Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction; Pioneers -- West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction; Slavery -- Juvenile fiction
He shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. The ground had now become
more uneven than heretofore. Before us rose an undulating hill of no
great elevation, but of sufficient height to prevent us from seeing any
distance to the eastward, and we had to rein in our horses as we mounted
it. On reaching the top, the sergeant gave the order to halt, unslung
his telescope, and swept the horizon from north to south.
"There's the train," he exclaimed, "coming this way, about three miles
off." Directly afterwards he added, "and there to the southward I see a
troop of mounted Indians; there must be a hundred or more of them. They
have discovered the train, and are galloping towards it as fast as their
horses can go, hoping, I doubt not, to gain an easy victory."
Borrowing the Dominie's glass, I took a look through it, when to my
dismay I perceived that the Indians were much nearer the train than we
were, and might have time to swoop down upon it and be off again before
we could arrive. My father apparently had not discovered them. While,
however, I was still looking through the telescope, I saw the leading
waggons stop and the others move up. I had no doubt that my father,
having discovered the approaching foe, as preparing to meet them by
forming a square. Just then the sergeant cried out--
"We must ride direct for the train, as we shall not be in time to cut
off the redskins before they reach it. Forward!"
On we dashed at headlong speed. We had far to go, and in some places
the ground was uneven; but if we were to save our friends from being cut
to pieces, we must not pull rein until we were up to them. On and on we
pressed. The train, formed in square, came in sight to the naked eye,
as did the body of Indians who appeared close to it. Except the tramp
of our horses over the yielding ground, not a sound was heard, until
suddenly some puffs of smoke were seen and the rattle of musketry
reached our ears. The Indians halted for an instant, but they were too
far off to enable us to see whether or not they shot their arrows at the
camp. Again and again the sound of fire-arms was heard, followed by
war-whoops which, even at that distance, had a fearful sound. A belt of
trees by the side of a dry water-course concealed the Indians from view,
and, their eyes being fixed on their expected prey, they had hitherto
probably not seen us. Louder and louder grew the noise of fighting,
showing us that our friends were still holding out. I knew full well
indeed that my father and uncle would fight to the last. Whether they
had discovered that succour was at hand, we could not tell. It would
not have prevented them from fighting hard, but it would have encouraged
the men to hold out till we had reached them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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