The Boy Patrol on Guard

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

  CHAPTER XVII--An "Injin" Story

  The doctor and his little daughter stood at the landing, the motherremaining at the house, and watched the canoe as it put out from theshore and headed toward the bungalow on the other side of the lake. Thefact that the boys had to sit facing the other way did not prevent themfrom turning their heads several times and waving a hand or paddle inresponse to the good-bye greeting of Sunbeam. Mike having no paddling todo indulged in the exchange much more than his companions.

  By and by the girl at the request of her father ran to the house andbrought back his powerful telescope, which he pointed at the boat.Unaware of this, and carrying no binoculars, the lads did not know howdistinctly they remained in the field of vision of their friends andnaturally the signalling between the parties stopped.

  The clearing of the skies proved only temporary and our young friendshad not paddled half the distance when they saw they were in for awetting. A cold, drizzling rain set in and was steadily falling whenthey drew the canoe up the bank and hurried into the building, whoseshelter was most welcome. The other Boy Scouts, who had been taughtconsiderable in the way of reading weather signs, had made haste toreturn from their wanderings, none being so far off that he did not getback in time.

  Of course even had the party been camping out of doors, they would havebeen well guarded against so disagreeable a change, but they were bettershielded with so roomy a structure at their command. They preparedsupper in the big fireplace, and found the warmth of the crackling logsvery acceptable. Everything having been adjusted for the night, severalof the troop straightway notified Scout Master Hall that, inasmuch as hehad shifted the responsibility of telling a good story upon Uncle Elk,he could do so no longer, but must now "come down" with one of his best.The demand quickly became unanimous, and the good-natured leader saw noway for him to escape.

  There was equal unanimity that the story should be an "Injin" one, foryou know boys will never lose their fondness for that kind of yarn andMr. Hall also conceded the point.

  "Due mainly to the fact that I don't see any way of dodging it. AnIndian or adventure story, to be fully enjoyed, should be told round acamp fire in the depth of the woods; but as that is impracticalto-night, let us imagine that the blazing hickory there is kindled milesfrom anything resembling a human habitation.

  "You know how prone every one is to declare some incident 'funny,' whenhe should say it is strange or remarkable. I heard a woman at home theother day say that 'it was the funniest thing in the world' that she hadto attend three funerals in a single week. All the same, there issomething funny in your request, for I was about to ask whether you hadany objections to my switching off from the usual run of yarns andtelling one about Indians."

  He looked into the glowing faces. It was Mike Murphy who gravelyreplied:

  "I'm sorry to say, Scout Master, I have a sorrerful 'bjection to yourtelling us such a yarn."

  "What is that?"

  "My 'bjection is to the wurrad 'one'; I move to amind the same by sayingye shall relate eliven of 'em before ye puts the brake on. The firstInjin I obsarved in this country was a wooden one in front of a cigarstore in Boston town; I tried to open a playsant conversation with him,but he was as glum as Chester or Alvin after I've run 'em a fut race."

  Inasmuch as Mike's legs were so short that there wasn't a boy in campwho could not leave him far behind in a contest of speed, a generalsmile followed his sober words.

  "Last spring," began Scout Master Hall, "I made a trip to Denver,Colorado, and took a run down to Trinidad, in the southern part of theState. While there I noticed a handsome monument surmounting one of thehills surrounding the city. The rocky point is known as 'Simpson'sRest,' and the story connected with it is one of the most extraordinaryof the many that marked the early days of that region. Bear in mind, myyoung friends, that that which I tell you is true in every particular.There is no need of my relating fiction, when fact is much moreinteresting.

  "It is now more than sixty years since John Simpson built a cabin on thepresent site of Trinidad, which was then on the old Santa Fe trail.Times without number he sat in his little front door, smoking his pipeand watching the strings of prairie schooners that passed on their wayto or from Santa Fe. The trail makes a sharp turn to the south not farfrom where the Simpson cabin stood, and after climbing the precipitousRaton Mountains, on what is now the Colorado line, the gold huntersfound themselves at the door of their El Dorado.

  "Simpson was one of the greatest hunters, trappers and Indian fightersof his day. He and the renowned Kit Carson, who was the guide of Fremontthe explorer, were intimate comrades and had many thrilling adventurestogether. In the days of which I speak, the Ute and Cheyenne Indians hadtheir hunting grounds in the foothills adjoining the Rockies, and didnot as a rule harass the settlers. But Simpson could never be quite easyregarding them, for his long experience with red men warned him alwaysto be on the alert, though for several years his family suffered nodisturbance during his absences, which were sometimes extended forweeks.

  "In the month of May, 1855, Simpson came back from one of his huntingexpeditions. He hurried his return, for he had heard that the Utes andCheyennes were on the war path and he knew his home would be one of thefirst to receive attention. He hoped that his presence and reputation asa dangerous Indian fighter would keep the redskins from molesting him.

  "He had two children, Bob aged fifteen and Nora two years younger. Theywere bright, affectionate and as fond of each other as of their parents.On this morning in spring the brother and sister started to go to asmall stream of water which ran near their cabin. They had not reachedit when they were startled to see a party of dusky horsemen gallopingtoward them at a terrific pace. The riders brandished their lances andfilled the air with shouts. They were still a considerable distanceaway, and the children were more astonished than alarmed.

  "While staring at the party, they heard the shout of their father, andturning their heads, saw him running toward them, rifle in hand, andbeckoning to them to hurry to the house. You may be sure they lost notime in obeying, while he with loaded weapon confronted the duskyhorsemen. I suppose there must have been near a score of them, but everybuck of the crowd knew the white man was a dead shot and never shrankfrom a fight, no matter how desperate, and they hesitated.

  "You may set it down as a fact that no matter how numerous a band ofIndians may be, when they are morally certain that the first two orthree to rush forward will be shot down, those two or three will nevermake such a rush. You have read in your history of colonial days, of Mr.Dunston of New Hampshire, who stood off a party of marauding Indianssimply by threatening to shoot the foremost, until his children madetheir escape. Something of the kind happened in the case of Simpson. Ashe walked slowly backward, he held his deadly rifle grasped with bothhands, and ready to raise and fire on the instant needed. He never onceremoved his keen gaze and his enemies did not even fire at him. Theyyearned to do so, but dared not take the fearful risk.

  "When Simpson reached his cabin, he found his terrified wife andchildren making ready to leave. He told them the Indians had massacredseveral families on the Arkansas River, they would soon be joined bymore warriors, and it was impossible to defend the place against theirenemies. Their only hope was to reach the top of a hill near the house.There they would have the advantage of a naturally strong defense, andmight be able to hold off the redskins until help came to the whites.

  "Two burros were hastily loaded with provisions and a keg of water, andSimpson stowed about him all the ammunition he possessed. This took buta few minutes, during which the redskins galloped back and forth andhovered in the neighborhood, eager to attack and yet afraid to do so.

  "'Off with you,' he said to his wife and children, 'go as fast as youcan and I'll stand 'em off till you're at the top of the hill.'

  "He used the same maneuver as before and the whole party safely reachedthe refuge. Nothing better intended for defense can be imagined. Thesummit of the hill is f
lat and surrounded by a high rocky wall. The onlyway to reach the top is by means of a single narrow, stony path. It mademe pant to climb it last spring, and I wondered how those burrossucceeded with their heavy burdens; but you know they are used to suchwork and no doubt did as well as the defenders of the natural fort. Atany rate, all, including the burros, reached the refuge and were quicklyjoined by Simpson, who had held the Indians at bay. So long as he wasunhurt and his ammunition lasted, he could defend that pass againstdouble the number that had attacked him.

  "It proved just as he said it would, for they had been only a fewminutes on the flat surface of the hill when the second party to whichSimpson had referred were seen approaching in the distance, shouting andbrandishing their spears and as eager to attack the whites as the othershad been.

  "'We're in for it,' said the father grimly, as he scanned the new partyof horsemen, 'but they haven't caught us yet.'

  "The fortress of the little company could not have been better had itbeen constructed by a party of army engineers. The Indians may havebelieved they would be able to rush the defenders, but it would bedesperate work. Several of them, led by their chief, clambered up thenarrow, rocky passage as if they meant to make a friendly call. Standingat the top, loaded rifle in hand, Simpson waited until they had comequite near when he shouted to them to halt. The leader, who could speakEnglish, urged the white man to surrender, assuring him that no harmshould be done to him or his family. Such treachery is common on thepart of Indians, who are quick to violate their most solemn pledge themoment they can gain the chance. Simpson was too much of a veteran to bedeceived by so simple a ruse. Pointing his weapon at the chief, hecalled:

  "'Get, or I'll shoot!'

  "The whole band made a rush down the path, tumbling over on another,each fearful of being winged by the terrible white man above. They wereaflame with rage, and gathering at the bottom of the hill madepreparations to overwhelm the brave defenders by a resistlesscharge,--something which they would not have done except for thehumiliation that had just been put upon them.

  "You may be sure that Simpson did not remain idle or throw away anyprecautions. With wife and children helping, he rolled several bouldersto the head of the path, and held them poised until the warriors werequite near. Then the huge masses of stone were rolled over and wentbounding and crashing among the yelling bucks who were scattered rightand left, with several badly hurt and one or two picked off by thepioneer with his rifle. He fired as fast as he could aim and reload, andrepulsed the hostiles so decisively that they did not again try to stormthe fort.

  "One recourse remained to them: that was to reduce the fort by regularsiege. It was clear that the garrison dare not come out of the defenses,and sooner or later their provisions would be eaten. Starvation is a foeagainst which no bravery can avail. All the Indians had to do was towait until the food was gone and they were brought to the lastextremity."

  "What about water?" asked one of the boys.

  "It is harder to bear thirst than hunger, and yet it may be said thatour friends never suffered that torture. Before the keg was exhaustedseveral showers of rain fell. The tops of the rocks which formed thewall had quite a number of depressions and cavities which held a goodlyquantity of the precious fluid. The besieged were devoutly thankful forthis mercy. The matter of food, however, was different. There could beno renewing of that, but, as I told you, they had brought considerablewith them. This was doled out, each content with what the head of thefamily gave her or him, especially when they saw that he ate less thanany one of them.

  "As the stress tightened, Simpson shot one of the burros and theyfeasted upon his raw flesh, since there was no way of kindling a fire.In due time the second animal followed the first, he forming the lastreserve. Two burros can be made to last four persons a long while, iftheir flesh is sparingly used, and the family underwent no real hungeruntil at the last.

  "I doubt whether the history of the West contains so strange an episodeas that of the siege of John Simpson, his wife and two children. Theytook turns in keeping watch, for the red man is subtle by nature andthey could be counted upon to test thoroughly the vigilance of thelittle company. More than once several of the Utes or Cheyennes stole asnoiselessly as shadows up the flinty path, but before they could do anyharm the crack of the deadly rifle sent them skurrying to the bottom.Simpson always stood guard through the night, for he knew that was thetime of greatest peril. He gained the needed sleep during the day, whenhis wife and children could act as sentinels and if necessary rouse himfrom slumber. Sometimes, by way of variety he exchanged shots with thebesiegers below, and they quickly learned the wisdom of keeping out ofrange of the white man who had a way of always hitting that at which heaimed his rifle.

  "That remarkable siege lasted for five weeks. By that time, despite theparsimony in the use of food, not a particle remained. All the Indianshad to do was to wait until the family fell like ripe fruit into theirgrasp. Simpson said little and never once hinted at the dreadful fatewhich impended. Nor did any one speak of it, for the fearful theme wasin all their thoughts and there was no need of doing so.

  "It was near the end of the fifth week, that the besieging red mensuddenly grouped their ponies together and with shrill cries dashed offat full speed. They had seen the approach of a troop of cavalry fromFort Lyon, a hundred and fifty miles distant, and very much preferredtheir room to their company. Simpson and his family were rescued andto-day you will find quite a number of their descendants living nearTrinidad. The hero certainly deserved the tribute of the pretty monumentthat has been built upon that memorable spot.

  "Such is my 'Injin' story," added Scout Master Hall with a smile; "I canclaim two merits for it: it is true and it has a pleasant ending, but Iam compelled to add one unpleasant fact. The monument has been sodefaced and mutilated by relic hunters that it is ruined. One person hashad the unspeakable cheek to daub his sprawling initials with a paintbrush all over the tomb, earning for himself a reputation that no oneenvies."