BUSH SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 704, 25 August 1870, Page 3

BUSH SKETCHES.

■ » (From the Australasian.) [Conclusion.] James laughed incredulously, and his brother got angry. The child was standing near U3 at the time, and he said, " If you're really ■ afraid, you'd better go, James." " Let the child go, John," replied his brother. " Indeed," answered John, " Polly's not frightened, if you are. Tell him so, ! Polly." The young girl laughed. She was a tall, strong, active child, always in rude health, and naturally fearless. She had been used to Indians from her infancy almost, and they had seemed fond of her. She said, ' Uncle James, you're not really afraid of Indians, are you ?"'. When James and I were alone, he told me that he was sure the new chief only came to play the spy, and to , throw us off our guard. * r You'll see," he i added, "we shall be attacked to-night. They think we have no ammunition, and they won't even wait till the hunting party returns. I shall keep watch." So we agreed to watch alternately, but the night passed , off quietly enough. The house was a long, low, log building of one storey, built in a bend of the river and close to the water, surrounded by a strong double-timbered i palisade fence, quite 10ft. high, and loop--1 holed. There was a door in the front, which when barricaded was as strong as any part of the fence, and another which opened on to the river at the back. The place could only : be attacked by boats in the rear, as the palisade jutted into the water on each side. The stable was a mere shed built against the back of the house. Towards morning I began to think that the elder brother was right after all, and I was just lying down to get a short sleep when James roused me up. "Quick," he said, " and help me to get out the guns. i We're in for it now." We soon carried out the firearms, and standing on a platform of ■: plank which was built inside the palisade, I saw about 70 Indians in war paint, and armed with guns, hatchets, and knives. John Henderson Came running out, half-dressed, and when he saw the aspect of affairs he took it much cooler than I should have expected. " You're right, James," was all he said. An i Indian woman came forward and made signs ! of parleying, and she and John conferred , through a loop-hole, but I did not hear what passed. Presently she went back. "Did they offer any terms ? " inquired James. i " Terms be - — ," replied his brother ; "we must fight now as long as we can." When the Indian woman got back to the men, they set up a war whoop and came on at a run. Then we began to pick them off, and our firing rather astonished them, as they had expected to find us almost witnout ammunition. The child Polly came out at the report. She did not seem very frightened, or she didn't show it. Her father called her ' and made her load for him. We had twelve or fourteen rifles, some double-barrelled. i She could load as fast as any of us, but I ■ never saw her fire. The Hendersons were i strong, determined men, and terrible shots ; I don't think either of them wasted a bullet. : We had no escape. I don't know whether we could have crossed the river above the ' rapids in a canoe if we had had one, which we hadn't. The Indians came within thirty yards of the palisade ; then they broke and i retreated to the dry trench, where they were under cover. Then we had a little breathing : time, and we got all our pieces loaded again. ; Henderson, whose ears were keener than thoso of any savage, heard the sweep of a paddle in the rear. We ran round and found five savages trying to land and climb the palisade from a canoe in which they had kept under the bank. I jumped on the platform i and emptied two revolvers, twelve shots, among the five, and killed two dead and crippled the rest. One stood up and tried to paddle clear, but he got into the swirl of the rapids, and was carried away and drowned. If the enemy had made an attack at that moment with their whole force, they must have carried the place, but they couldn't see what was going on at the back from where they were. The Little Bear took good cart of his own hide, for he was never forward in the first attack, and in the second he never showed at all. A young brave whom we called Tom, and who was said to have white blood in him, led on about twenty of the i savages in a very determined manner. We shot several of them, but they came on to the fence, and tried to climb over it. Johnson, a reckless, daring young fellow, ran round the enclosure to the river side. Stooping below the loopholes, he made a spring, and, catching the top of the palisade, swung himself up till he could throw one leg over. Another In- i dian handed him a gun, and he fired at j , James Henderson, who was nearest to him. I

■ * — ' -*■' ' ■ I M II James turned and shot him dead, upon which his companions ran back to the trench, leaving several dead and dying on the ground, John shot down two in the retreat, emptying his last charges. Our ammunition had been placed ready for instant use in two open wooden boxes. I was stooping to load one of the pieces, when I found the box nearest me had been emptied, and going to search the other, I was startled by a cry from Polly. I turned my head, and saw the younger Henderson leaning against the fence, holding his side, with a face that grew whiter every instant. I ran to him, but he fell before I reached him. His brother was at his side the next moment. He had been struck below the left armpit, by the half-blood's bullet, probably, and mortally hurt, both lungs being perforated. When we raised him he made signs for water. Polly ran into the house and brought some, and after a long draught James beckoned to his brother, who knelt beside him. I heard the words which were jerked out painfully through bubbles of bloody froth : " Our — ammunition— is done. John, don't let Polly be taken alive." John nodded, and grasped his hand. Then he said something to the child, who again entered the building, the roof of which was now catching fire, some arrows with flaming flax wrapt round them having been shot from the trench. We placed the dying man against the fencs, and searched the ammunition boxes ; there was a little powder in one, but not a single bullet. Henderson found a revolver with one chamber loaded. Polly had rejoined us with a flask of spirits— rum, if I remember rightly. John held it to his brother's lips, but the latter shook his head feebly ; then he offered it to me, and I refused ; then he put the flask to his mouth and nearly emptied it. He said " Come here, Polly ; this has to be done, and it's no use putting it off." The child knew what he meant when he cocked the revolver opposite the loaded chamber. She only said, " Oh, father ! " once, and gave him both her hands, looking straight into his face with her large eyes wide open. He said, " Shut your eyes, girl ! " and put the muzzle to her forehead. I struck up the barrel, and it exploded harmlessly. "Stop, you fool," I cried. " She may be saved now. Take my horse, and put her up behind you ; you can escape by the river. You can't swim across, but you can drift under the bank to the first landing-place ; then take to the woods. They'll see you, and fire, but the chances are they'll miss." He replied, " Get your horse, quick ; I never thought of that." I soon brought the Jaguar out saddled and bridled. By this time the savages had been reinforced by about 40 of the hunting party, who it seems had returned. " Now," said John, " you're lighter than me, and a better rider ; you must take the child. Before I trust her to you, you must swear that she shan't be taken alive if you can help it." He was loading a small single-barrelled pistol with the remaining powder. I swore as he required. We had no lead, and there were no pebbles in the yard. Henderson gave me a bullet mould, saying, " Draw one of my teeth." I tried, awkwardly enough, and failed. Polly said, "Take one of mine, father," and (here Thurstan coughed huskily) he did it, and finished loading. Then I mounted my horse, and he fastened the child behind me, waist to waist, with his belt and a stirrup leather. He said, " Remember your promise, and don't you be taken alive either, if you take my advice ; " and he gave me the pistol and opened the river gate. The Jaguar slid quietly into the dark swelling water, and I saw no more of the Hendersons. Their scalps were hanging at Little Bear's girdle half-an-hour afterwards, but neither of them were taken alive, I'm sure. The river was clear, but an alligator could hardly have swam across so close to the rapids, and it was half a mile wide. My horse struck out well, heading down the stream close to the bank. There was a shelf of sand not 60 yards down, where canoes were sometimes kept. Here we landed without difficulty, just as the Indians on our left were advancing to the building, the roof of which was now all in flames. They ran, and shouted, and fired. We were broadside on to them for a little way rounding a patch of reeds, then we turned our backs to them. The Jaguar gave a snort and a plunge, but never-slack-ened speed, and the child clung closer, with a slight sob. I didn't think either of them were hurt to speak of. In a few strides we were out of their reach, and I never drew bridle for 30 miles, when we reached a small stream not far from the edge of the prairie. There we halted, and I found that the girl had been shot through the foot and couldn't stand. I bandaged the broken bones as carefully as I could, and while I was doing this the Jaguar went into the stream, and plunging his head up to the eyes in the water, drank till I thought he'd burst himself. When he came out he just fell dead; a bullet had entered his flank, and he had been bleeding internally all through that desperate gallop. I carried the child about five miles up the stream, wbich diverged into three or four channels, and, to baffle the tracks, walked knee-deep most of the way. I knew the Indians would get their horses and 'follow, though but for that unlucky shot they would never have come near us. Perhaps they saw tracks of blood as they rode; certainly when when they found the dead horse they would redouble their search. I left the stream. at last, and found a good hiding place, and in the night I struck the prairie, and walked about 30 miles, carrying the' child all the way. She couldn't put hor foot to the ground, of course. So I travelled on, walking day and night with my burden in the direction of the Pipestone Quarry; but it was a long journey, and we . had no water after we left the stream on tiie verge of the forest. On the third evening we reached a sandhill, called the Bison's Back, where a well was, but it was quite dry. The summer had been unusually hot, and we had had a long drought —a rare thing in those parts. I waa in hopes of finding a Uttie water next day, at a small lagoon; but I waa disappointed again. The

- :" m gsasssaeaa child had- never complained, and even then jseemedinlgood spirits,' but v she - sobbed in^her jsleep a good deal that night. What's the nse jof talking about, it, .I__made the Pipestone 'Hills on the fifth morning, somehow or other, or I shouldn't be here to tell the tale (Thurstan stopped suddenly, and M'Phersta asked some question, but he went on as if he hadn't heard it). I reached the first hillock a little after daylight, I had. only two miles to go then, but I felt her getting chilly in my arms'. At a clump of tall trcesin sight of the station I tried to rouse her up. I said, « Wake up, Polly; we're all right now," and shook her. No use. (Thurstan paused again, and his face twitched nervously.) There, you know it all now (he continued.) I remember bur fellows crowding around me, and, ah God; you should have seen their faces when they found out what I was carrying. I say, Mac, old fellow, I shall have the horrors if I dream of that again. M Pherson took a bottle of whiskey from a box, and put it on the table. " Thank you for your story, Ned," he said, "and help yourself; that's good, you'll find." Thurstan certainly did help himself rather bountifully, and adding water more sparingly, drank his dose with evident relish. Ah, well (he added) we had a great revenge; it wa3 worth living for. When Polly was laid out, Ramsay cut off some of her hair^ aad divided it with Marsh, Burton, and Conolly, and they all swore to have an Indian scalp for every separate hair they kept. I don't know that they all kept their oaths/ but they went a3 near it as they could. We musr tered pretty strong at the Quarry Station, and some of our boys wee awkward customers when their blood was up. Ah,by heaven, but we had a great revenge. There was a queer old fellow among us, a. New Englander, Long Potter, or Parson Potter we called him, half Quaker, half Methodist. He was a terrible fellow among the buffaloes, and had tackled a grizzly single-handed, but he was always preaching forbearance and forgiveness of injuries towards the poor Indians!. However, he had lived with the Henderson*, and was very fond of poor Polly. At the child's i funeral, Hamsay turned to him and said, " Now, old man, will you say « Venr geance is mine, saith the Lord ?' and Potter replied, " No, by God, I won't. If you are to be instruments of wrath, work your will in God's name." Then he turned away and burst out crying, and some more of the men were nearly as bad. Now, I'll turn in, for, mark you, we must be up at the first grey streak to-morrow;. I shall sleep sound, I think; so let the first man call me." We were all soon in bed. I gave up my berth to Thurstan, and slept in the store on; a shakedown; but I slept ill, and was up long before daylight. Strolling outside, I saw Norman smoking his pipe, and we chatted td pass the time. Norman remarked, "That story was not exaggerated in the least. I never heard it before; but, whatever faults Thurstan has, he never draws the long-bow. I believe every word of it." (If I have made this tale sound strained or sensational, the fault lies with me; for as I and others heard it that night, there was an air of simple truth, and even of feeling, about it that carried conviction.) I w«nt to call the others in tho overseer's hut at the earliest dawn, and found M'Pherson already up; but Thurstan was sleeping like a child, and was not easily awakened. Think--1 ing afterwards over these things, and the events that were doomed to take place* in a few hours, I can only express a hope similafe to that expressed by one of the greatest of modern poets— " That after last returns the first, That what began best can't end worst, / Nor what God once blest prove accurst." '