Part 12 (1/2)
”I'll be on the watch for you,” answered the Captain.
”That's right; be on the watch,” the General a.s.sented. Then suddenly he opened his field-gla.s.s case and took out the gla.s.ses. ”Here's something for you to keep watch with,” he continued, handing them to the Captain.
”I have another pair and you may find these useful. I have carried them for a long time, and they are good gla.s.ses.”
The Captain thanked him warmly, and the General walked ash.o.r.e accompanied by his officers, and they mounted their horses.
”Good-bye, Captain,” said Al, as he started to follow them. ”I hope you will have a good trip, and that I shall see you soon again.”
He little knew, as he spoke, when and under what unforeseen circ.u.mstances the last part of his wish was to be fulfilled.
”Thank you, Al,” returned the steamboat officer, giving his hand a kindly grip. ”The same to you. Don't get yourself shot to pieces; and I hope next time I see you, you will have your brother with you.”
”Oh, I hope so,” returned Al, earnestly. ”We're sure to find him up there in the Bad Lands.”
As he crossed the landing-stage and walked out to where Cottontail was standing, he saw the deckhand, Jim, leaning against the companion stairs, regarding him with a scowl of hatred, but he gave the fellow hardly a pa.s.sing thought. He followed the staff at a gallop, and as they pa.s.sed up the bluffs in the wake of the rear-guard the hills were re-echoing to the bellowing whistle of the steamboats, blowing them a parting salute and G.o.dspeed.
CHAPTER XI
TRAILING THE HOSTILES
”I wish I knew where I could get two or three more well-mounted orderlies, with courage and common sense,” said General Sully the next day, as the army was wending its way through the rough, picturesque hill country along the Cannonball. ”I haven't enough, and it's hard to tell whether a man can be depended upon until he has been tried.”
The remark caused Al to p.r.i.c.k up his ears.
”I know a man I think would suit you, General,” said he.
”Who?” asked Sully.
”He is a private named Wallace Smith, in the Eighth Minnesota. I knew him at Fort Ridgely. I'm sure he has plenty of courage and common sense, and his horse is a good one.”
Al knew that Wallace was riding Frank, the horse that had so nearly lost their scalps for them on the afternoon of the first attack on Fort Ridgely.
”He is a friend of yours, is he?” asked the General.
”Yes, sir, he is,” answered Al.
”He ought to be all right, then,” the General said. He scribbled something on the paper pad he always carried in his pocket, folded the sheet and handed it to Al.
”Take that to Colonel Thomas,” said he.
Al obeyed joyfully, for he suspected, as proved to be the case, that the paper was an order to Colonel Thomas to detach Wallace from his regiment for orderly service with the commanding general. Wallace was promptly instructed to fall out from the ranks of his company, where he was marching, and he and Al were soon riding forward to join General Sully, who, as usual, was near the head of the column.
”It was certainly very kind of you to think of me, Al,” said Wallace, ”and I appreciate it.”
”Perhaps you won't feel so grateful after a while,” returned Al, with a laugh. ”It may be that when we strike the Indians you will have to get into some dangerous places in carrying orders.”
”That's all right; so much the better chance for promotion,” declared Wallace, lightly. ”Besides, I'm sure that service at headquarters must be much more interesting and pleasant than it is in the ranks, where one has to march all day in one place, and sleep and eat and wash and brush his teeth and almost breathe, by word of command.”
”Yes, I think you will find it more pleasant in that way,” agreed Al.