Dick Onslow | Page 2

Mountains for
California. The women, children, and stuff were in Laban's two wagons.
Other settlers had their wagons also. The older men rode; I, with the
younger, walked, with our rifles at our backs, and our axes and knives
in our belts. I had, besides, a trusty revolver, which had often stood me
in good stead.
We were not over-delicate when we started, and we soon got
accustomed to the hard life we had to lead, till camping-out became a
real pleasure rather than an inconvenience. We had skin tents for the
older men, and plenty of provisions, and as we kept along the banks of
the rivers, we had abundance of grass and water for the horses. At last
we had to leave the forks of the Missouri river, and to follow a track
across the desolate Nebraska country, over which the wild Pawnees,
Dacotahs, Omahas, and many other tribes of red men rove in
considerable numbers. We little feared them, however, and thought
much more of the herds of wild buffaloes we expected soon to have the
pleasure both of shooting and eating.
We had encamped one night close to a wood near Little Bear Creek,
which runs into the Nebraska river. The following morning broke with
wet and foggy weather. It would have been pleasant to have remained
in camp, but the season was advancing, and it was necessary to push on.
All the other families had packed up and were on the move; Laban's,
for a wonder, was the last. The women and children were already
seated in the lighter wagon, and Obed Ragget and I were lifting the last
load into the other, and looking round to see that nothing was left
behind, when our ears were saluted with the wildest and most unearthly
shrieks and shouts, and a shower of arrows came whistling about our
ears. "Shove on! shove on!" we shouted to Simri and Joab, who were at
the horses' heads; "never mind the tent." They lashed the horses with
their whips. The animals plunged forward with terror and pain, for all
of them were more or less wounded. We were sweeping round close to
the edge of the wood, and for a moment lost sight of the rest of the
party. Then, in another instant, I saw them again surrounded by Indian
warriors, with plumes of feathers, uplifted hatchets, and red paint,

looking very terrible. The women were standing up in the wagon with
axes in their hands, defending themselves bravely. A savage had seized
one of the children and was dragging it off, when Mrs Ragget struck
with all her might at the red-skin's arm, and cut it clean through; the
savage drew back howling with pain and rage. Old Laban in the
meantime, with his brother and two others, kept in front, firing away as
fast as they could load while they ran on: for they saw if once the
redskins could get hold of the horses' heads, they would be completely
in their power. All this time several of the things were tumbling out of
the wagon, but we could not stop to pick them up. Why the rest of the
party, who were ahead, did not come back to our assistance, I could not
tell. I thought that they also were probably attacked. We four ran on for
some way, keeping the Indians at a respectful distance, for they are
cowardly rascals-- notwithstanding all the praise bestowed on them--if
courageously opposed. I was loading my rifle, and then taking aim at
four mounted Indians who appeared on the right with rifles in their
hands. They fired, but missed me, as I meantime was dodging them
behind the wagon. During this, I did not see where Obed was. I hit one
of them, and either Simri or Joab, who fired at the same time, hit
another. The other two wheeled round, and with some companions,
hovered about us at some little distance. Just then, not hearing Obed's
voice, I looked round. He was nowhere to be seen. I was shouting to his
brothers to stop and go back with me to look for him, when
half-a-dozen more Indians, joining the others, galloped up at the same
moment to attack the headmost wagon. Simri and Joab, lashing their
horses, rushed on to the assistance of their family. The savages fired. I
was springing on when I felt myself brought to the ground, grasping
my rifle, which was loaded. A shot had gone right through both my
legs. I tried with desperate struggles to get up, but could not lift myself
from the ground. All the horror of my condition crowded into my mind.
To be killed and scalped was the best fate I could expect. Just as I was
about to