For some time the savage hors.e.m.e.n continued their circling gallop around the b.u.t.te--one occasionally swooping nearer; but covered by the body of his horse in such a way that it was impossible to sight him. These manoeuvres were executed by the young warriors, apparently in a spirit of bravado, and with the design of showing off their courage and equestrian skill. We disregarded the harmless demonstrations, watching them only when made in the direction of our animals. At intervals a hideous face peeping over the withers of a horse, offered a tempting target. My comrades would have tried a flying shot had I not restrained them. A miss would have damaged our prestige in the eyes of the enemy.
It was of importance that they should continue to believe in the infallibility of the fire-weapon.
After a time, we observed a change of tactics. The galloping slackened, and soon came to an end. The hors.e.m.e.n threw themselves into small groups, at nearly equal distances apart, and forming a ring round the b.u.t.te. Most of the riders then dismounted, a few only remaining upon their horses, and continuing to dash backward and forward, from group to group. These groups were beyond the range of our rifles, though not of the sergeant"s musket. But the savages--both mounted and afoot--had taken care to make ramparts of their steeds. At first, this manoeuvre of our enemies appeared to have no other object than that of placing themselves in a position to guard against our retreat. A moment"s reflection, however, told us that this could not be the design. There were but two points by which we could pa.s.s down to the plain--on opposite sides of the b.u.t.te--why then should they _surround_ it? It could not be for the purpose of cutting off our retreat? That could be done as effectually without the circular deployment.
Their design soon became apparent. We observed that the muskets were distributed among the groups, three or four to each. With these they now opened fire upon us from all sides at once, keeping it up as fast as they could load the pieces. The effect was to render our situation a little more perilous. Not having the means to make our parapet continuous, we were at several points exposed. Had we had good marksmen to deal with, we should have been in danger. As it was, we drew well back towards the centre of the platform; and were screened by its outer angles. Now and then a shot struck the rock, sending the splinters in our faces; but all four of us escaped being hit by the bullets.
We had made an observation that rendered us uneasy: we had observed a weak point in our defence. We wondered that our a.s.sailants had not also noticed it. Around the b.u.t.te, and close up to its base, lay many boulders of rock. They were prisms of granite, that had become detached from the cairn itself, and rolled down its declivity. They rested upon the plain, forming a ring concentric with the circular base of the mound. Many of these boulders had a diameter of six feet, and would have sheltered the body of a man from our shots. Others, again, rested along the sloping sides of the b.u.t.te--also of prismatic shapes, with sides overhanging. These might form ramparts for our a.s.sailants should they attempt to storm our position. Even the spreading cedars would have hidden them from our sight. They were the trailing juniper of the western wilds--very different from the Virginian cedar. They were of broad bushy forms, with stunted stems, and tortuous branches, densely set with a dark acetalous foliage. They covered the sides of the b.u.t.te, from base to middle height, with a draping perfectly impenetrable to the eye. Though there was no path save that already mentioned, a.s.sailants, active as ours, might unseen have scaled the declivity. Should the Indians make a bold, dash up to the base of the b.u.t.te, leave their horses, and take to the rocks, they might advance upon us without risk.
While working their way up the slope, they would be safe from our shots, sheltered by the projecting prisms, and screened by the trees. We should not dare to expose ourselves over the edge of the platform: since the others, remaining behind the boulders below, would cover us with their aim; and the shower of arrows would insure our destruction. Those who might scale the mound, would have us at their mercy. a.s.sailing us simultaneously from all sides, and springing suddenly upon the platform, ten to one against us, they could soon overpower us.
These were the observations we had made, and the reflections that resulted from them. We only wondered that our enemies had not yet perceived the advantage of this plan of attack; and, since they had neglected it so long, we were in hopes that the idea would not occur to them at all. It was not long before we perceived our error; and that we had miscalculated the cunning of our dusky foes. We saw the Indians once more taking to their horses. Some order had reached them from the Red-Hand, who stood conspicuous in the midst of the largest group of his warriors. The movement that resulted from this order was similar to that already practised in the endeavour to stampede our animals: only that all the band took part in it--even the chiefs mounting and riding among the rest. The marksmen _alone_ remained afoot, and continued to fire from behind their horses.
Once more the mounted warriors commence galloping in circles round the b.u.t.te. We perceive that at each wheel they are coming nearer, and can divine their intent. It is the very plan of attack we have been apprehending! We can tell by their gestures that they are about to charge forward to the rocks.
Regardless of the fire from the plain, we creep back to the edge of the parapet, and point our pieces towards the circling hors.e.m.e.n. We are excited with, new apprehensions; but the caution to keep cool is once more pa.s.sed around; and each resolves not to fire without being certain of his aim. On our first shots will depend the success or failure of the attack. As before, we arrange that two only shall fire at a time.
If the shots prove true, and two of our foes fall to them, it may check the charge, perhaps repulse it altogether? Such often happens with an onset of Indians--on whom the dread of the fire-weapon acts with a mysterious effect. On the other hand, if we miss, our fate is sealed and certain. We shall not even have the choice of that last desperate resort, on which we have built a hope. We shall be cut off from all escape: for our animals will be gone before we can reach them. On foot, it will be idle to attempt flight. Even could we run the gauntlet through their line, we know they could overtake us upon the plain!
We feel like men about to throw dice for our lives, and dice too that are loaded against us! Nearer and nearer they come, until they are coursing within fifty yards of the b.u.t.te, and scarcely twice that distance from our guns. Were their bodies uncovered, we could reach them; but we see only their hands, feet, and faces--the latter only at intervals. They draw nearer and nearer, till at length they are riding within the circle of danger. Our superior elevation gives us the advantage. We begin to see their bodies over the backs of their horses.
A little nearer yet, and some of these horses will go riderless over the plain! Ha! they have perceived their danger--one and all of them.
Notwithstanding their cries of bravado, and mutual encouragement, they dread to make the final rush. Each fears that himself may be the victim!
Our heads were growing dizzy with watching them, and we were still expecting to see some of them turn their horses, and dash inward to the b.u.t.te; when we heard a signal-cry circulating through their ranks. All at once the foremost of them was seen swerving off, followed by the whole troop! Before we could recover from our surprise, they had galloped far beyond the range of our guns, and once more stood halted upon the plain!
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.
A RAMPART ON WHEELS.
For a time, our hearts throbbed more lightly; the pressure of apprehension was removed. We fancied the savages had either not yet become fully aware of the advantage of storming our position, or that the certainty of losing some of their number had intimidated them from making the attempt. They had abandoned their design, whatever it was; and intended waiting for night--the favourite fighting-time of the Indian. This was just what we desired; and we were congratulating ourselves that the prospect had changed in our favour. Our joy was short-lived: the enemy showed no signs of repose. Cl.u.s.tered upon the plain, they still kept to their horses. By this, we knew that some other movement was intended. The chiefs were again in the centre of the crowd, the Red-Hand conspicuous. He was heard haranguing his warriors, though we could not guess the purport of his speech. His gestures told of fierce rage--his glances, now and then directed towards us, betokened a spirit of implacable vengeance. At the conclusion of his speech, he waved his hand in the direction of the waggon. The gesture appeared to be the accompaniment of a command. It was promptly and instantly obeyed. A dozen hors.e.m.e.n dashed out from the group, and galloped off.
Their course was straight up the valley--towards the scene of their late strife. Those who had remained upon the ground dismounted, and were seen giving their horses to the gra.s.s. This might have led us to antic.i.p.ate a suspension of hostilities; but it did not. The att.i.tude of our enemies was not that of purposed repose. On the contrary, they came together afoot; and engaged in what appeared to be an eager consultation. The chiefs spoke in turn. Some new scheme was being discussed. We watched the party who had ridden off. As antic.i.p.ated, the waggon proved to be the _b.u.t.t_ of their excursion. Having reached it, they halt; and, dismounting, become grouped around it. It is impossible for some time to tell what they are doing. Even the gla.s.s does not reveal the nature of their movements. There are others besides those who rode up; and the white tilt appears in the midst of is dark cl.u.s.ter of men and horses. Their errand at length becomes obvious. The crowd is seen to scatter. Horses appear harnessed to the tongue--the wheels are in motion--the vehicle is turning round upon the plain. We see that some half-dozen horses are hitched on, with men seated upon their backs as teamsters! They make a wheel, and head down the valley in the direction of the b.u.t.te. They are seen urging the animals into a rapid pace. The waggon, no longer loaded, leaps lightly over the smooth sward. The horses are spurred into a gallop; and amidst the shouts of the savage drivers, drag the huge vehicle after them with the rough rapidity of a mountain howitzer. In a few minutes, it advances to the ground occupied by the dismounted band, who surround it upon its arrival.
We upon the summit have a full view of all. We recognise the well-known Troy waggon--with its red wheels, blue body, and ample canvas roof. The lettering, "Troy, New York," is legible on the tilt--a strange sight in the midst of its present possessors! What can be their object with the waggon? Their actions leave us not long in doubt. The horses are unharnessed and led aside. Half-a-dozen savages are seen crouching under the axles, and laying hold of the spokes. As many more stand behind--screened from our sight by the tilt-cloth, the body, and boxing.
The pole projects in the direction of the mound!
Their object is now too painfully apparent. Without thinking of the a.n.a.logy of the Trojan horse, we see that this monster of a modern Troy is about to be employed for a similar purpose. Yes--shielded by the thick planking of its bed--by its head and hind boards--by its canvas covering, and other cloths which they have cunningly spread along its sides, the savages may approach the mound in perfect safety. Such is their design. With dismay, we perceive it. We can do nought either to r.e.t.a.r.d or hinder its execution. Those under the vehicle can "spoke" the wheels forward, without in the least exposing their bodies to our aim.
Even their hands and arms are not visible: buffalo-robes and blankets hang over, draping the wheels from our view. Those behind are equally well screened; and can propel the huge machine, without risk of danger.
We note all these circ.u.mstances with feelings of keen apprehension. We adopt no means to hinder the movement: we can think of none, since none is possible. We are paralysed by a sense of our utter helplessness.
We are allowed but little time to reflect upon it. Amidst the shouts of the savages, we hear the creaking of the wheels; we behold the ma.s.s in motion! Onward it comes toward the mound--advancing with apparently spontaneous motion, as if it were some living monster--some horrid mammoth--approaching to destroy and devour us!
Had it been such a monster, its proximity could scarce have inspired us with a greater dread. We felt that our destruction was equally certain.
The savages would now surround us--advance up the rocks--spring upon us from all sides at once; and, although we might fight to the death--which we had determined to do--still must we die. The knowledge that we should die fighting, and with arms in our hands--that we should fall upon the corpses of our enemies, avenging death before parting with life--this knowledge was but a feeble ray to support and cheer us.
Though no cowards--not one of us--we could not look forward to our fate, without a feeling of dread. The certainty of that fate we could no longer question. Even the time seemed to be fixed. In a few minutes, the a.s.sailants would be upon us; and we should be engaged in the last struggle of our lives--without the slightest probability of being able to save them!
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.
THE a.s.sAULT.
With the prospect of such fatal issue--so proximate as to seem already present--no wonder that our hearts were dismayed at sight of the waggon moving towards us. As the inhabitants of a leaguered city behold with fear the advance of the screened catapult or mighty "ram," so regarded we the approach of that familiar vehicle--now a very monster in our eyes. We were not permitted to view the spectacle in perfect security.
As the waggon moved forward, those who carried the muskets drew still nearer under cover of their horses, and once more played upon us their uncertain but dangerous shower. With the bullets hissing above and around us, we were forced to lie low--only at intervals raising our heads to note the progress of the party proceeding to storm.
Slowly but surely the machine moved on--its wheels turning under the impulse of brawny arms--and impelled forward by pressure from behind.
To fire upon it would have been of no avail: our bullets would have been thrown away. As easily might they have pierced through a stockade of tree-trunks. Oh! for a howitzer! but one discharge of iron grape to have crashed through those planks of oak and ash--to have scattered in death, that human machinery that was giving them motion! Slowly and steadily it moved on--stopping only as some large pebble opposed itself to the wheel--then on again as the obstacle was surmounted--on till the intervening s.p.a.ce was pa.s.sed over, and the triumphant cheer of our savage foemen announced the attainment of their object.
Risking the straggling shots, we looked over. The waggon had reached the base of the b.u.t.te; its tongue was forced up among the trees--its body stood side by side with the granite prisms. The storming party no longer required it as a shield: they would be sufficiently sheltered by the great boulders; and to these they now betook themselves--pa.s.sing from one to the other, until they had completely surrounded the b.u.t.te.
We observed this movement, but could not prevent it. We saw the Indians flitting from rock to rock, like red spectres, and with the rapidity of lightning flashes! In vain we attempted to take aim; before a barrel could be brought to bear upon them, they were gone out of sight. We ourselves, galled by the leaden hail, were forced to withdraw behind our ramparts.
A moment of suspense followed. We knew not how to act: we were puzzled by their movements, as well as by the silence in which they were making them. Did they intend to climb up the b.u.t.te, and openly attack us?
What else should be their design? What other object could they have in surrounding it? Only about a dozen had approached under cover of the waggon. Was it likely that so few of them would a.s.sail us boldly and openly? No. Beyond a doubt, they had some other design! Ha! what means that blue column slowly curling upward? It is smoke! See!
Another and another--a dozen of them! From all sides they shoot upward, encircling the mound! Hark to those sounds! the "swish" of burning gra.s.s--the crackle of kindling sticks? They are making fires around us!
The columns are at first filmy, but soon grow thicker and more dense.
They spread out and join each other--they become attracted towards the rocky ma.s.s--they fall against its sides, and wreathing upward, wrap its summit in their ramifications. The platform is enveloped in the cloud!
We see the savages upon the plain--dimly, as if through a c.r.a.pe. Those with the guns in their hands still continue to fire; the others are dismounting. The latter abandon their horses, and appear to be advancing on foot. Their forms through the magnifying mist loom spectral and gigantic! They are visible only for a moment. The smoke rolls its thick volume around the summit, and shrouds them from our sight. We no longer see our enemy or the earth. The sky is obscured-- even the rock on which we stand is no longer visible, nor one of us to the other!
Throughout all continues the firing from the plain; the bullets hurtle around our heads, and the clamour of our foemen reaches our ears with fierce thrilling import. We hear the crackling of f.a.ggots, and the spurting hissing noise of many fires; but perceive no blaze--only the thick smoke rising in continuous waves, and every moment growing denser around us. We can bear it no longer; we are half-suffocated. Any form of death before this! Is it too late to reach our horses? Doubtless, they are already s.n.a.t.c.hed away? No matter: we cannot remain where we are. In five minutes, we must yield to the fearful asphyxia.
"No! never! let us die as we had determined, with arms in our hands!"
Voices husky and hoa.r.s.e make answer in the affirmative.
We spring to our feet, and come together--so that we can touch each other. We grasp our guns, and get ready our knives and pistols. We make to the edge of the rock, and, sliding down, a.s.sure ourselves of the path. We grope our way downward, guided by the granite walls on each side. We go not with caution, but in the very recklessness of a desperate need. We are met by the ma.s.ses of smoke still rolling upwards. Further down, we feel the hot caloric as we come nearer to the crackling fires. We heed them not, but rush madly forward--till we have cleared both the cloud and the flames, and stand upon the level plain!
It is but escaping from the fires of h.e.l.l to rush into the midst of its demons. On all sides they surround us with poised spears and brandished clubs. Amidst their wild yells, we scarcely hear the cracking of our guns and pistols; and those who fall to our shots are soon lost to our sight, behind the bodies of others who crowd forward to encompa.s.s us.
For a short while we keep together, and fight, back to back, facing our foes. But we are soon separated; and each struggles with a dozen a.s.sailants around him!
The struggle was not protracted. So far as I was concerned, it ended, almost on the instant of my being separated from my comrades. A blow from behind, as of a club striking me upon the skull, deprived me of consciousness: leaving me only the one last thought--_that it was death_!
CHAPTER SIXTY.
A CAPTIVE ON A CRUCIFIX.
Am I dead? Surely it _was_ death, or an oblivion that equalled it? But no--I live! I am conscious that I live. Light is falling upon my eyes--thought is returning to my soul! Am I upon earth? or is it another world in which I awake? It is a bright world--with a sky of blue, and a sun of gold; but are they the sky and sun of the earth?
Both may belong to a future world? I can see no earth--neither fields, nor trees, nor rocks, nor water--nought but the blue canopy and the golden orb. Where is the earth? It should be under and around me, but I cannot see it. Neither around nor beneath can I look--only upward and forward--only upon the sun and the sky! What hinders me from turning?
Is it that I sleep, and dream? Is the incubus of a horrid nightmare upon me? Am I, like Prometheus, chained to a rock face upward? No--not thus; I feel that I am standing--erect as if nailed against a wall! If I am not dreaming, I am certainly in an upright att.i.tude. I feel my limbs beneath me; while my arms appear to be stretched out to their full extent, and held as in the grasp of some invisible hand! My head, too, is fixed: I can neither turn nor move it. A cord traverses across my cheeks. There is something between my teeth. A piece of wood it appears to be? It gags me, and half stifles my breathing! Am I in human hands? or are they fiends who are thus clutching me?
Anon my senses grow stronger, but wild fancies still mock me: I am yet uncertain if it be life! What are those dark objects pa.s.sing before my eyes? They are birds upon the wing--large birds of sable plumage. I know them. They are vultures. They are of the earth. Such could not exist in a region of spirits? Ah! those sounds! they are weird enough to be deemed unearthly--wild enough to be mistaken for the voices of demons. From far beneath, they appear to rise--as if from the bowels of the earth, sinking and swelling in prolonged chorus. I know and recognise the voices: they are human. I know the chaunted measure: it is the death-song of the Indian! The sounds are suggestive. I am not dreaming--I am not dead. I am awake, and on the earth.
Memory comes to my aid. By little and little, I begin to realise my situation. I remember the siege--the smoke--the confused conflict--all that preceded it, but nothing after. I thought I had been killed. But no--I live--I am a captive. My comrades--are _they_ alive? Not likely.
Better for them, if they be not. The consciousness of life need be no comfort to me. In that wild chaunt there is breathing a keen spirit of vengeance. Oh! that I had not survived to hear it! Too surely do I know what will follow that dirge of death. It might as well be my own!
I am in pain. My position pains me--and the hot sun glaring upon my cheek. My arms and limbs smart under thongs that bind too tightly. One crosses my throat that almost chokes me, and the stick between my teeth renders breathing difficult. There is a pain upon the crown of my head, and my skull feels as if scalded. Oh Heavens! _have they scalped me_?
With the thought, I endeavour to raise my hand. In vain: I cannot budge either hand or arm. Not a finger can I move; and I am forced to remain in horrid doubt as to whether the _hair_ be still upon my head--with more than a probability that it is gone! But how am I confined? and where? I am fast bound to something: every joint in my body is fixed and immobile, as if turned to stone! I can feel thongs cutting sharply into my skin; and my back and shoulders press against some supporting substance, that seems as hard as rock. I cannot tell what it is. I cannot even see my own person--neither breast nor body--neither arms nor legs--not an inch of myself. The fastening over my face holds it upturned to the sky; and my head feels firmly set--as if the vertebral column of my neck had become ossified into a solid ma.s.s!