I got
through with the other three, at the very best I could do.
I now raised up on to my feet and aimed to strike the one on my
right about the middle of the neck. I came down with all my might
and killed him almost instantly. I served the second one the same
way, but by this time the third one had raised to a sitting
position, and I struck him in the shoulder and had to make a
second lick to kill him. By this time the other two had been
aroused, and, as near as I could tell in the darkness, one of them
was crawling in the opposite direction on his hands and knees,
while the other one was coming at me on all fours. I shot him with
the pistol that I held in my left hand, and I then thought I was
almost safe. Just at that moment the other young buck was on his
feet, with bow in hand but no arrows. He dealt me a blow on the
side of the head, which staggered me but did not knock me down,
and before I had time to recover, he dealt me a second blow, but
it did not stagger me so much as the first, but it brought the
blood quite freely from my nose, at the same time I made a side
stroke at him, but struck too low. I then drew my other pistol
from the holster and fired, shooting him through the chest, and
though he fell mortally wounded, he again raised to his feet and
dealt me another blow, which was a great surprise to me, but just
one stroke of my big knife severed his jugular and he yielded up
the ghost.
Now my task was done. At the risk of my life I had accomplished
the desired end, and my reputation as a scout would be
established.
I knew the other scouts were having some sport at my expense while
I was away, for I had overheard two of them in a conversation that
morning make some remarks about Col. Elliott's tenderfoot scout.
I had said nothing to them, but this made me all the more
determined in the undertaking, and now I had turned the joke on
them, and, as the old saying goes, "he who laughs last laughs
best."
I could see by the light in the east that the moon would be up in
a short time, so I went and got my saddle-horse from where I had
tied him, and who, by this time was very thirsty and hungry, as he
had had nothing to eat and no water since morning. I watered him,
then picketed him out for about two hours on the little meadow, by
which time the moon had risen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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