Part 12 (1/2)
”SOUTH FORK, WHITE RIVER, ”_October_ -- '90, 9 A.M.
”_Lieutenant H.H. Willard, Adjutant Detachment --th Cavalry._
”SIR,--I have to report that we have just intercepted a small party of Sioux driving off a four-horse wagon, which contains eleven Henry and Winchester rifles and at least ten thousand rounds of ball cartridges. This is probably the 'outfit' of the fugitives who reached bivouac this morning, reporting it burned and their comrades killed.
”One of the latter, at least, is alive, but we found him unconscious, although unharmed. He was driving the wagon. The Indians scattered, but are now a.s.sembling in the cotton-woods a mile distant. More seem coming to join them. If attacked, we will hold out; but I wish to push on and ascertain what befell the others. We cannot, however, leave the wagon, nor have I force enough to leave a guard.
”Very respectfully, ”G.M. GRAHAM, ”_Second Lieutenant --th Cavalry_, ”_Commanding detachment_.”
Then came a significant P.S., at sight of which, little over an hour later, Major Berry's eyes snapped, and so did his speech.
”Bring those two scoundrels here!” said he, and a hangdog-looking pair they were when presently lined up before the bearded commander, while no less a personage than Captain Garrett, at the head of forty troopers, was setting forth on the trail of his much-envied subaltern, to relieve him, if surrounded and attacked by the Sioux; to relieve him, in any event, of the care of the wagon, but under no circ.u.mstances to relieve him of his command or duties. Unless menaced by strong parties of the Sioux, Mr. Graham was to go ahead with a dozen additional men, carry out his orders, and Captain Garrett with the rest should bring that wagon to camp.
Then with Geordie's report and postscript in hand, the major stood glowering at the fugitives of the morning, now most ruefully yet furtively studying his face. They suspected something amiss when warned awhile before that they were not to try to ride off. They knew there was mischief to pay now.
”You two sku--specimens,” began the major, ominously, ”told me you were only accidentally on the Sioux reservation. You swore you were simply out hunting antelope.”
”That's G.o.d's truth, major,” whined the taller of the two, though the other seemed ready to parley and plead.
”That's an infernal lie!” was the answer. ”You told me the Sioux 'jumped' your camp, killed your partner, and burned your wagon.” And with menace in his burning eyes the veteran officer paused for a reply.
”'Fore G.o.d, major, that's how it looked to us. 'Course it was pitch-dark--”
”Pitch-dark--in bright moonlight! This is worse, and more of it.
You're a pair of black-hearted villains! You went there deliberately.
You went with a wagon-load of arms and ammunition to sell to Sioux Indians just bound for the war-path. You'd swing for that if there was any law in the land, but swing you shall--anyhow!”
”You da.s.sn't touch us!” burst in the leader, sudden spirit and defiance in his tone, well knowing how powerless were the military in face of civil law. ”We're no poor devils of dog-robbers. We demand protection and a fair trial--a jury of our peers; that means no hide-bound gang of soldiers. You can't prove we sold so much as a shot, an' you know it, an' you're only trying to bluff.”
”That's enough, _you_!” was the startling answer. ”Sergeant of the guard, shoot these men like dogs if they attempt to escape. We sha'n't waste time trying to prove you sold arms. What we can prove, and will prove, and by your own man, too, and hang you high as Haman for it, is that Pete Gamble, deputy sheriff, caught you at your devilish work, and you shot him dead from ambus.h.!.+”
CHAPTER XVII
THE WAR-DANCE AND THE CHARGE
With two days' cooked rations in their saddle-bags now, with a line of hearty appreciation from Major Berry and renewed instructions to go ahead, with a dozen more men than he had at the start, and the best wishes of his temporary commander, Geordie Graham had pushed on again northeastward down the right bank of the Fork. Waiting until the party was fairly out of sight over the far-distant ”divide,” and watching meantime the movements of the still remaining Indians in the timber, Captain Garrett finally put his puny command in march for the Mini Chaduza, bringing the wagon and the now semi-restored charioteer along.
Five of Gunnison's pack-mules, sent on with the troop, had so lightened the wagon of its load that the lately abused horses, given a good feed of oats and a swallow of water, were able to trundle it lightly along.
With another day it was started under escort for Niobrara, its late owners, cursing their fate, unwilling pa.s.sengers inside.
It was late afternoon when the two halves of ”F” Troop lost sight of each other, the captain going, grumbling, back to the main body with a much disappointed command; the subaltern riding swiftly away down the widening valley, with an exultant platoon at his back, all hands rejoicing that theirs was the first capture of the campaign. Parallel with them, afar across the stream, darting from cover to cover and keeping vigilant watch, rode half a dozen redskins. Most of their brethren, by this time, were far away toward Eagle's Nest, in quest of the main body. These few were charged with the duty of keeping track of the little troop, in order to be able to report exactly the direction in which it was going and that no pursuit was intended. This definitely settled, they, too, galloped away, and the valley, so far as Geordie could judge, was now free of red riders.
The sun was low in the west. The wagon-tracks still led on. The night was near at hand, and the troopers in advance had seen no sign of a camp. Ten miles, at least, had they marched, and, avoiding a deep westward bend of the stream, the trail now led them over a low ridge, from whose crest the scouts signalled, ”Nothing in sight.”
Yet, a few minutes later, Graham and Connell, dismounting there the better to scour the country with their gla.s.ses, were seen by the main body to spring to their feet and then to saddle, Graham facing toward them and with his hat signalling, ”Change direction half left,” whereat Sergeant Drum, riding steadily along perhaps four hundred yards behind his young commander, simply turned his horse's head in the direction indicated, left the wagon-track, and silently his comrades followed.
”They've found it,” said Drum, and found it they had.
Though the wheel-marks still held to the northward, and the three troopers far in the lead had seen nothing as yet worthy of special report, the strong lenses of the signal-gla.s.s had told their own story.
”Look yonder, Connell, in that clump of cotton-woods beyond the low point,” were Graham's words as he sprang to his feet. ”See those black things in the timber? They're buzzards!”