Part 6 (1/2)

First Sergeant Graham had sworn to the disappearance of the money at the Niobrara and the fact that at daybreak the trumpeter had gone with his horse, arms, and equipments. He also told of his belief that he and the men who slept near him that night had been stupefied by chloroform. Two other troopers told of the loss of their money at the same time; the hospital steward from Fort Robinson testified to Fred's coming to him and getting a little vial of chloroform on a forged request from Sergeant Graham. Corporal Watts had positively identified a ten-dollar bill, which was in the trumpeter's possession when he was searched (at his own request) when first accused of the crime, as one stolen from him at the Niobrara. He had had some experience, he said, and had made a record of the numbers; and this record, in a little notebook, was exhibited to the court.

Not once had the defense interposed or asked a question. It was evidently the policy of Fred's advisers to let the prosecution go as far as it chose. And now came the announcement of the name that was most intimately connected with the case, and Sergeant Dawson in his complete uniform strolled into court, removed the gauntlet from his right hand, and holding it aloft, looked the judge advocate squarely in the face and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Then he sat down and glanced quickly around him, but his eyes did not seem to see Fred Waller, nor did they rest for an instant on Captain Charlton, who, tugging at his mustache, looked steadily at the face of his left guide. Then began the slow, painful, c.u.mbrous method by which the law of the land requires military courts to extract their evidence, every question and answer being reduced to writing. Sergeant Dawson gave, as required, his full rank, troop, regiment, and station, but hesitated as to the latter point. ”I was left behind at Red Cloud when the troop came away Sunday a week ago, sir, along with Private Donovan, and we were kept there until I got orders to come here with the hospital steward. I just got in this morning, and I'm told the troop is back at the Platte crossing.” But the matter of station was of no particular consequence, and the examination proceeded. Yes, he knew the prisoner, Trumpeter Fred Waller, Troop B, and had known him several years before he had enlisted. Told to tell in his own way what he knew of the circ.u.mstances that led to the charges against Waller, the witness cleared his throat and began.

It was the night they camped at the Niobrara, giving the date, that the prisoner seemed restless. All the men expected the Indians to make an attempt to run off the horses, and all were wakeful, but he had most occasion to notice Waller, who didn't seem able to sleep. That night pa.s.sed without alarm of any kind, but the next night it was very dark, the moon went down at eleven, and the horses got to stamping and snorting. Witness was sergeant of the guard, and all night long had to be moving about among his sentries and the herd. About midnight he had come in to the fire, where Sergeant Graham was sleeping, to clean out his pipe, that had clogged. His leather wallet, with his money and some papers, was inside the canvas scouting jacket that the captain allowed him and others of the men to wear, and he took the jacket off a few minutes while he walked over to the stream and soused his head and face in the cold water, a thing he always tried to do when he felt sleepy.

While there he thought he heard a call from the sentry up the stream and he ran thither, and it was just then that the horses began making such a fuss. He kept around among the sentries, trying to find out the cause, and did not go back to the fire until it was all quiet after two o'clock, and then he slipped into his jacket and overcoat and hurried back to where Donovan was on post below the bivouac. There was some noise they could not understand, far out on the prairie in that direction. He never missed his money and the wallet until daybreak, when it was discovered that Waller had gone. He never heard him steal away during the night, and was simply amazed when told of his desertion. The lieutenant had been disposed to blame him at first for letting the trumpeter get away with his horse, but no man could have been more vigilant than he was. ”The captain had never blamed him,” he was sure from the captain's manner when he spoke to him about it at Red Cloud.

And Dawson looked confidently now at his commander, but that gentleman never changed a muscle of his face.

As was customary, the judge advocate inquired if the prisoner had any questions to ask, and the spectators were amazed when he calmly answered, ”No.” Big beads of sweat were trickling down the sergeant's face by this time, but he could not control the look of wonderment that flashed for one instant into his eyes at this refusal of a valued privilege.

”Has the court any questions?” asked the judge advocate, and to the still greater wonderment of spectators and witness no member of the court appeared to care to inquire further. When Sergeant Dawson left the court room and walked away toward the barracks he knew that all eyes were upon him, and just as soon as he could throw aside his saber, helmet, and full dress he lost no time in getting to the trader's store and swallowing half a tumbler of raw whisky. He thought the ordeal over and that he was free. It was with a sensation of something like premonition that, as he came forth, he saw at the barracks the orderly of the court-martial, who had been sent to warn him that he would be called by the defense at two o'clock.

CHAPTER XVI.

PRISON AND PROMOTION.

That afternoon the court room was crowded when Sergeant Dawson retook his seat and glanced for the first time at the prisoner before him. In front of the boy was a little table, on which was a number of slips of paper. One of these was quietly pa.s.sed to the judge advocate, who took it, wheeled in his chair, and read aloud:

”What answer did you give Lieutenant Blunt when he asked if you had been outside the sentry-line the night the prisoner disappeared?”

”I told him that I had not, sir,” was the prompt reply.

The judge advocate posted the reply on his record sheet, and wrote the answer below. Then came another slip.

”What answer did you give the captain when asked if any man had ridden back toward the Niobrara the morning the troop left there for Red Cloud?”

The sergeant's throat seemed to clog a little, but he gulped down the obstruction. ”I said no man went back, sir.”

”What buildings, if any, were there near the spot where the troop was in bivouac on the Niobrara?”

Dawson's face was losing its ruddy hue, but the beads of sweat were starting afresh.

”An old empty log hut, sir. I didn't take much notice of it, sir.”

”How far from the sentries was it?”

”I don't just know, sir. Two or three hundred yards perhaps.” His lips were beginning to twitch, and his eyes to wander nervously from face to face.

”How much money did you lose with your wallet that night?”

”Over sixty dollars, sir; every cent I had.”

”What answer did you give Captain Charlton at Red Cloud when he asked you if you had seen anything of it since that night?”

”I told him no, sir.”