CHAPTER XXIII

SURROUNDED BY KIOWAS

As the shades of evening crept over the plain it became impossible for me to see anything distinctly. The occasional reports of their carbines assured me that my companions were still standing off the savages.

I kept asking myself: "What can I do to help them?" But there was no reply.

I had no inclination to eat or sleep but prepared for a long, dismal night of watchfulness. After attending to the horses in the stable I went into our dugout and carried out some blankets and a buffalo robe, and, making a snug bed in the remains of our haystack, where I could command a pretty good view of our camp and surroundings, I settled down for a long night of torturing anxiety.

I had scarcely got settled when a slight noise from up the ravine attracted my attention, and, quickly jumping to the conclusion that some of the Indians were already looking for me, I strained eyes and ears to locate the one who had made the noise.

I soon discerned a dark object coming down the hollow, but, instead of the catlike tread of an approaching Indian, with rushing gallop and joyous bark Found came bounding up to me. In the semidarkness I saw something whitish about his neck, which I knew must be a message from Tom and Jack.

Rushing into the dugout, I lit a candle, and, untying from Found's collar a piece of paper, I read Tom's hastily scrawled note:

PECK: _The Injuns have got us corralled and got the mules. Both of us wounded but not bad. Laying under the wagon with the bales of wolf skins around us. Send us a few carbine cartridges by Found, and put Bills necklace on him, so we can send him on for Bill. Look out for yourself._

TOM.

"No time to be lost," I said to myself; and, sitting down, I quickly wrote on the reverse side of Tom's note:

BILL: _Come quick with soldiers. Tom and Jack are about three miles out on Larned trail. Read other side. I am O. K. at camp, so far._

PECK.

I fed the good dog, and, tying up four packs of Sharp's rifle cartridges--ten in a pack--in an old handkerchief, I made ready to send Found off. I first intended to tie the package around his neck but decided that he could more easily carry it by the mouth.

I tied my note to his collar, gave him a secure hold of the handkerchief of cartridges in his teeth, and taking down Bill's bead necklace from the wall I held it to his nose a moment to give him the scent, repeating as I did so, "Go to Bill! Go to Bill!" according to his master's instructions.

Found wagged his tail and looked at me as though he understood my wishes. I felt sure he would first go to Tom and Jack, who would take the cartridges, read my note to Bill, take off the necklace and give him a fresh scent, and send him on to the fort.

The tired dog had before him a long and dangerous run of about twenty miles, during which he would have to pass twice through the cordon of watchful Indians surrounding my comrades; but it was the only hope of saving the men, and Found seemed able and willing for the undertaking.

I felt confident that if the Kiowas did not kill or cripple him, Found would make the trip quickly. He had already evaded the Indians in returning to camp, and I felt strong hopes that his almost human intelligence would carry him through.

Found's first move on going out of the dugout was to go up on the roof and stand there for a little while sniffing the air. Then he turned and trotted to the ravine, up which he went at a run.

My nest in the hay was a good enough point for observation but not for defence, but I went back there to think things over.

The waning moon would rise about midnight. If the Indians waited till then before attacking I should command a somewhat clearer view of my surroundings.

I thought that the dog should reach the wagon in an hour after leaving me and felt sure that it would not be long after that before he set out on his longer run to the fort. This should take two or three hours, and I could only guess the time that would be occupied in awakening Bill and his dressing and rousing Saunders and then getting out Saunders' company. It seemed to me the troops ought to be on the way by midnight at the latest, and they ought to reach my companions in two hours from that time.

I had heard no shots from the direction of the wagon since dark, but a long time after the dog had left me, and while I was watching for the rising moon, I heard a shot or two, apparently from the rifles of the Indians, with no reply from the guns of my comrades. I supposed--rightly, as I afterward learned--that Found had reached the wagon and that the two men, by lighting matches to read my note, had drawn the fire from the Indians. On the other hand, it seemed to me possible that the Indians might have seen the dog and killed him.

At length a little light appeared in the east. The moon was about to rise, and it must be after midnight. When the moon looked over the tops of the timber and the light grew, I began to scrutinize objects in my vicinity and thought that a little way down the ravine I saw something like a wolf. It seemed to change its position a little several times, but remained too long in one place to be a wolf.

I was considering going into the dugout to get the field-glasses but had not yet moved when suddenly a streak of fire, rocket-like, shot up from the object I had been looking at, described a graceful curve, and struck in the hay a few feet from me. It was a fire-arrow shot by an Indian, to set fire to the haystack. The Indian could not have known that I was lying in the hay but thought that by firing it he would draw me out of the dugout and in the light of the fire would get a good shot at me.

I knew it would be folly to try to extinguish the blaze that at once sprang up. I jumped up, gathering blankets and buffalo robes in my arms, to run across to the dugout, and as I rose and showed up against the blaze I heard the crack of a rifle, and felt the shock of a bullet in the bundle in my arms. I was not hurt and dashed for the cabin door, and as I entered on a run I heard the report of another rifle from up the ravine and the spat of the bullet on the door-frame. The hay was now burning briskly, but I felt no anxiety for our horses in the stable almost under the fire, for the thick dirt roof protected them.

I closed and barred the door and then scrambled through the tunnel up into the tent and looked out through a port-hole which gave a good view for fifty yards up and down the valley.

I caught a glimpse of the Indian who had fired the hay as he looked out from behind a projecting bank, but could not see enough of him to justify shooting in the uncertain light. Of the Indian who had come near hitting me as I entered the cabin, I could see nothing. As I turned to look again at the first Indian I saw him stealthily move out from his concealment, crouching down, apparently peering at the cabin door. Pushing the muzzle of my carbine through the port-hole in front of me, I took as careful aim at him as I could and fired. I saw that I had hit him, for he dropped his rifle, fell, and rolled into the water but quickly scrambled back to his hiding-place and did not again show himself; but the flash of my rifle had been seen by my watchful neighbor up the ravine, who an instant later sent a bullet through the top of the tent over my head.

Presently the hay burned out and only the faint light of the moon showed the indistinct objects to me. Still I could see well enough up and down the ravine so that neither Indian could approach the door of the dugout without being seen. I had been standing on a bale of skins, which enabled me to look out of the port-hole, but now got down and cut another port-hole near the bottom of the tent, so that while lying protected by the bales I could watch for the flash of my neighbor's gun when next he fired. I could not see that the other Indian had attempted to recover his rifle and was disposed to think that my first shot had perhaps made him no longer dangerous.

While still lying among the bales of fur, looking out of the new port-hole I had cut, my neighbor up the gulch sent another bullet through the tent, above me, that would have hit me if I had remained in my former position.

I fired at the flash of his gun, but could not tell whether I had done him any harm. At all events, he seemed discouraged, for no more shots came from either Indian.

The hole I had cut near the bottom of the tent was on the east side, facing the stable door. The two doors of the tent were on the north and south sides. These I untied and propped a little open so that I could look out either way occasionally; I saw no further signs of activity of the enemy, and toward morning, as the air grew cold, I cut the thongs that bound a bale of buffalo robes and made a fairly comfortable bed, whence I could keep a sharp lookout.

It was a long, dreary, wretched night of anxiety. The soldiers did not come, and without them I could see no hope of escape for my comrades or myself.

As everything seemed so quiet in my vicinity I slipped down into the dugout, through the tunnel, and brought up some more cartridges and some food and cold coffee.

On looking out of my port-hole again I noticed with a hopeless feeling that daylight was fast coming and as yet no sign or sound of the hoped-for rescuers.

Suddenly I detected the sound of tramping horses' feet, and springing to my feet to get a better view out of the tent door, I looked in the direction from which the sounds came and could see indistinctly a party of mounted men, on the trot, skirting along the foot of the bluffs just southeast of camp, as though intending to pass it from the direction of To hausen's village.

"Could they be a reinforcement of Kiowas going to join Satank's party?" I asked myself. "No, they were keeping too well closed up for Indians. It must be Captain Saunders' company, and they have somehow missed the trail that would have taken them to the besieged wagon. But why don't they come here, instead of going by on the trot?"

While putting these puzzling questions to myself I was standing with the folds of the tent door slightly parted, peeping out stealthily, lest the bullet of my lurking foe might find me. When the party of mounted men were nearly opposite our tent I noticed one from the head of the column branch off and strike a gallop in my direction, and a moment later the welcome voice of Wild Bill called out:

"Halloo, Peck, are you still a-kicking?"

Answering him with an affirmative shout, I stepped out, forgetting for the moment the Indian who was watching for a shot at me. He failed to take advantage of the opportunity, for he saw that he was trapped and made a dash up out of the ravine and ran for the nearest point of bushes just back of our burned haystack.

I called to Bill, who was on the same side of the ravine as the fleeing Kiowa:

"Head him off, Bill! Kill him! Kill him!"

The scout instantly turned his horse and dashed after the Indian, who, seeing that he could not reach the brush before being overtaken, halted, turned, took deliberate aim at the oncoming horseman, and fired.

Down went horse and rider in a heap. The Kiowa dropped his rifle, drew his knife, and started forward to finish his fallen foe. As Bill was now between me and the Indian I was afraid to fire for fear of hitting my friend, who, I saw, was struggling to free himself from his dead horse. I ran across the ravine to where I thought I could help Bill, and before I reached the top of the bank on the other side I heard a shot and then Bill's war-whoop.

When I got in sight of them again Bill was still lying down, one foot under his dead horse, and the Kiowa was lying a few feet from him.

I rushed to him and helped to free him from his horse. On getting on his feet he assured me that he was not hurt, and then, looking toward the Kiowa and noticing that his enemy was not yet dead, with an exultant war-whoop Bill whipped out his knife, sprang to his dying foe, anxious to scalp him.

I had been so absorbed in this affair that I had not noticed that Captain Saunders with his troopers had turned out of his course and now came galloping up to us; seeing which Bill called out impatiently to the captain, waving him back:

"Don't stop here, Cap! There's only one Injun here, and I've fixed him! We're losing time, and we've lost too much already. I'm afraid them Kiowas out yonder'll get away from us yet. Shove your men along out that way lively."

And then suddenly stopping to listen to a rattle of firearms out toward the wagon, he exclaimed:

"There, do you hear that? Your lieutenant's opening the ball out there right now and them Kiowas'll be coming a-tearing this way in a few minutes. String your men out so's to catch them. I'll overtake you."

"But what will you do for a horse?" asked Saunders as he gave command for moving:

"I'll borrow Peck's black horse."

Saunders immediately put his men on the gallop toward the wagon on the prairie.

Taking Bill's hint of a remount, I rushed to the stable and got Prince out, while he was getting his saddle and bridle off his dead horse; and while hurriedly saddling the black horse Bill was giving me a brief account of how they came to be here at our camp instead of at the wagon.

"Found come through to Fort Larned on time, all right," he said, "and wanted to come back with me, but I locked him in my room. It took an everlasting time for Saunders to get his company ready to move. Well, after we started, I concluded that the Kiowas would hear us a-coming and get away, unless we could get around in their rear. So I got the captain to divide his men, leaving twenty, under Lieutenant Wilson, to lay around over about Ash Creek hollow until nigh daylight, and then to move up onto the Injuns around the wagon and start them this way, while with the other thirty men we got around on this side of them. We've been riding like the devil, but it was a long ways to go to get around here, and Lieutenant Wilson was to make the attack on his side at daylight, anyway, and he's a-doing it all right."

By this time we had Prince saddled, and, springing onto him, as he galloped after Saunders's party Bill called back to me:

"Keep a sharp lookout, Peck, till we get back here, for there may be some skulkers laying for you in the timber 'round here."