Prisoners of Chance

It has lingered a unique memory of those days, the outward carelessness with which we chattered away during that strange meal. Surely no company of wanderers was ever in more desperate stress than we at that moment. It was the merest chance of fate if one among us all lived to see the peaceful setting of the sun, now blazing high overhead. Yet that simple noonday repast, partaken of beneath the shadow of the overhanging rock, remains in memory as more redundant with merriment of tongue and face than any since we made departure from New Orleans. Were I not writing truthful narrative, I might hesitate at setting this down, yet there are doubtless others living to bear witness with me that there is often experienced an odd relief in discovering the presence of actual danger; that uncertainty and mystery try most severely the temper of men.

It certainly proved so with us that day, and De Noyan's high spirits found echo even in the grim Puritan, who, being at last convinced that he was not called upon to wrestle with demons from the pit, was as full of manly fight as the best of us. Eloise added her gentle speech, while even I relaxed my anxiety, though I was careful enough to select a seat from which I could keep watch both up and down the ravine, convinced that our time of trial was not far away. In consequence of this chosen vantage of position I was the first to note those stealthy nude figures silently stealing from rock to rock, like so many flitting shadows, making their way down toward our position from the north. How they attained entrance to the gorge I could not conjecture; my eyes first detected their movement when their leaders stole noiselessly as phantoms about the great shelf of rock higher up the gorge. More than this fleeting glimpse I was unable to perceive from where I sat, our rude rampart somewhat obstructing the view, nor did I call the attention of the others to their approach. Nothing could be gained by exposing ourselves before need arose. Indeed, De Noyan chanced to observe their presence before I ventured upon speech at all.

"Ha, my masters!" he exclaimed suddenly, rising to peer above the low breastworks. "What have we here? By my soul, the ball is about to open, gentlemen; the enemy creeps forward as though uncertain of our whereabouts, yet hardly as if greatly fearing our numbers. What do you make of the fellows, Master Benteen?"

"Beyond doubt savages, but not of any tribe within my knowledge."

"Saint Denis! nor mine," he acknowledged gravely, staring at them. "At this distance they seem to be of strangely whitish skin, and I am not over pleased with their mode of advance; it has the steadiness of a drilled column, such as I never before witnessed in Indian campaign. Sacre! note yonder how that tall fellow on the right guides them with his gestures. They take intervals as firmly as French grenadiers. Eloise," he turned hastily toward his wife, more tenderness in his manner than I had ever before remarked, "it is going to be a hard battle, or I mistake greatly the temper of yonder warriors. Take this pistol; it is all I have of the kind. I will trust my fortune on the blade. You know how best to use it should things go wrong with us at the front."