CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE.
Our host continued:--
"Well, my friends, I was in Saint Louis. I had now left out of my threethousand pounds not quite an hundred; and this would soon melt awayshould I remain idle. What was I to do?
"There happened to be a young Scotchman at the hotel where I had put up.He was, like myself, a stranger in Saint Louis; and being from the `oldcountry,' we soon became acquainted, and, very naturally under thecircumstances, shared each other's confidence. I told him of myblunders in Virginia and Cairo, and I believe that he really feltsympathy for me. In return, he detailed to me part of his past history,and also his plans for the future. He had been for several yearsemployed in a copper mine, away near the centre of the Great AmericanDesert, in the mountains called Los Mimbres, that lie west of the DelNorte river.
"They are a wonderful people these same Scotch. They are but a smallnation, yet their influence is felt everywhere upon the globe. Go whereyou will, you will find them in positions of trust and importance--always prospering, yet, in the midst of prosperity, still remembering,with strong feelings of attachment, the land of their birth. Theymanage the marts of London--the commerce of India--the fur trade ofAmerica--and the mines of Mexico. Over all the American wilderness youwill meet them, side by side with the backwoods-pioneer himself, andeven pushing him from his own ground. From the Gulf of Mexico to theArctic Sea, they have impressed with their Gaelic names rock, river, andmountain; and many an Indian tribe owns a Scotchman for its chief. Isay, again, they are a wonderful people.
"Well; my Saint Louis Scotchman had come from his mine upon a visit ofbusiness to the United States, and was now on his return by Saint Louisand Santa Fe. His wife was along with him--a fine-looking, youngMexican woman, with only one child. He was waiting for a small caravanof Spanish people, who were about to start for New Mexico. With thesehe intended to travel, so as to be in safety from the Indians along theroute.
"As soon as he understood my situation, he advised me to accompany him--offering me a lucrative situation in the mine, of which he was the solemanager.
"Disgusted as I then was with the treatment I had received in the UnitedStates, I embraced his proposal with alacrity; and, under hissuperintendence, I set about making preparations for the long journeythat lay before us. The money I had left, enabled me to equip myself ina tolerable manner. I bought a wagon and two pair of stout oxen. Thiswas to carry my wife and children, with such furniture and provisions aswould be necessary on the journey. I had no need to hire a teamster, asour faithful Cudjo was to accompany us, and I knew there was no betterhand to manage a team of oxen than Cudjo. For myself I purchased ahorse, a rifle, with all the paraphernalia that are required by thosewho cross the great prairies. My boys, Harry and Frank, had also asmall rifle each, which we had brought with us from Virginia: and Harrywas very proud of the manner in which he could handle his.
"Everything being prepared, we bade adieu to Saint Louis, and set forthupon the wild prairies.
"Ours was but a small caravan, as the large one which crosses annuallyto Santa Fe had taken its departure some weeks before. There were abouttwenty men of us, and less than half that number of wagons. The menwere nearly all Mexicans, who had been to the United States to procuresome pieces of cannon, for which they had been sent by the governor ofSanta Fe. They had the cannon along with them--two brass howitzers,with their carriages and caissons.
"My friends, I need not tell you the various incidents that befell us,in crossing the great plains and rivers that lie between Saint Louis andSanta Fe. Upon the plains we fell in with the Pawnees; and near thecrossing of the Arkansas, we encountered a small tribe of Cheyennes; butneither of these bands offered us any molestation. When we were nearlytwo months on our journey, the party left the usual trail taken by thetraders, and struck across to one of the head tributaries of theCanadian river. This they did to avoid meeting the Arapahoes, who werehostile to the Mexican people. We kept down the banks of this stream asfar as the Canadian itself; and, then turning westward, travelled up thelatter. We travelled upon the right or southern bank, for we had fordedthe Canadian on reaching it.
"It soon became apparent that we had got into a very rough and difficultcountry. It was the morning of the second day, after we had turnedwestward up the Canadian river. We were making but slow progress, asthe trail we had to follow was intersected at frequent intervals with`arroyos' running into the river from the south. Many of these weredeep ditches, although quite dry; and every now and then we werecompelled to stop the whole train until we levelled in the banks, andmade a road for the wagons to pass.
"In crossing one of these ruts, the tongue of my wagon was broken; andCudjo and I, having loosed out the oxen, set about splicing it the bestway we could. The rest of the train was ahead of us, and kept movingon. My friend, the young Scotchman, seeing that we had stopped, camegalloping back, and offered to remain and assist us. I declined hisoffer, telling him to move on with the rest, as I would easily overtakethem; at all events, I would get up, whenever they halted for theirnight camp. It was not unfrequent for a single wagon, with itsattendants, thus to stay behind the rest, to make some repairs. When itdid not come up to the night encampment, a party would go back early thenext morning to ascertain the cause of the delay. For several years,before the time I am telling you about, there had been no trouble withthe Indians in crossing the prairies; and consequently the people of thecaravans had grown less cautious. Besides, we were then in a part ofthe country where Indians had been seldom seen--as it was an extremelydesert place, without grass or game of any description. On thisaccount--and knowing that Cudjo was an excellent carpenter--I had nofears but that I could be up with the others before night. So, by mypersuasion, the young Scotchman left me, and rode on to look after hisown wagons.
"After about an hour's hammering and splicing, Cudjo and I got thetongue all right again; and `hitching up' the oxen, we drove on afterour companions. We had not gone a mile, when the shoeing of one of thewheels--that had shrunk from the extreme dryness of the atmosphere--rolled off; and the felloes came very near flying asunder. We wereluckily able to prevent this, by suddenly stopping, and setting a propunder the body of the wagon. This, as you may perceive, was a much moreserious accident than the breaking of the tongue; and at first I thoughtof galloping forward, and asking some of our companions to come back tomy assistance. But in consequence of my inexperience upon the prairies,I knew that I had given them considerable trouble along the route, atwhich some of them had murmured--being Mexicans--and in one or twoinstances had refused to assist me. I might bring back the youngScotchman, it was true, but--`Come!' cried I, `it is not yet as bad asCairo. Come, Cudjo! we shall do it ourselves, and be indebted to noone.'
"`Dat's right, Massa Roff!' replied Cudjo; `ebery man put him ownshoulder to him own wheel, else de wheel no run good.'
"And so the brave fellow and I stripped off our coats, and set to workin earnest. My dear Mary here, who had been brought up a delicate lady,but could suit herself gracefully to every situation, helped us all shecould, cheering us every now and then with an allusion to Cairo, and ourfarm under the water. It has always a comforting effect, to persons insituations of difficulty to reflect that they might still be worse off,and such reflections will often prop up the drooping spirits, and leadto success in conquering the difficulty. `Never give up' is a good oldmotto, and God will help them who show perseverance and energy.
"So did it happen with us. By dint of wedging and hammering wesucceeded in binding the wheel as fast as ever; but it was near nightbefore we had finished the job. When we had got it upon the axle again,and were ready for the road, we saw, with some apprehension, that thesun was setting. We knew we could not travel by night, not knowing whatroad to take; and, as we were close to water, we resolved to stay wherewe were until morning.
"We were up before day, and, having cooked and eaten our breakfast,moved for
ward upon the track made by the caravan. We wondered that noneof our companions had come back during the night--as this is usual insuch cases,--but we expected _every_ moment to meet some of themreturning to look after us. We travelled on, however, until noon, andstill none of them appeared. We could see before us a rough tract ofcountry with rocky hills, and some trees growing in the valleys; and thetrail we were following evidently led among these.
"As we pushed forward, we heard among the hills a loud crashing reportlike the bursting of a bombshell. What could it mean? We knew therewere some shells along with the howitzers. Were our comrades attackedby Indians, and was it one of the cannon they had fired upon them? No;that could not be. There was but one report, and I knew that thedischarge of a shell from a howitzer must give two,--that whichaccompanies the discharge, and then the bursting of the bomb itself.Could one of the shells have burst by accident? That was more likely;and we halted, and listened for further sounds. We stopped for nearlyhalf an hour, but could hear nothing, and we then moved on again. Wewere filled with apprehension--less from the report we had heard, thanfrom the fact that none of the men had come back to see what delayed us.We still followed the track of the wagons. We saw that they must havemade a long march on the preceding day, for it was near sunset when weentered among the hills, and as yet we had not reached their camp of thenight before. At length we came in sight of it,--and oh! horror! what asight! My blood runs cold when I recall it to my memory. There werethe wagons--most of them with their tilts torn off, and part of theircontents scattered over the ground. There were the cannons too, withfires smouldering near them, but not a human being was in sight! Yes,there were human beings--dead men lying over the ground! and livingthings--wolves they were--growling, and quarrelling, and tearing theflesh from their bodies! Some of the animals that had belonged to thecaravan were also prostrate--dead horses, mules, and oxen. The otherswere not to be seen.
"We were all horror-struck at the sight. We saw at once that ourcompanions had been attacked and slaughtered by some band of savageIndians. We would have retreated, but it was now too late, for we wereclose in to the camp, before we had seen it. Had the savages still beenupon the ground, retreat would be of no avail. But I knew that theymust have gone some time, from the havoc the wolves had made in theirabsence.
"I left my wife by our wagon, where Harry and Frank remained with theirlittle rifles ready to guard her, and along with Cudjo I went forward toview the bloody scene. We chased the wolves from their repast. Therewas a pack of more than fifty of these hideous animals, and they onlyran a short distance from us. On reaching the ground we saw that thebodies were those of our late comrades, but they were all so mutilatedthat we could not distinguish a single one of them. They had every onebeen scalped by the Indians; and it was fearful to look upon them asthey lay. I saw the fragments of one of the shells that had burst inthe middle of the camp, and had torn two or three of the wagons topieces. There had not been many articles of merchandise in the wagons,as it was not a traders' caravan; but such things as they carried, thatcould be of any value to the Indians, had been taken away. The otherarticles, most of them heavy and cumbersome things, were lying over theground, some of them broken. It was evident the savages had gone off ina hurry. Perhaps they had been frightened by the bursting of the shell,not knowing what it was, and from its terrible effects--which they nodoubt witnessed and felt--believing it to be the doing of the GreatSpirit.
"I looked on all sides for my friend, the young Scotchman, but I couldnot distinguish his body from the rest. I looked around, too, for hiswife--who was the only woman besides Mary that accompanied the caravan.Her body was not to be seen. `No doubt,' said I to Cudjo, `the savageshave carried her off alive.' At this moment we heard the howls andhoarse worrying of dogs, with the fiercer snarling of wolves, as thoughthe dogs were battling with these animals. The noises came from athicket near the camp. We knew that the miner had brought with him twolarge dogs from Saint Louis. It must be they. We ran in the directionof the thicket, and dashed in among the bushes. Guided by the noises,we kept on, and soon came in sight of the objects that had attracted us.Two large dogs, foaming and torn and covered with blood, were battlingagainst several wolves, and keeping them off from some dark object thatlay among the leaves. We saw that the dark object was a woman, andclinging around her neck, and screaming with terror, was a beautifulchild! At a glance we saw that the woman was dead, and--"
Here the narrative of our host was suddenly interrupted. McKnight, theminer, who was one of our party, and who had appeared labouring undersome excitement during the whole of the recital, suddenly sprang to hisfeet, exclaiming--
"O God! my wife--my poor wife! Oh! Rolfe--Rolfe--do you not know me?"
"McKnight!" cried Rolfe, springing up with an air of astonishment,"McKnight! it is he indeed!"
"My wife!--my poor wife!" continued the miner, in accents of sorrow. "Iknew they had killed her. I saw her remains afterwards--but my child!Oh, Rolfe! what of my child?"
"She is _there_!" said our host, pointing to the darkest of the twogirls, and the next moment the miner had lifted the little Luisa in hisarms, and was covering her with his kisses. He was her father!