Page:The Overland Monthly, Jan-June 1894.djvu/242

178 revolver up to her breast, while little Jim clung in terror to her dress; then the boy found himself in under the rushing mass of trampling feet, choked with dust. He clutched and caught hold of something above him, and pulled himself partly up, to find that he was clinging to the heel of a mounted Indian, one of the last to pass. The dust was so thick that the Indian did not see the boy,—else this story had never been told. On rushed the wild mass in a perfect cloud of dust and smoke. Jim realized that off to his left was the river, so blindly under the dust he groped his way, till he came to the bank.

Down this and along it he ran, the war-whoop and the awful rush and clatter ringing in his ears. He ran until he gave out, and crawled or fell into a briar clump, where he lay thinking himself the only one saved, and wondering what to do; for he expected the Indians to come after him, and even heard them distinctly. He knew the train must come near this bank, so he lay and waited. Now he did hear, unmistakably this time, some one tramping on his track, close to the clump in which he lay. He peered out and saw John Sperry, perfectly wild with fright, holding in one hand a cocked derringer.

"John! John!" he called.

John stopped short, looking around to see where the voice came from, and the little boy crept out from the briars. Each told the other how he had escaped, and John said that he had seen Grace shot. They now knew that they were all that were left. They climbed up the bank and espied the train, about a mile to the east. Thither they ran as fast as young, frightened legs could carry them.

Their tale caused the wildest excitement. All the young men hastened forward to the scene of the tragedy. The Captain, who had heard the shooting, and hurried back, reached the spot at the same time. They found Mrs. Clark, Grace, and Archie, thrown over the bank on the rocks below. Going down they found Archie dead, but the mother and daughter were still breathing. Mrs. Clark died that night; Grace, after months of suffering, recovered.

An odd incident was that the feather bed, containing $3,000 in twenty-dollar pieces, which had been in the bottom the carriage, was found to have been ripped open, the feathers emptied on on the ground, and the tick carried of while every piece of money was found lying untouched among the feathers.

The train now came up and made camp. Messengers were sent ahead the other train, which stopped and sent men back to join in pursuit of the Indians, and recover, if possible, the valuable horses. A party of about thirty-five took the trail. They crossed a waterless desert, and climbed a mountain, from the top of which they could look down into a beautiful valley, dotted all over with the tepees of Snake Indians. On the banks of the placid stream were grazing the fine American horses,—so near, and yet so far.

As the party showed itself on the summit it was greeted by a volley from the Indian pickets. A straggling running fight followed, and the attacking party was driven off, with one killed and two wounded. After a consultation they decided to take the back trail. They buried their dead comrade, and started back, carrying the wounded men on their horses. After a day on the road, one of the wounded men, Powell, who had been shot through the bowels, gave out completely. He knew that he must die in any case, and begged so piteously to be left that at last they made him comfortable as possible in a clump of trees, with a cup of water at hand, and bade him a long goodby. None of the party ever heard of him again. When they reached camp his brother was frantic with grief, and wanted some one to go with him to show him the place. After talking it over a long time no one