The Ferguson Rifle

"Surrender at once or we'll kill you all!" I smiled at him, then glanced at Kemble and Talley. "Forty? The number won't divide evenly, Kemble, so I guess it will be first come, first served." "I'll get my share," Ebitt said.

Fernandez turned abruptly and strode to his horse. The others had said nothing, but as he turned to go, one of them lifted a pistol.

"I wouldn't," Heath warned, his rifle on its target. "I just wouldn't at all." The pistol was lowered, slowly, carefully. Then they rode away into the darkness.

"I hate to leave such a good camp," I said.

"Leave it? You don't figure on ru

"No, I don't. Right yonder"--I pointed back of us--"ab forty yards back there's a few big, old cottonwood deadfalls. They fell just right for a breastwork. I ran upon it while I was gathering firewood.

"There're several living trees, and there's room inside for ourselves and our horses, a kind of natural fort. I think it might be wise to leave our fire burning and just pull back." We did just that, and at the lower end of our natural redoubt, we found the ground fell away slightly in an area where the thick branches of two trees met. There was room enough to hide our horses there, out of sight and safe from stray bullets. In a matter of minutes, we had moved, added fresh fuel to our fire, and settled down behind our breastwork.

"Better get some sleep," Talley advised. "I'll stand watch." The advice was good and we accepted it, stretching out on the ground. It was thickly bedded with leaves from the fallen trees and those that leaned above us, and we were soon asleep.

Just before I fell finally asleep, I heard Ebitt saying to Kemble, "I never knowed all that about treaties and such. I heard about the purchase ... that's why I left Illinois to come west.

How'd he know all that?" "Comes of being a scholar," Kemble said.

And we all went to sleep.

CHAPTER 5

Awakening in the chill of the hour before dawn, I lay quite still looking up at the stars. At this hour, the sky seems u

The mind that is geared to learning, that is endlessly curious, ca

To many the grasslands over which we had been riding were simply that, but for me there was much to see, much to learn. No doubt the Indian knew all I was learning, and accepted it as a simple facet of his world.

The tall grass we had left needed moisture, and no doubt during dry years it fell back toward the east with its rivers and its greater rainfall. Then the low-growing grasses invaded, took over, and retained a hold on the earth until once more the wet years brought back the tall bluestem and its companions of the soil.

The buffalo grazed wherever there was grass, into Georgia, Pe

A whisper snapped me to attention. It was, Shanagan. "I believe we're to have comp'ny," he said softly.

Rolling out, I swiftly brought my blankets together, tied them into a neat bundle, and took them to my saddle. My Ferguson was under my arm, but I hastily completed dressing by pulling on my boots and hitching my knife into xs proper place.

Our fire had burned low. I could see the red glow of the coals lying just over there. Around me there were furtive stirrings as the others took their places.

Yet when it came we were startled, for they came with a rush and wild warwhoops intended to frighten and demoralize. That such an attack out of the night would have that effect was beyond question, for ready as we were, it was a shock to hear them.

They rushed into the camp, and as one man, we fired. At least two Indians dropped. I think there were more, but in the vague light and with surrounding trees and brush, it was difficult to see.

My own rifle was almost instantly loaded, yet I held my fire a moment to give the others a start on reloading, not wanting all to be empty at once. Shanagan fired his pistol, and then I fired and instantly reloaded... and then there were no targets.

The attackers had vanished as swiftly as they had come.

A body or two lay sprawled near our fire, but that was all, and there was no sound.

The sky was turning gray, with a faint touch of lemon light along the eastern horizon, and far above us a wisp of cloud blushed faintly.

We waited behind our fallen timber, watching the light grow. Slowly the blackness took on shape and form, the shapes became trees, bushes, and rocks, and on the ground a dead Indian. From under the bushes, I saw the feet of another.

Still we waited, and as the light grew, we could see the plain was empty of life. At last Degory Kemble came out from the redoubt and went to the nearest of the fallen Indians.

"Ute," he said. "This is far north for them.

Mostly they're mountain Indians." "From Spanish country?" I asked.

"They claim it, but so did the French. I figure it for Louisiana Territory. The border should be south of there." "It will need some time to decide that," I said.

"And meanwhile?" "We'll hunt there, and trap for beaver, although it would be better for all of us if we could establish relations with Santa Fe. They need the trade and so do we." "They're a long way from Mexico City," Talley agreed. "Saint Louis is closer." One by one we emerged and scouted our small patch of woods. No Indians were left. We found a spot of blood or two that seemed to indicate a wound, and a dropped rifle of Spanish make. One of the dead Indians had an old musket; the other had been armed with a bow and arrows.

We wasted no time, but packed our horses and moved out, leaving the Indians as they were. Bob Sandy took the scalps for himself. Talley rode point, Kemble twenty yards to the left, and I an equal distance to the right. Ebitt and Sandy followed Kemble and me at about ten yards' distance, with Heath and Shanagan to bring up the rear.

We presented no good target, yet had a chance to scout the country as we rode. We started at a walk, moving to a trot after a few hundred yards, holding it for some distance.

Except for my own, our horses were prairie-bred mustangs and they held the pace easily. My horse was of better breed but lacked the staying quality of the once wild horses, and was accustomed to better feed.

It was obvious that my horse must adjust to the change in diet and traveling conditions or I must find another one. In time, if allowed to run free, he might fit himself to the country ... as I must do also.

Physically my condition had never been bad, and my muscles and skin were hardening to the work. Mentally it was another story. I had fought when attacked, acquitting myself well, and I believe those with whom I traveled believed me adequate for the journey before us. Such was not the case.

As a matter of fact, I had no stomach for killing. I considered myself a reasonably civilized man, and killing was wrong. Nor did I decide this by simple biblical standards, for the Bible, Hebrew scholars had assured me, did not say, "Thou shalt not kill," but strictly interpreted it says, "Thou shalt not commit murder," which is quite another thing.

Yet it was not the Mosaic law that guided me, but my own intelligence. I had no right to deprive another human being of his life, nor had I the intention of adding to the violence that was around me. On the other hand, the Indians I had killed would surely have killed me had I not been more fortunate than they.