The Attack on the Camp.

It is the first thing that I can recollect, and comes back to me now dimly—­only as a dream.  My mother used to tell me of it, and often to laugh at me.  She said I was then about five or six years old.

I must have been playing with other little boys near the lodge, and the first thing that I remember is seeing people running to and fro, men jumping on their horses, and women gathering up their children.  I remember how the men called to each other, and that some were shouting the war cry; and then that they all rode away in the same direction.  My mother rushed out and caught me by the hand, and began to pull me toward the lodge, and then she stopped and in a shrill, sweet voice began to sing; and other women that were running about stopped too, and began to sing songs to encourage their husbands and brothers and sons to fight bravely; for enemies were attacking the camp.

I did not understand it at all, but I was excited and glad to hear the noise, and to see people rushing about.  Soon I could hear shooting at a distance.  Then presently I saw the men come riding back toward the camp; and saw the enemy following them down toward the lodges, and that there were many of these strangers, while our people were only a few.  But still my people kept stopping and turning and fighting.  Now the noise was louder.  The women sang their strong heart songs more shrilly, and I could hear more plainly the whoops of men, and the blowing of war whistles, and the reports of guns.

Presently one of our men fell off his horse.  The enemy charged forward in a body to touch him, and our few men rushed to meet them, to keep them from striking the fallen one, and from taking the head.  And now the women began to be frightened, and some of them ran away.  My mother rushed to the lodge, caught up my little sister, and threw her on her back, and holding me by the hand, ran toward the river.  By this time I was afraid, and I ran as hard as I could; but my legs were short and I could not keep up, even though my mother had a load on her back.  Nevertheless, she pulled me along.  Every little while I stumbled and lost my feet; but she dragged me on, and as she lifted me up, I caught my feet again, and ran on.

Before long I began to tire, and I remember that I wanted to stop.  In after years mother used to laugh at me about this, and say that I had asked her to throw away my sister, and to put me on her back and carry me instead.  She used to say, too, that if she had been obliged to throw away either child I should have been the one left behind, for as I was a boy, and would grow up to be a warrior, and to fight the enemies of our tribe, I might very likely be killed anyway, and it might as well be earlier as later.

When we reached the river, my mother threw herself into it.  Usually it was not more than knee-deep, but at this time the water was high from the spring floods, and my mother had to swim, holding my sister on her back, and at the same time supporting me, for though I could swim a little, I was not strong enough to breast the current, and without help would have been carried away.