A skating adventure

The first winter we spent at Camp Poplar River was full of interesting experiences; but there is one, connected with my favorite sport that has left an indelible impression on my memory.

Our camp was quite near the river, which afforded excellent opportunity for the sport. So I was in my element. About thirty yards away was ts the river. Beyond it we could see across the valley for miles. The barrenness of the country on the other side of the stream was only relieved by a few scattering bushes marking the course of a tributary stream that only had life in the wettest weather. The near bank of the river was higher ground for some distance, then it abruptly dropped to the level. On this projecting bluff was situated our little camp. Below was a clump of trees on the farther side of which the water wagon started to zigzag up the bluff to our camp. The river gently turned out just above the wooded patch, then swung back toward the camp, a few hundred yards below; and a mile and a half down stream, it emptied into the Missouri.

We had been at Poplar River only a short time and since our arrival, the conduct of the red men had changed considerably The uneasy feeling among the warriors finally. We came in spite of their protests and they had not received us with open arms. As time went on, the feeling of enmity had grown. They became more and more surly. Their every move seemed a veiled menace; they appeared to breathe treachery. The uneasy feeling among the warriors finally came to a head, and their anger and dislike was demonstrated by their sending us word, couched in no unmistakable language, to vacate the post within seven days.

We were so outnumbered, having but two small companies to their hundred or more, that we were practically helpless insomuch as we could not safely forbid them the camp, which theu overran at will, so it was found necessary to carry arms at all times. Even on their way to the sutler’s store, a few hundred yards distant, the Indian bucks sometimes lifted the coattails of passing officers and men, to ascertain whether or not they were armed. The time had come, since the attitude of the braves was so menacing, that it was not deemed safe for anyone to go out of hailing distance of the camp alone.

Now I was not in the least afraid to go around. In fact, I rather prided myself on having always gotten along famously with the Indians as I had learned their speaking language, and they had always been friendly with me. However, the very day previous to the one of which I speak, I took particular pains to be gracious and speak to an old warrior in the store. But for the first time in my experience, my cheery “how cola” ("hello friend") was grudgingly answered by a surly, guttural “how.” Nevertheless, that made little impression on me, and that morning I was making plans to go skating. I had already been out skating that winter and so was anticipating much pleasure. My husband did not skate so he gave me permission to go with a brother officer who was fond of the sport. He cautioned me however to go no further than the clump of trees at the foot of the cliff. “Not even,” he said, “ as far as the water wagon trail.”

It was a glorious December day. The ice was in perfect condition. A heavy fall of snow had covered everything with a solid sheet of white, but a keen wind had swept the glassy ice clean and made it doubly tempting. The air was intensely cold; a dry, crisp, cold that was invigorating to the mind as well as to the body.

After we had been out for some time, I became tired of traversing just the slip of ice that lay in plain view of the camp, and circling across the forty-foot river. So I laughingly told my escort that I was going down farther to seek new fields of adventure. He very seriously remonstrated with me, at which I became piqued.

“Why shouldn’t I go, if I want to?” I exclaimed.

“Well, your husband particularly advised you not to go down any farther.”

“But that was because he was afraid of the Indians annoying me; but you can see for yourself that there are none about. T would be ridiculous for me to restrict myself, when I see that there is no danger. My husband was only worried on that account.” I really saw no cause for alarm; and now since I had thought of it, was eager to go.

“I shall not the responsibility, for I do not approve of your going any farther,” the officer said.

“Oh, I will take the responsibility,” I answered promptly. So off I went, skimming along at a rapid pace, and reluctantly followed by my escort. I knew that I was fleeter than he on my skates, and so felt that further resistance on his part would be in vain.

The ice here was excellent, and like the proverbial fruit, this forbidden field seemed even better than that which had been advised.

I was swiftly nearing the trees on the left bank, and my friend was yet far behind, when my attention was attracted to the thin bushes on the opposite bank, at my right. I turned casually to look, as I came abreast of them, when, to my utter amazement, two Indians stood erect from behind the protecting shrubbery, with the effect of rising slowly from the bowels of the earth.

They were enveloped in long white blankets, over which each wore an outside covering of unbleached muslin. The blankets covered their heads, only allowing a small oval of their faces to be seen, and the lower ends of the blankets trailed in the snow, quite hiding their feet. The effect was ghastly. Their appearance was so unexpected and so silent as they merely stood up noiselessly, and looked at me.

The glimpse of their dark sinister faces, with the shining eyes and cruel thin lips, was enough to startle anyone in an unexpected meeting. Out here on the plains, however, where all had been tenantless and lonely, to have these two weird figures loom up and stand looking at one with purposeful eyes, was enough t make me scream – which I promptly did.

As I screamed in passing them, I saw the Indians fling their arms free of their blankets, and as the white robes flapped back, I caught a glimpse of weapons upon both. They were strong warriors out for mischief; and I shuddered as I thought of how they must have been there hiding ever since I had been out; and realized that their eyes must have followed me all the time. I passed the before I understood the situation, and then it was too late to go back.

My escort called to me in English, which of course the Indians did not understand, “Make for the water wagon trail,” and so I did.

I had the start of the blanketed pursuers, and I also had skates to aid me, while they had to cross the glassy ice, wearing moccasins. Yes, I had the skates now, but when I got to shore they would be of no further assistance and I would lose time in getting them off. Then it suddenly flashed over me, that I did not have the key to my skates. At that moment it was reposing in my escort’s pocket.

What should I do! The skates would not possibly pull off, and I could not go up the hill with them on. Ice skates are convenient pedal accessories when one is on a smoothly frozen surface, but for overland traveling they have never been extremely popular. As I thought how impossible it would be to procure the key, I remembered that I was wearing buttoned boots – there was yet a chance.

I skirted the miniature wood, and soon gained the shore. Not a moment must be lost, for the Indians were cutting through the trees on the slope and I knew their intention was to head me off on my way to Camp. My only hope was to make better time than they had and I had further to go. However, I had the advantage of the trail which was fairly well beaten, while they had the hill side and snowdrifts to encounter.

Without hesitation, I balanced myself first on one foot and then the other and ripping open my shoes, slipped them off with the skates still attached. I then clutched the loaded shoes in my hand and started up the trail.

I had always been fleet of feet; but never before had I tried to make time up a hill in my stocking feet and along a road of roughly beaten snow. The wheels had made ice ridges in it that bruised and cut my feet. One of the shoes dropped, and with anxious haste I gather it up and plunged on. Even my short walking skirt was an impediment to my progress but away I hiked for dear life up the incline.

Never had the way seemed so long, though never before had I expected each minute to be stopped by two ghost-like figures. Fearfully I kept watching for their appearance to the path ahead or just back of me. Up the hill I ran, catching first my dress then my breath. Above was the guard tent. If I could make that I would be safe. Would the red men appear before I could reach it?

The last few steps I was without definite thought or aim. I was running at top speed and the muscles kept working themselves. I had forgotten to fear. In a moment more I reached the guard ten and as I saw the sentry spring toward me, I dropped exhausted and unconscious onto the snow.

It was not until sometime later, that I came to myself a few yards in my own tent. And then it was, as I looked into my husband’s anxious face, that I realized the danger was past, and that I had won out in the race.