Bushy

The wagons were again turned into means of protection. Indians are cowardly and not good riflemen, as a general thing, and when the soldiers with their deadly aim picked off every red man that showed himself, the others quieted down and no doubt wished they were safe out of the fight.

“Bushy, you and Rover crawl under the bedding and lie down flat,” cried Mr. Sukolt. He piled about her the three hams and several great pieces of bacon that had been brought along to be eaten on the trip.

Bushy could not see out on the side where the Indians were. It was growing dark and the fight being in a little grove of trees the red men concluded to take advantage and crawl stealthily, tomahawk in hand, upon the enemy.

Bushy, from her elevated position in the wagon, was almost on a level with the heads of the redskins, as they rose to flourish the tomahawk.

“I’ll lie down flat,” said Bushy to herself, “and be ready to fire if any Indian comes on my side of the wagon.”

She had no more than settled well down into a comfortable position when she saw the headdress of a redskin bobbing up and down in the tall grass close to the wagon tongue. Without any ado whatever she fired and laid him low. With a yell that was appalling, another Indian rose out of the grass and made an attempt to drag away the dead man, but Bushy fired again, and he, too, fell and rolled out of sight in the darkness.

“Bravo!” cried the soldiers.

“That’s two for me,” said Bushy, softly to herself.

The soldiers continued fighting, determined on the destruction of the few Indians that remained, when suddenly Bushy heard an anxious cry for powder. “I am out of powder!” cried Tom. “So am I, almost,” yelled Shanks from behind the nearest tree. “Here take my can,” called Mr. Sukolt, as he crawled through the grass and divided with the boys.

“I know where there is more,” thought Bushy, and scrambling from under the hams and sides of bacon, she immediately proceeded to open the box and fill her skirt with as much as she could carry.

“I’ll slip along down and furnish the men with all they want,” said Bushy.

She crawled from under the wagon-cover and fell, with a soft thud, to the ground below.

“Here Tom; help yourself,” she said a minute later, as she nudged him on the elbow.

“Bless your heart, child! how did you get here? You must not run such risk,” but before he had finished talking she was off to Shanks, and after supplying him she started for her father who was hidden behind a bowlder on the left, but he sharply ordered her to drop the powder on the ground and climb again into the wagon.

Just then a dusky cloud settled over the trees, throwing the grove for a moment into complete darkness, and the captain of the soldiers called out:

“Everybody be on guard and draw near to the wagons. When all are in, make a grand rush and try to get out of this wood.”

Tom jumped to hitch the horses to the wagons, the soldiers kept guard, shooting at every move in the grass outside of their circle, nevertheless, two horses were killed and three soldiers wounded before Tom succeeded in making everything ready.

The three men were put tenderly into the freight wagon, as Tom called the second vehicle. Shanks suddenly called to them to “lay low.” They fell flat on the ground, and thus were saved from an arrow that came whizzing through the darkness.

“All aboard!” shouted Shanks, as he jumped to the wagon-seat, and taking the reins, declared he was ready to start.

“I killed that fellow,” said one of the soldiers, after shooting at a face that had gleamed at him through the still darkness. “I think he is the last of them.”

“Are we ready?” called out the captain. “If so, to the fort!”

Tom struck his horse a most cruel blow; the team bounded like mad down the road, followed closely by Shanks and his load of wounded men. The mounted soldiers dashed after them, each with loaded gun ready for the slightest sign of an Indian. On they went, never stopping until out of the woods and some distance into the valley.

“Bushy!” called Mr. Sukolt, and a loud bark from Rover proved him still under the pile of hams and bacon.

“Mr. Sukolt!” then called the captain, “I need your help here, one of my men has fainted.” Mr. Sukolt jumped out and helped the soldier into Shanks’s wagon. Tom had received a gash on his face that was setting him wild with pain. He drove madly on, dreading every minute that he, too, would fall helpless. To make matters worse, Jip suddenly broke the halter and ran back to the woods.

“Only one quarter of a mile more,” cried the captain; “let the pony go, no time to bother with him now,” and in a few minutes the wagons were hauled up before the fort. Tom fell staggering into the arms of an officer, which incident again distracted Mr. Sukolt’s attention from his child, and it was some minutes before he turned, half frightened by a sudden thought, and again called, “Bushy!”

There was no answer.

“Smothered under the hams, maybe,” said one of the soldiers, as he hurried with Mr. Sukolt to tear away the coverings and throw the smoked meat to the right and left.

Rover gave one yelp of joy when he heard his master’s voice, and bounded out, and down to the ground.

“Bushy!” called her father, throwing down the last ham and then making a hurried search through the bedding, and feeling of the quilts in the hammock. “Bushy! My God, boys, she is not here; she is gone!” He gave a gasp and fell into the outstretched arms of Shanks, who for two minutes had given up the search and stood with face whiter than death, dreading the time when Mr. Sukolt should realize that his daughter had been left behind.