Great Western Indian Fights by Members of the Potomac Corral of the Westerners

Author:Members of the Potomac Corral of the Westerners [Westerners, Members of the Potomac Corral of the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Criminals & Outlaws, Rich & Famous, Social Science, Ethnic Studies, Native American Studies, History, United States, 19th Century
ISBN: 9781787203952
Google: El4SDgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Pickle Partners Publishing
Published: 2017-02-07T02:38:47+00:00

The restless Forsyth and one of the guards, spying movement along the faint horizon, had barely time to fire their weapons and shout, “Indians! Turn out!” as screaming riders loomed up and dashed through the herd, driving away two horses and a couple of the pack mules. Startled men grabbed their carbines and leaped to gather in the horses. Sandy Forsyth cussed out the two sleepyheads who had neglected to fasten properly their now-missing mounts and snapped the order to saddle up. In the meantime the big war party had arisen and moved out. From a distance of two or three miles the lead warriors saw the scouts’ camp. The mass of Indians whipped up their ponies and, taking a very wide front, rode fast.

In the growing light Grover and others saw the red avalanche while it was still a considerable distance away and yelled the alarm. To the scouts, then standing by their horses or making coffee, the Indian onslaught was an appalling spectacle. Grover hurried to point out to Forsyth the advantages offered by the island. There they could take concealment and dig for cover while the redskins must move exposed over the river bed to finally close. On the major’s orders the scouts, dragging their horses, legged it pell-mell, “like a flock of scared quail,” to the island. Forsyth, concerned that the precious reserve ammunition be brought over safe, was among the last to cross. A stout two or three, Jack Stillwell among them, did not cross at this time but lay hidden in the tall grass under the river bank, anticipating good shooting.

On the island Forsyth tried hurriedly to organize a defense. Assisted by Lieutenant Beecher and other clear heads, he got most of the dazed men to tie their plunging, frightened animals in a rough circle and to take concealment inside. In the nick of time some of the scouts opened up with their Spencers, firing from beneath the horses. The Indians, now very near, had expected to swarm right over the white men, but in the face of the shots already whistling from the island their courage wavered. The terrifying charge split, thundering by the island on either side, although a few daredevils did hurl their ponies straight through the midst of the scouts. Now some of the warriors scurried on foot to take positions along both sides of the river. There they launched their arrows and fired their comparatively few guns at the island, where some of the white men could still be seen standing erect, with all their horses in plain view. Many other warriors remained mounted, circling outside of short rifle range but sometimes dashing in close.

Most of the scouts worked their carbines as fast as they could while the red men’s fire raked their refuge. Now and then one slumped bleeding to the sand; some struggled up to keep on shooting. Two or three sprawled face down in the sand, shivering, and deaf to Forsyth and Beecher profanity. Horses, screaming and thrashing about with their wounds, were dropping fast.

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