“Thompson, don’t ever let me go out of this room again and leave the key in the lock,” said Carl, as he closed the outer door of his state-room and threw the catch into place. “That was not a very bright trick on my part. It is what caused all this trouble.”
“Show me the man who did this and I will make a spread eagle of him right here,” said Thompson, placing his hand behind him.
“Put up your pistol,” exclaimed Carl angrily. “If you shoot one of those men you will only alarm the whole boat; and, besides, you can’t prove anything. But I have just thought of something. Sit down here close to me, so that you can hear what it is.”
It did not take Carl very long to tell Thompson what he had on his mind, and when he told him how the money would be Page 311 safe hereafter, his companion jumped up and drew the funds out of his bosom.
“But are you sure the clerk won’t steal it?” he asked. “Eight thousand dollars is a heap of money for some people to have.”
“Of course I am sure of it,” said Carl. “It is his business to take valuables that his customers may have and lock them up in the safe. Take your revolvers from your hip pockets and put them on the inside of your coat, and I will give mine to the clerk.”
The first thing was to wrap up the money in a piece of newspaper, and the second was to do up two more bundles as near like the first as they could, and these Carl put on the inside of his shirt. Then he picked up the money package and laid his hand upon the door.
“I like the idea of giving up the money because I never did want to take it in the first place,” said Thompson. “But I don’t like you to have it. Those men could take you down easy enough.”
“Perhaps they will not attempt it. They may suspect what we have done with the Page 312 money, and in that case they will go away and let us alone.”
Carl cautiously opened the door of his state-room, and through the glass at the front of the cabin he saw the two men sitting on the boiler deck, with their backs toward the office. They walked lightly toward the room where the clerk was without attracting the attention of the men, and pounded upon it. In an instant the door came open to them.
“Not a word out of you,” whispered Carl. “There may be some men aboard this boat who might take it into their heads to rob me, and I have here eight thousand dollars which I beg you will take and lock up for me.”
“Whew!” whistled the clerk. “Are you sure the money is in that package?”
“To be sure I am. I just put it there.”
“I would like to see it before I touch it. Unwrap it.”
Of course that was nothing more than fair for the clerk, for he did not want to take the package and find that there was nothing of value in it. Carl readily took off the wrappings, and showed him the pile of greenbacks.
“That’s all right,” said the clerk. “Do it up again. There are only two persons aboard this boat, and one of them says he is acquainted with you.”
“The man never told you a bigger lie in his life,” said Carl indignantly. “I never saw him until to-day.”
“Do you say that he has an eye on this money? Then we’ll have him put off.”
“But we can’t prove anything against them.”
“Can’t eh?” Thompson almost shouted.
“Don’t talk so loud,” said Carl hastily. “We don’t want those men to know where we are. The fact of the matter is we left our valises in our state-rooms, and when we went in there we found our clothes all over the floor. Thompson wanted to shoot those men, but I knew he would only make matters worse.”
“Do you think those men had a hand in it?” asked the clerk. “I’ll just watch them,” he added, as he took the package and locked it up in his safe.
“That’s all right. Now I wish you would Page 314 put my revolvers with it. They are not loaded. Thompson will feel safer if he has his on, where he can put his hands on them.”
After a little more talk on the subject the clerk went out on the guards, and while he was there the cowboys slipped out behind him and came into the cabin through the passage-way which communicated with the cook’s galley. They went out on the boiler deck and stayed there until Kelly began to talk about money, and then they removed their chairs around by the side of the cabin, onto the guards. But if Carl had seen Kelly punch his companion in the ribs with his elbow, he would have known that that part of his plot had been successful. The boys stayed around on the guards until after supper, and even when the shades of night began to gather about them; they remained there until it got so dark that they could scarcely see their hands before them. This was the time that Kelly told his companion that it was the season for them to begin. Their attack upon them was so sudden that it was all over before they had time to think about it. Carl saw Thompson Page 315 thrown overboard, and before he could cry out or lift a finger he received a stunning blow on the head, and then all was blank to him.
But it was not so with Thompson. The latter was a strong man, and Hayward had scarcely picked him up before he was fighting. He clutched his assailant around the head with one hand, while with the other he attempted to save himself from going overboard. But Hayward was on the alert. He pulled himself away from Thompson’s encircling grasp and threw him over the railing; but the cowboy, whose arms and legs appeared to be everywhere, caught onto the railing with his left hand while the other slid inside of his coat. A moment more and Hayward could not have told anything about that scrape, for he would have been laid out with a bullet in his brain; but he struck him a fierce blow in the face, unclasped his fingers, and Thompson went down.
But the blow did not deprive him of consciousness. He found, in going down to the water, that he had struck upon one of the Page 316 fenders which are used to keep the steamer off from a wharf-boat when making a landing. His arms and legs instinctively closed around it, and, in place of going into the water, Thompson slid down until his feet rested on the lower guard. He had barely time to swing himself on board the boat when he heard a splash behind him. He turned and looked at it, and there was Carl, limp and lifeless, going down with the current. Something that sounded very much like an oath came from Thompson’s lips as he let go his hold upon the fender and struck out to Carl’s assistance.
If there was anything Thompson could do better than herding cattle it was to swim. With a few swift strokes he was near enough to seize Carl, and the first thought that came into his mind was that the villains, not satisfied with getting his money, had made an end of him then and there. He took Carl around the waist, lifted his head above water, and swam toward the boat. Swimming now was a necessity for him, for just below him was a sidewheel steamer coming in, and if he got Page 317 down under her guards it was a question whether or not he would ever come up again. He made headway through the water as he had never made it before, and presently caught hold of the fender that came down opposite the engine room.
“Hi there, some of you fellows!” shouted Thompson. “Lend us a hand here.”
Fortunately the engineer was not busy. He stood watching the deck hands as they were carrying the freight aboard, and he heard the hail coming from the water. He ran to the side, and with a “Heaven bless my soul! How did you get in?” he seized Carl and lifted him upon the guards. “Is he dead?” he asked, with some anxiety in his tones.
“No; but he may as well be,” said Thompson. “Now, then, help me out. I know the fellows that did all this, and if I can find them——”
Thompson could not wait to say any more. He left Carl where he had fallen and ran up the stairs to the boiler deck; but he might as well have saved himself the trouble, for Kelly and his friend were across the wharf-boat and Page 318 well on their way up the levee. There were the chairs, in which they had been sitting, both overturned, but the men who did the business were nowhere in sight. Before he returned to Carl he looked all over the boat, but still he could not see anything of Kelly and Hayward.
“Here’s the bump that did all the mischief,” said the engineer, pointing to a wound on the back of Carl’s head. “He must have been hit with something. What was the fuss all about, anyway?”
“Carl knows, and when he gets ready perhaps he will tell you about it,” said Thompson. “Is he never going to speak to me again?”
“Oh, yes. He’s coming around all right now. You had better take him upstairs and put him in his bunk.”
“I had not been off the boat twenty minutes before this thing happened,” said the clerk, who came up at the time Carl was beginning to show signs of coming to. “I have had an eye on them ever since Mr. Preston told me about it.”
“What did he do?” repeated the engineer.
There were a good many deck hands standing around by this time, and the clerk did not think it best to speak about the money. He replied that they wanted to whip Carl for something he had done; and taking him under one arm, while Thompson took hold of the other, they took him up to his bunk and put him into it.
“It beats the world what that fellow hit me with,” said Carl, placing his hand to his head. “He struck me with something besides his fist.”
“I suppose it was a sand-bag,” said the clerk. “A scoundrel can carry one of them up his sleeve until he gets ready to use it.”
“Well, they didn’t get the money, anyway,” said Carl, drawing a long breath of relief. “Where are you going, Thompson?”
“I am going out to have those men arrested. If I can find a policeman anywhere——”
To the surprise of both Thompson and the clerk, Carl interfered.
“I beg that you will do nothing of the kind,” said he. “Thompson, come back here and sit down.”
This was said in the form of an order, and Thompson had nothing to do but obey. Carl settled back on his pillow and closed his eyes, and the clerk, readily divining that he was not wanted there, got up to go.
“If you can think of anything you want, don’t fail to send Thompson after it and you shall have it,” said he.
Carl said he would bear that in mind, and when he was alone with the cowboy he exclaimed:
“Don’t you see that if you arrested those men you would get Claude into a mess?”
“No, I don’t. Did Claude have a hand in sending those men here?”
“Of course he did. As soon as he got ashore he went and got those fellows to come here and steal the money; and if they should be caught, don’t you see how easy it would be for them to tell on him?”
“And you want to let him go free because he is your cousin?”
“That’s it exactly. I am doing just as I believe my father would do if he were here. Besides, you would be held as a witness. I Page 321 don’t know how long it will be before court sits, probably a month or six weeks, and you would have to lay in jail all that time.”
Thompson had no more to say after that. He did not know how a jail looked on the inside—he didn’t want to, for if it looked as badly as it did on the outside it was gloomy enough—and the idea of staying there for six weeks filled the foreman with apprehension.
“Dog-gone the boy, let him go!” said he.
“That is what I say. Now, I want you to stay here.”
Carl hoped they would be allowed to finish their journey in peace, and that no further attempts would be made to steal that miserable money. By the time the boat started he had recovered from his blow so that he could be on deck, and by the time they arrived at Fort Scully he was overjoyed to find his boat there. The clerk gave Carl his money with the remark that it was a pity he did not see his way clearly toward having those men arrested, for now they would be encouraged to go on another expedition of the same kind, and saw him go ashore. In process of time their Page 322 little boat carried them in safety to Fort Yates, and, as it was early in the morning, they hitched up their team and started for home.
“Thank goodness that trip is made,” said Carl, who felt like yelling when he found himself on the prairie again, “and I hope it will be long before I am called upon to make another. Thompson, I will not take you with me, anyhow.”
“Shake,” said the foreman extending his hand. “I would sooner be here with the cattle. But if it had not been for me you would have gone under the wheels of that steamer.”
“Well, I guess that is so,” said Carl.
The prairie home of Carl, the Trailer, seemed very inviting to him after the thrilling scenes through which he had passed on the Mississippi, and sometimes he was almost tempted to send word to the commander of the fort that certain circumstances over which he had no control would keep him at home. There everybody was friendly to him, his word was law, and it was reasonable to suppose that he could get along with them better than he could with strangers. But whichever way he turned he found something to remind him of his father, and he hoped that, surrounded with new associations and new scenes, he would be led to forget the past and so begin life anew.
“Now, Thompson,” said Carl, when he found himself in the office, and the money which had cost him so much trouble was laid out on the table, “I begin by carrying out Page 324 the conditions of the will this very afternoon. You want two thousand dollars; and I may add that, in giving it to you, I give it with my full and free consent. You have earned it by your strict attention to duty, and if you ever want any more money come to me and get it.”
This was almost too much for Thompson to stand. He looked around for a chair, and when he found it he dropped helplessly into it. No man could have stood a “cussing” better then he, but when it came to such talk as this, it took all the pluck out of him.
“Are you still going to the fort?” he managed to ask.
“Yes, I must go there. I promised the colonel, and I always like to keep my word.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“I shall be gone until I learn to be as good a scout as there is attached to headquarters. We are going to see war pretty soon——”
“Now, I hope you won’t pay any attention to what those teamsters at Fort Yates said to you,” said Thompson in disgust. “The Sioux have got whipped so bad that they will never try it again.”
“But you see, Thompson, there are more of them here than there are of us. Sitting Bull isn’t going to be quiet for any length of time. There’s your money. Count it.”
“Well, I guess it is all right, and I won’t count it, if you please,” said Thompson slowly. “When do you start for the fort?”
“To-morrow morning bright and early. I need not ask you to keep an eye on things while I am gone. I will be up here every few days, just to see how things are getting along.”
Thompson had already said all he could to keep Carl at home, and he knew that it was breath wasted. He went out and sent in the cook to get his money, and then seated himself on the doorstep and rested his head on his hands. One by one the men were settled with according to the terms of his father’s will, and after that Carl put on his hat and went out to his sire’s grave. How long he stayed there no one knew, but when he came back his eyes were red and he went into his own room.
The next morning, however, Carl was himself again. He ate a hearty breakfast, shook Page 326 the men warmly by the hand, and set off at a gallop. He was dressed in a suit that was more becoming to him than the one he wore to St. Louis. He wore a tight-fitting suit of moleskin, with a Mexican sombrero and heavy gauntlet gloves. At his waist he carried his revolver, and at his back his Winchester rifle, supported by a broad band which crossed his breast. In his saddle-bags he carried an extra suit, another pair of boots, a shirt or two, and ammunition for his rifle. His horse was a mustang, small and clean-limbed, and although he did not move as though he had any “go” in him, his rider was willing to ride him a twenty-mile race with any horse on the plains. Taken altogether he was a very fancy-looking scout, as some of the soldiers said when he drew up to report to the colonel; but they found out that there was something more than fancy about him when he came to fulfill his duty.
“Well, Carl, I am glad to see you,” said the colonel, as the orderly took in his name. He had left his horse outside in the hands of a teamster, and his rifle and saddle bags were Page 327 on the porch. “I have business for you right away,” added the colonel; “but first I want to know how much you are going to charge me.”
“I want nothing, sir, except my board,” said Carl.
“Nothing?” exclaimed the commander. “And will you be ready to go night and day whenever I shall call upon you?”
Carl replied that he would.
“That is cheap enough. You had better take another horse, for I am going to send you to Fort Yates.”
“I guess my horse will do for that journey,” said Carl with a smile. “I am more used to him than I am to any other animal.”
And so it came about that Carl, the Trailer, got a position without going out of his own country. For two years he stayed there at the fort, making occasional trips to his ranch to see how things were going on there, and every time the colonel called for him he was there. He boarded with the teamsters while he was at the fort, but his favorite duty, and the one he most delighted in, was guiding the Page 328 hunting expeditions to the mountains to get fresh meat for the garrison. Every time Carl went off in this way he was certain to come back with his wagons well filled.
But Carl’s way was not clear yet. He had one hundred and twenty-five miles to go before he would be among friends, and not a mouthful to eat while he was travelling that distance. It was true that he had revolvers in his pockets, and that jack rabbits were plenty. He had matches, too, in his possession, so that he could cook the meat after he shot it, but the report of his revolver might start the Indians looking for him. The boy thought of this as he sped on his way, and by the time daylight arrived he stood upon the banks of Grand River, which separated him from the trail that led to Fort Scott. Before he took to the willows he looked cautiously around, but there were no Indians to be seen.
“Those Indians who were going to the Bad Lands to fight the whites must have gone by the upper trail,” said Carl, as he took off his Page 330 blanket and drew his revolvers, which he took in one hand and held above his head. “If that is the case I am all right. Lie there,” he added, throwing the blanket into the willows. “I have carried you twenty-five miles, and you haven’t done me any good, either.”
Carl took another glance around to make sure that the way was clear, and entered the water. He did not know how deep the water was, but by swimming and wading alternately he managed to cross the river, and without any more reconnoitering he struck out straight for the fort. During all his lonely journey he did not see an Indian, or a white man, either, to whom he could give the news of Sitting Bull’s death—for it was the source of a great deal of satisfaction to him. The brains of the Sioux nation were gone, and where would they look to find another man to take his place? Every time he thought of it he felt like yelling; and one time he did raise his voice, but stopped all of a sudden, and glanced around to see if there was anybody within hearing.
The day passed away and night came on, Page 331 but the fort was every moment drawing nearer. He was tired and sleepy, but he could not think of stopping to rest until he conveyed the news to the commander of Fort Scott. He was certain that there had not been anybody along the trail, for he would have seen them; so he was going to be the first to carry the information. About twelve o’clock he became aware that he was at his journey’s end. He heard a challenge directly in front of him, and Carl came to a standstill. It seemed to him that the corporal was a long time in coming, but he heard the gate unfastened at last, and the non-commissioned officer came out.
“Who are you?” he asked, bending over and looking into Carl’s face.
“Well, I guess I have got a right here,” said the young scout. “Don’t you know me?”
“By gracious!” exclaimed the corporal. “Carl, the Trailer!”
“That is just what they call me when I am here among friends. I am tired and sleepy, but I want first to see the colonel. I have a report to make to him.”
“Come in. Lieutenant Parker is officer of the guard, and I know he will be delighted to see you. He has been on nettles every time your name is mentioned.”
Lieutenant Parker was standing in front of his quarters waiting to see what the corporal was going to find outside the gate, and when he saw the two coming along the parade he came quickly toward them.
“I have got him, sir,” said the corporal.
If we were to say that the two boys were delighted to see each other we should fall far short of the truth. Carl held out his hand, but the lieutenant paid no attention to it. He rushed in, caught Carl around his arms, and whirled him with his feet clear of the ground, all unmindful of the presence of the corporal. Then he put him down and seized him by the hand.
“I tell you I can rest in peace now,” said Parker. “Carl, how do you do? How did you escape?”
“I’ve got a long story to tell you,” said Carl, “but first I must see the colonel. I ought to report to him the first thing I do.”
“Come in here with me just a minute and then you can call on the colonel,” said the lieutenant, leading the way into his quarters. “I want to look at you.”
“Say,” said Carl in a lower tone, as the lieutenant closed the door behind him, “Sitting Bull is dead.”
Parker had picked up a chair to place it for Carl to sit down, but he stopped when these words fell upon his ear and put the chair down again.
“Yes, sir,” said Carl. “He resisted arrest and he was shot dead.”
“Why—why—who told you?” asked Parker.
“A courier came into the camp and reported it, and I jumped at the chance for escape.”
“Who killed him?”
“The Indian police. Now, do you think I ought to report that to the colonel or wait until morning?”
“Go at once and report it. So Sitting Bull is dead. Come back here after you see the colonel and tell me your story.”
“I will, after I get something to eat and put some extra clothes on. I haven’t had these duds off for a week.”
“I will get you something to eat,” said the lieutenant. “I am anxious to hear what Sitting Bull did.”
The two boys went out, and Carl bent his steps toward the colonel’s room. The orderly, who sat at a table in the hall reading, was overjoyed to see Carl once more, and after listening to his report that he had something to say to the commander that ought not to be kept until to-morrow, went into where the colonel was lying.
“He will see you,” said he. “He won’t get up.”
The colonel was sitting up in bed, striving with both hands to make his few gray hairs cover his bald head, but he extended a palm to Carl and greeted him warmly.
“So General Miles took me at my word, did he?” he asked.
“General Miles?” repeated Carl. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Why, I sent him notice that you had Page 335 been captured by the Sioux band when they were not on the warpath, and requested him to demand your surrender.”
“This is the first I heard of it, sir,” said Carl, who wondered that the colonel thought so much of him as all that. “If he sent any word to the Sioux I don’t know it.”
The commander looked surprised but said nothing, and Carl went on with his report. He looked more surprised as he listened, asked a few questions to get at all Carl knew about the matter, and finally said:
“It serves him right. This Sioux war won’t amount to much.”
After a few moments’ conversation, during which Carl told him of the way he had escaped, he went out and found Lieutenant Parker waiting for him, who told him he would find everything he wanted to eat in the officers’ quarters, and that as soon as he had changed his clothes, and had taken the sharp edge off his appetite, he was expected to tell his story. Carl hurried away, and in half an hour more he was in Lieutenant Parker’s quarters, who was out somewhere, but when he came in a Page 336 few moments later he found Carl filling up for a smoke.
“I tell you, Parker, my pipe was the only friend I had while I was posting along that prairie in the direction of the fort,” said he, as he pulled a match from his pocket and struck a light. “It could not say anything to me, but I drew almost as much encouragement from it as I would from my horse, if I had had one.”
The young scout then seated himself and went on with his story, omitting no detail that he thought would be at all interesting to Lieutenant Parker. When he told of the Ghost Dance, he held his excited auditor spellbound.
“It was the queerest thing in the shape of a dance that I ever heard of,” said Carl. “There was literally nothing that was interesting about it. They go round and round until they get tired, and then they drop.”
“Did you see anybody in a trance?” asked Parker.
“No, I got tired of watching the thing and went to sleep. If any one was tormented in that way it was after dark.”
Carl stayed up with the lieutenant all that night, and when morning came and they were relieved he went off to his quarters to find a little rest in sleep. But all the teamsters were up, and he had to go through with the same thing again. Of course he did not say anything about Sitting Bull’s death. He had made a report of that to the colonel, and he wisely decided that the information could come through him. Everywhere he was regarded as a hero, but no one could understand why Harding had suddenly become so lenient to him.
“I guess Harding has not got much stomach for a fight,” said one of the teamsters; “I don’t believe he thinks there is going to be one;” and this was the general verdict of all of them. But finally it came out, nobody knew how, that Sitting Bull was dead. Of course everybody was excited when they heard of it, but there were not a few who believed, with the colonel, “that this Sioux war won’t amount to much.” What was their surprise, however, when a white courier rode into the fort about ten o’clock that morning, on a horse Page 338 almost ready to drop with fatigue, and brought a letter from General Miles. Of course there were plenty of soldiers around who saw him go in, and they were wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement while waiting for some one to come out.
“I tell you, Carl, there is something up,” whispered Parker to the young scout. “That man never came here with all that haste for nothing. We are going to see something.”
“I hope you can go,” said Carl. “I won’t see any fun at all if you are left behind.”
“You will go, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. If the Indians are going to have a dressing down, I am going to have a hand in it.”
The two curbed their impatience as well as they could and watched the colonel’s door. In a few moments the orderly came out on a run and bent his steps toward the adjutant’s quarters; and in a second more out came that officer, bareheaded and with no coat on, and straightway went into the colonel’s room. This made the boys more inclined to believe that “there was something up,” and this became Page 339 realized when the adjutant came out and called for the trumpeter.
“Now we are going to hear it,” said Parker. “I hope they will call for Company D the first thing.”
The men at a distance took up the call for “the trumpeter,” sounding it out loud and clear, and presently the man appeared with his instrument in his hand. He exchanged a few words with the adjutant, then threw back his head and put his trumpet to his lips. He did not blow the call for any particular company, but he blew the general muster of the cavalry; whereupon Parker almost jumped from the ground.
“Whoopee! I am going,” said he, seizing Carl’s arm with a grip that astonished him. “You must go, too. Where’s your horse?”
This was something that Carl had not yet had time to attend to—getting a horse to replace the one that he had left in the hands of the Sioux. The very first man he came to was a teamster who had a couple of horses, and he raised no objections whatever to loaning Carl the best one in the lot.
“It won’t take you long to decide which one is the best,” said he, as he led the way out of the gate, “’cause one is about as good as the other. They don’t look as though they had any get up about them, but you get on ’em and try ’em.”
“Will he run fast if the Indians get after him?” asked Carl, as he slipped a bridle on the horse while the teamster put a saddle on his back.
“Are you going out after the Indians?” inquired the man in surprise. “By George! you want to look out.”
“That is the reason I asked the question.”
“I have never seen this horse in a race, but I bet you he will get there. Look out that they don’t play the same trick on you that they played upon Custer.”
“I will look out for that. You come in on the parade-ground and hold him while I get my things.”
When Carl hurried through the gate he saw a long line of cavalry drawn up on the parade-ground, with their officers at the head, and the adjutant was just going into the colonel’s Page 341 door to tell him that the troops were all present or accounted for. They were all sitting stiffly in their saddles, waiting for the word to move. They were waiting to see, too, who was going to command them; but in a few seconds after the adjutant disappeared the colonel came to the door, and then this question was answered. He had his greatcoat on, a pair of heavy gauntlet gloves on his hands, and the point of a sabre dragged on the ground behind him.
“That’s all right,” said Carl, making haste into his room. “Now we will see how much the colonel knows about fighting Indians.”
All the cavalry stationed at Fort Scott was in line. The “Sorrels,” the “Blacks,” the “Grays” and the “Bays”—so called from the color of the horses they rode—were there, eager for a move; and they all had their heavy overcoats on, and were equipped for a long and heavy march. The weather was as fine as anybody could ask for at that season of the year; the mornings were crisp and cold—just the time to put both horses and men in good trim for a headlong gallop; but everybody knew that by the time they got back again they would bring a blizzard with them.
Lieutenant Parker sat erect on his horse, with his eyes “straight to the front, striking the ground at a distance of fifteen yards;” but he had an eye out for Carl, the Trailer. Without turning his head he saw him rush Page 343 into his room, and when he came out again he did not look much like the boy who had gone in a few moments before. He was bundled up all ready for a march. He saw him mount his horse—a sorry-looking old horse it was, too—ride around in the rear of the line, and take up a position a short distance behind his friend. The colonel exchanged a few words with the captain he was going to leave in command of the post, and then turned to the adjutant, who started off to put the column in motion. “Fours right!” he shouted; and in a few minutes the men were through the gate and threading their way across the prairie.
“I declare, you got a horse, didn’t you?” said the lieutenant, who, now that the line was fairly in motion, could talk all he wanted to. “Who’s is it? I hope the Indians will not get after us. If they do, you are gone up.”
“Where are we going—do you know?” asked Carl.
“I don’t know for certain, but from something I heard the colonel tell the adjutant I Page 344 think we are going down to the Bad Lands,” answered Lieutenant Parker. “We are in pursuit of Big Foot, who became alarmed at the death of Sitting Bull and is running off to save himself.”
“If the Indians would just come in and behave themselves they would save lots of lives by it.”
The Bad Lands were quite a distance from Fort Scott—one hundred and ninety-two miles as the crow flies. In order to get upon the trail of Big Foot they were obliged to go across the Cheyenne reservation, through a section of South Dacota, which at that time was not given up to any Indians, and go the whole length of Pine Ridge reservation, before they would come up with him. How the general knew so soon that he was going to run away, was a mystery. Probably he knew something about Big Foot that others did not know, and had had his eye upon him for a long time. He feared Big Foot, with his little band of six hundred Sioux, more than he did the other Indians, and he thought that if he could get him to surrender the Sioux war Page 345 would be brought to an end at once. But Big Foot had ninety miles the start of him, and those who have followed Indians while they were retreating from a foe know that he would travel night and day but that he would reach his destination before his pursuers did.
The Indians, when they go on the warpath, do not generally take much in the way of plunder to hinder their movements. Everything is thrown away except that which they actually need. Their squaws and children are mounted on fast horses, and they must keep up with the men or stand the chance of being captured. They even throw away their tepee poles, and that is something they do not often do. If they camp in a place where poles cannot be found they have to sleep out in the open air, and an Indian says that is not good for him. When they reach the Bad Lands they are comparatively safe. Nobody knows where those gullies and ravines lead to except the Indian; he knows where he can get water when he wants it, and he knows where the gullies afford the best purpose of resistance. It is no wonder that the Indians go there Page 346 when they get into trouble. Carl knew all this, and was explaining it to the lieutenant as they rode along.
“We ought to have some guns along so as to get them out of those ravines,” said Parker.
“If we could get an enfilading fire on them——”
“Well, perhaps we shall pick up some guns as we go along,” said Carl. “But I know that it is useless to try them with small arms. Give an Indian five minutes’ start and you will never see him again. Just wait until you see the Bad Lands. There is not a tree or a bush on it, and how the Indians can live there beats me.”
At this moment the adjutant galloped up and interrupted their conversation.
“Preston, the colonel wants you out ahead,” said he.
“I don’t know whether I can show him the way or not,” said Carl, a little taken back by this order. “But I will have to go and try. Good-by, Parker. I’ll see you when we get into a fight with the Indians.”
Carl rode up and saluted the colonel, and Page 347 was ordered to put himself on the trail and go ahead as fast as his pony could stand it. The trail was plain enough,—it had been made by the Indians while going to and from the Pine Ridge Agency,—and Carl at once put his pony into a trot and followed it up without any hesitation at all. The column was kept closed up all the while, and there was no talking allowed in the ranks. They kept on until they reached some willows that fringed the banks of a stream, and there the colonel announced that they would stop to allow their horses a few moments of rest and to wait for the wagons, which were lumbering along some distance in the rear. At the end of an hour, having eaten their dinner and smoked their pipes, the column mounted again and set off in pursuit of Big Foot.
“Well, Carl, what do you think of it?” asked the colonel, as he rode up beside the scout, who was going along in his usual trot. “Is this what you came to the fort for—to hunt Indians?”
“Yes, sir; but I think you had better hold up a bit,” answered Carl. “Your horses do Page 348 not act as though they could stand it, and they will be pretty well played out to-night.”
“Why, your horse doesn’t seem to mind it a bit,” said the colonel.
“No, sir, because he is a mustang. Leave him at the stable lines for six months and he will go just the same as he does now; but your horses have not been used to this.”
The colonel thought it was about time that he was turning back to look at his animals, and he found that Carl was right when he spoke about the horses being “played out.” Half the horses were moving along with their heads down as if almost on the point of going to sleep, and it was only when their riders slyly punched them with their spurs that they began to take an interest in going ahead. The colonel spoke to his adjutant, and presently the column came down to a walk.
At night, just as the sun was setting, they came within sight of Big Foot’s camp. There was no one there, but everything bore evidence to a hurried departure by the original owners. Of course the column prepared for night by examining into things. The horses Page 349 were staked out and placed under a guard; farther out there were other dismounted men who looked after the safety of the camp, and others went to work to prepare supper. Carl took care of his pony and then strolled about the camp to see what things had been left behind by the Indians. The camp reminded him of a town that had been burned by fire. The lodge poles were up in every direction, but the tepees themselves had disappeared. Counting them, and taking into consideration the fact that ten or twelve Indians occupied one lodge, he came to the conclusion that there were fully six hundred men and women in the whole camp. And half of them were armed and willing to fight; and, besides, he did not know how many more they would pick up on their way to the Bad Lands.
“Look at this,” said Parker, who had got through with his duties of the camp and came out to see what he could find. As he spoke he picked up a frying-pan which he had found in one of the tepees. “But I don’t see anything but cooking utensils. Where are the weapons?”
“The weapons are in the hands of the Indians and are well on their way to the Bad Lands by this time,” said Carl. “He does not need cooking utensils, but he does need weapons, as you may find out one of these days.”
The officers, one and all, searched the camp; but all they could find were articles of clothing, head-dresses, and things that the Indians could do without. Nothing in the shape of weapons could be found. At last there was a call to supper, and after that they sat about the fires and smoked. A good many of the soldiers had seen deserted camps before; and, in view of the hard ride that was coming on the morrow, they prepared for it by rolling themselves up in their blankets and going to sleep.
There was not a sound to disturb them during the night. At reveille the men all sprang up and were ready to face the duties of the day, whether it was to remain in the saddle or to fight Indians.
“I don’t forget what they did to Custer,” said a soldier who picketed his horse near Page 351 Carl’s, “and I want to get a chance at them for that. I haven’t been in many fights since that happened, but when I have been in one, I didn’t take any prisoners. If we get into a fuss now before we come back, you may bet your bottom dollar that every one I shoot at stays there.”
“Do all the men feel that way?” asked Carl.
“Yes, sir, every one of them,” said the soldier earnestly. “A person who does not feel that way has got no business in the army.”
Carl looked at the soldier as he walked off with his horse. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and looked as though he might whip all the Indians who could get around him. He thought of what he said a few days afterward, when he saw him in a fight. He saw plenty of Indians drop before his aim, but he did not see him bring in any prisoners.
While the men were grooming their horses, which they did with little tufts of grass that came handy to them, the orderly sergeants called the roll without looking into any books; Page 352 after which they reported to the adjutant, and the adjutant reported to the colonel. Very soon “Boots and saddles” was called, and in a few moments the column was on the march.
Carl took the lead, as he did on a former occasion, and about three o’clock in the afternoon they came within sight of a camp of soldiers. Colonel Forsyth was the commanding officer, and to him the report was made. He ordered the cavalry to take up their positions on the opposite ravine, so as to have the Indians surrounded when they came in to deliver up their arms.
“I have some trustworthy Indians out now, looking for some that got into the Bad Lands,” said Colonel Forsyth, “and I am looking for them to come in every day. When they come in we’ll disarm them, and then we would like to see them raise another fuss.”
“Say, Parker, look at that,” said Carl, as the cavalry moved on to its position. “We have some guns.”
“Where?” said the lieutenant, looking all around.
“Over there on the hill. When the Sioux come in they will be camped over there on the plain, and if they attempt any outbreak the guns will mow them down right and left.”
“They are Hotchkiss guns, too. We are not going to see any fight with the Indians. While the colonel was reporting, there was an officer told me that there is a whole body of troops in the Bad Lands; so the best thing they can do is to surrender.”
“This ravine is the only thing that bothers me,” said the colonel, as he rode to his position and gave the necessary orders for preparing camp. “Suppose those Indians come in here and object to giving up their arms. Don’t you see that they can take to the ravine and run out, and we could not stop them? Those guns there would shoot over the ravine and hurt some of us.”
And the colonel was right in his suspicions. Some of the Indians made use of that ravine to get back to the Bad Lands. The guns were moved up in time to cover the ravine, but some of the Sioux managed to get away, after all.
“If there is anything I do despise it is to wait on an Indian until he gets ready to do anything,” said Carl, after they had waited three or four days to receive the Sioux who had gone into the Bad Lands. “An Indian has no idea of the value of time, and he thinks that a month or six weeks from now will do the same as though he came in to-morrow. All they want is a dance to make up their minds whether to come in and surrender or not.”
Lieutenant Parker was getting sadly impatient also, and he began to think that the Indians would not come in at all, that they would be alarmed at so many troops coming to surround them, and that they would decide to stay in the Bad Lands and fight it out; but one day they were electrified by the arrival of a courier who rode at once to Colonel Forsyth’s tent.
“Something is going to happen now,” said Carl. “That man has brought news of some kind.”
“Go over there, Carl,” said Parker. “Our colonel is there. You are not an enlisted man, and you can go and come when you please.”
Carl mounted his horse, which he always kept saddled and ready for instant use, and rode over to Colonel Forsyth’s headquarters. He loafed around there for a spell, waiting to hear what was going on, and a few moments later his colonel came out.
“Can you tell me what’s up, sir?” said Carl.
“Oh, nothing, only the Indians are coming in at last,” answered the officer.
“How many of them are there?”
“About four hundred; but we have eight hundred men here, so I guess they will not attempt any tricks.”
Carl rode back to his camp in company with the colonel, who summoned his officers and held a short consultation with them. Parker and the rest of the young officers, who Page 356 had never seen a hostile camp before, listened to what Carl had to tell them, and then turned their attention to the pass through which the courier had come out. But it was a long time before the Indians arrived. Just as the sun was setting they came into view, and there were so many of them that Parker grew alarmed.
“Have those Indians all got guns?” he asked. “I don’t see anything to indicate the fact.”
“They have guns, for you never saw an Indian go on the warpath without one; but they have them hidden where we can’t find them,” said Carl. “When the order is given to disarm them, you will see what sort of weapons we are going to get—old, worthless things that you wouldn’t pick up in the street.”
“Then the soldiers will search their tepees for them,” said a young officer decidedly.
“Of course; and that is what is going to bring on the fight.”
“Are we really going to have a brush with them?”
“I think so, and you may make up your Page 357 mind to hear how a bullet whistles as it goes by your head.”
“Well, why don’t they begin it, if that is what they are up to?”
“It is too late to do anything to-day, but it will keep. You wait until to-morrow and you will wish that you were back at the fort.”
“Not much, I won’t,” said Parker indignantly. “If my men have come out here to fight Indians, I am going in, too.”
“I see a big tepee off there, sir,” said one of the officers to his captain, who at that moment came up, “and they are carrying somebody into it. Who is that, sir?”
“That is Big Foot, who is ill with pneumonia,” answered the captain; “and the doctor who has just gone in to attend to him is Colonel Forsyth’s surgeon.”
“And there are some soldiers taking in a stove,” added the officer. “They are going to warm him up. I supposed that when an Indian became sick he would kick out all the white surgeons and depend entirely on his medicine man.”
“So he does, generally,” said the captain, Page 358 “but old Big Foot is so bad now that he can’t attend to anything. I hope you boys will get a good sleep to-night, for we are going to have fun in the morning.”
But the boys did not get a good sleep, for they were busy thinking of what was going to happen when daylight came—that is, all except Carl, who would have found rest if he had known that the Indians were powerful enough to massacre their whole command. When morning came he was as bright as a lark, while Parker and the other young officers were pale and nervous, and kept looking forward to that order to disarm the Indians which would transform their peaceable camp into a scene that they did not like to think of.
It was the morning of December 29th, and as soon as breakfast was eaten the cavalry mounted their horses and stretched themselves out in a single line far beyond the ground occupied by the Indian encampment, and the infantry moved up within ten yards of their position. The Indians evidently did not like this, for they congregated in little groups, and talked violently, and made motions which Page 359 Lieutenant Parker thought meant war and nothing else. Finally an interpreter went among them, and after a long wait the warriors all moved out in a body and seated themselves on the ground. Then Colonel Forsyth took a hand in the matter, and, with the interpreter at his side, told the Indians that he had come out there for the purpose of disarming them, and ordered them back to their tepees to bring out their weapons. A part of the Indians went, and after a long wait they brought out two guns, which they handed to the soldiers.
“That won’t do,” said the colonel in a loud voice. “I want each one of you to bring out the weapons that you use in fighting us. If you don’t do it, my men will go in there and search your houses.”
“Now it is coming,” said Carl in a low tone to his friend, and he got down and buckled up his saddle. “When the soldiers go in there, you can make up your mind to advance.”
The Indians did not move, and all the while Yellow Bird, a medicine man, was walking about among them, blowing on a whistle made Page 360 of an eagle bone and talking to them in the Sioux language. He was telling them that they need not be afraid, for their ghost shirts would render the soldiers weak and powerless, and that their bullets would fall harmlessly to the ground.
“If I was Colonel Forsyth I would arrest that Indian the first thing,” said Carl, who was rendered awfully impatient by the Sioux actions. “Why don’t he make that man talk English.”
“What is he doing?” asked Parker.
“I don’t catch the words very distinctly, but he is urging them on to fight,” said Carl. “I wonder if those Indians have ghost shirts on? If they have, that is what he is depending on.”
Still the Indians did not move to go into their tepees and bring out more weapons, and Colonel Forsyth, becoming impatient, ordered the soldiers up closer and sent a party to search the tepees. After a thorough hunt these last returned with about forty rifles, most of which were old and of little value. The search had consumed considerable time, Page 361 and created a good deal of excitement among the women and children, as the soldiers found it necessary to overturn the beds and other furniture of the houses, and sometimes to drive the inmates out of doors. One of the searchers, in coming out, attempted to raise the blanket of one of the warriors, and that seemed to be all Yellow Bird was waiting for. Suddenly he stooped down and seized a handful of dust which he threw into the air, and in an instant afterward a young Cheyenne brave threw off his blanket and fired at the soldiers.
“It is come! it is come!” exclaimed Carl, who was so excited that he could hardly sit still on his horse. “That means war. Now get ready.”
The smoke of the warrior’s gun had scarcely died away when an answering volley came from the soldiers, and they were so close to the Sioux that the guns almost touched each other. After that all was confusion to Lieutenant Parker, although he tried his best to mind what he was doing. He heard the adjutant shout “Forward!” and drove his horse down the ravine, and Carl was right close behind him.
“Shoot to kill!” said the captain. “Don’t throw away a single bullet!”
At first it was not possible for any of the cavalry to shoot, so busy were they in working their way down one side of the gully and up the other; but by the time they were on solid ground once more, the yell that went up from five hundred lungs must have added to the panic of the frightened Indians; for the Indians were frightened, there could be no doubt about that. They fought bravely for a few minutes, but their ghost shirts did not avail them. They saw their comrades fall on every side, they heard the shouts of the soldiers as they pressed them from every side, and finally they turned and sought safety in flight. Lieutenant Parker did not draw his sword from the time he started until the bugle sounded the recall. He used his revolver, and those who knew him said he was a very passable shot. The Hotchkiss guns got the range of the ravine when they saw the Indians escaping that way. They fired two-pound explosive shells at the rate of fifty a minute, cutting down everything that was Page 363 alive. In a few minutes there were two hundred men, women and children lying dead and wounded on the ground, the tepees had been torn down by shells, some of them were burning above the helpless wounded, and the surviving handful of Sioux were flying in a wild panic to the shelter of the ravine. Sixty soldiers were also lying on the ground, which shows how hard the Indians fought at the beginning of the battle.
Lieutenant Parker did not try to hold in his horse when he got fairly out of the ravine. The animal had never been in action before, but he seemed to delight in the whistling of balls and the roaring of cannon. Whenever Parker saw an Indian he pulled on him, and whenever he missed, it is sure that the boy who followed close at his side did not miss with his Winchester. They followed the Sioux for a mile or more, and then the lieutenant heard the sound of the bugle. It was the recall, and he forthwith returned his empty revolver to its holster and shouted to the men who were nearest to him.
“Cease firing!” he yelled. “Don’t you Page 364 hear the bugle sounding a recall? How did you work it, Murphy?” he added, turning to a soldier who had oftentimes told him that he would not take any prisoners. “Did you see any drop?”
“To be sure I did, sir,” said he. “I thought ‘Remember Custer’ all the time I was doing it. Halloo, there’s one. I guess I will fix him so that he won’t kill any more soldiers.”
Murphy stopped in front of a wounded Sioux, who raised on his elbow and looked at him with a countenance full of vindictive fury. He was shot through both legs, and of course he fell to the ground. The soldier felt all over his person but could not find a cartridge left.
“No matter,” said he, throwing himself off his horse. “You’ve got a knife there, and I can soon put you out of the way with that.”
“Hold on, Murphy; that won’t do,” said Parker. “Get back on your horse and let him go.”
“If I don’t kill him somebody else will,” said the soldier, very much disappointed to Page 365 hear this order. “He is good for all the men who can get around him. See that?” he added, sticking the muzzle of his carbine into the warrior’s face.
The brave proved that if his legs were shot through his hands were all right, for he seized the gun and tried to draw the soldier toward him. If he had got him within reach of the knife he held in his hand, he would have struck him down without mercy.
“Don’t you think he ought to be killed after that?” inquired Murphy.
“We are not here to make war upon crippled Indians,” said Lieutenant Parker decidedly. “Disarm him and let him go.”
Now, to Carl it seemed as if it was a matter of some importance to take away the Indian’s knife. One of his race, when he becomes frightened and can run, gets as frightened as anybody; but when he is wounded so badly that he is brought to a standstill, he becomes really a dangerous foe. He will fight as long as he has strength left to draw a weapon. The soldier advanced toward him, but his knife was raised in the most threatening manner. Page 366 But Murphy was equal to the emergency. In an instant his carbine was poised in the air; the blow descended, beating down the Indian’s guard and landing with its full force on his unprotected head. He was stretched out as dead, apparently, as any of the Indians that surrounded him. His muscles grew rigid, he sank back upon the ground, and the eyes which had gazed so ferociously at his assailant became glazed.
“Well, you have killed him now, at all events,” said the lieutenant in disgust.
“Oh no, sir,” said Murphy. “It takes more than one little whack like that to kill an Indian. He will come out all right. Here’s his knife, sir—as a present from me,” he continued, taking off his hat and giving the weapon to Parker. “Hold on a minute and I will get you his scabbard.”
The Indian was too far gone to make any resistance as he took the sheath and belt off, and presenting them to Lieutenant Parker, he mounted his horse and rode back with him to the camp.
“Hurry up there, sir. The colonel is anxious to get all his men in. We are going to have a blizzard.”
It was Colonel Forsyth’s bugler who hailed them. He was going over the field in a gallop, blowing his trumpet as he went, in hope of getting his men all in camp before the storm struck them. The lieutenant stopped in surprise and looked all around him. Sure enough, there was a blizzard coming. The air was filled with fine snow which he had not noticed before; and, now that he began to get over his excitement, he found that his summer blouse afforded him but a poor protection against the wind that was blowing. They put their horses into a lope in obedience to the order; but, fast as they went, Lieutenant Parker took notice of the havoc that was done by the Hotchkiss guns during the twenty Page 368 minutes that the fight continued. He saw that there were about as many women dead as there were men, and that some of them held repeating rifles in their hands.
“That beats me,” said he, in profound astonishment. “The squaws meant to fight, too.”
“You will always find that the case when troops attack a home camp,” said Carl. “Some of these women are wounded. They will freeze to death during this blizzard.”
“That fight was a massacre and nothing else,” said Parker in disgust. “Why could not the women have kept out of the way?”
“Well, I suppose every man on our side was thinking ‘Remember Custer’ while that fight took place, sir,” said Murphy, in a tone which showed that he did not care anything for the Indians, so long as they were dead. “I know I did, and I don’t believe that any Sioux that I pulled on got away.”
The wind continued to increase in fury—so much so that the notes of the bugle from the trumpeter who had warned them, and which he continued to blow at intervals, came Page 369 but faintly to their ears. Lieutenant Parker was getting cold, but he did not say a word about it. His overcoat was left on the ground where the cavalry began its charge, and if the colonel did not have anything further for him to do he would be glad to put that overcoat on. When they arrived within sight of Colonel Forsyth’s headquarters they found that the men who had been recalled by the sound of the bugle were busy tearing down the tents and carrying them into the ravine out of reach of the blizzard, and the rest were working like beavers to take their dead and wounded comrades to the same place of refuge. The officers were working with the men, and if they said anything at all, it was to urge those who were laboring with them to hurry a little faster.
“You are just the man I wanted to see, Parker,” said his colonel, as he galloped up. “Hitch your horses there in the gully, and then you and Murphy get a stretcher and bring in every man who lost his life during that fight. Be in a hurry, now, for we don’t want to leave them out in this wind.”
“Carl, you go and get our overcoats and bring one for Murphy,” said Parker, as they rode away to obey this order. “We can’t work fast enough to keep warm in this wind.”
“The colonel wants us to bring in every man who lost his life during the fight,” said Carl. “He did not say anything about the Indians, did he?”
“Nary time, sir,” said Murphy, indignantly. “The Indians brought it all on themselves, and they can stay there and freeze to death for all the colonel cares.”
“Another thing,” said the lieutenant—“have you forgotten what that warrior did back there on the prairie? Some of the wounded may have a knife or a rifle, you know, and it would not be safe to go near them.”
In a few minutes all our three friends, with their heavy overcoats and gauntlet gloves on, were working hard to bring the bodies of their comrades to the ravine where they would be out of the way of the blizzard, and as fast as the men came in they were dispatched to help them. The lieutenant was astonished when he Page 371 saw how the Indians had used their revolvers at the beginning of the fight. They had their pistols and knives hidden under their blankets. Every one of them went in armed, and that was the reason they did so much damage. Some of the Indians and soldiers were almost touching each other, having fired their guns when so close together that their garments were fairly burned with the powder, and of course it was not possible for one to miss so large a mark at that distance. The soldiers did not seem to care a cent for the presence of the officers who were on the spot to superintend their operation. If they took hold of a soldier to place him on a stretcher and an Indian was in the way, they kicked him roughly aside, as they would have done with any other rubbish. The officers noticed it but did not say anything; and as long as they ranked Parker, he did not feel called upon to say anything, either.
“If I had my way they would treat brave men with a little more respect than that,” said Parker, as they picked up a soldier who had been placed upon the stretcher and started Page 372 for the ravine with him. “If those men had not been brave they would not have killed so many of our fellows.”
“Humph!” muttered Murphy. “They were fighting for their homes, you know, sir. Plague take all their homes. They have got a reservation, and why don’t they go there and stay upon it? If all the soldiers could have their way, there would not be one left on the prairie.”
Lieutenant Parker was beginning to feel as Carl, the Trailer, did while he was explaining the Ghost Dance to him. He felt that the Indians had been abused, and wished there was some way in which the matter could be arranged to everybody’s mutual satisfaction. But then it would have been of no use to argue the case with Murphy. Like all soldiers he had his own opinion, and he would keep on having it until all the Indians had been wiped out.
At last, when the blizzard was at its height and the soldiers could scarcely see which way to go, the bugle called them in; and when they got into the ravine all the tents were up, Page 373 and the property they had left on the field when they began their charge was there under cover. It was delightful to feel the fire once more. Their overcoats were frozen stiff, and it was a long time before they got thawed out again. The storm lasted three days, and a severe one it was, too. A soldier would scarcely stick his head out of his tent before he was glad to get back by the fire again. Some of the wounded soldiers died during this time, and with everyone who breathed his last among his comrades fierce maledictions went up on all Indians who were left on the plains.
“I have always said ‘Remember Custer’ when I went into an engagement of this kind,” said an old soldier, wiping the tears from his eyes and turning to Lieutenant Parker, who had come into the hospital tent just in time to see a wounded man breathe his last, “but from now on I shall yell ‘Remember Simpson.’ He met his death like a brave man.”
“Was he shot?” asked Parker, who knew he ought to say something to show that he sympathized with the soldier.
“No, sir. He shot that brave down, and thought he had him sure enough; but he had a knife, with which he struck Simpson in the side. My rifle was loaded, and I will bet you he did not hurt anybody after that. Oh yes, I shall always remember Simpson.”
On the morning of the fourth day after the blizzard the sun rose bright and clear, and the work of burying the dead Indians began. All hands were turned out for that purpose. Some dug a ditch large enough to hold them all, and the rest were sent out to gather up the men, women and children, some lying at least two miles away, and bring them to the grave. The unfeeling soldiers dumped them into the trench like so many sticks of wood, while Lieutenant Parker and Carl stood by with their hands clenched and their teeth shut firmly against each other. If Parker had been in command of that squad they would have handled the Indians with much more respect.
The lieutenant noticed that more than half the Indians were stripped when they arrived at the trench; but the officers, although they Page 375 saw it, did not make any remark. What the soldiers wanted as much as anything else was to secure the ghost shirts on which so much depended, and these they had taken off when they first found the Indians and stowed away under their overcoats. He gave up all hope of getting one of these ghost shirts; but that night, when the officers were all in their tents preparing to smoke, after supper, Carl came to the door and called him out. He went, and was presented with one of the ghost shirts that the medicine man had blessed, and which was to render the soldiers weak and powerless.
“I knew you would not have a chance to get one with those officers all around you, and so I went off and got this myself,” said Carl. “See there. That is the place where the bullet went in, and you can see how much resistance the shirt offered to it. He might as well have gone into the fight with nothing on at all.”
The next day this work was done and the Indians were buried; but the work of the cavalry was not yet over. They were ordered Page 376 away in haste to help a company of buffalo soldiers (negroes) who were coming into the agency with a train load of supplies. But this fight did not last long. The cavalry charged the Indians as soon as they caught sight of them, and ran them off to the hills. They did not lose a man, but the Sioux lost four warriors and several ponies. And so it was during the three weeks they stayed there, and it was not until January that they received orders to go to the fort.
“I have learned something since I have been here,” said the lieutenant, when the soldiers were fairly under way to go to their post. “I did not know why they called this battle ‘Wounded Knee,’ but now I know. There is an agency a few miles up the creek called Wounded Knee, and it is situated on a stream of the same name. Everything is Wounded Knee up this way.”
“Say, Parker, I will tell you what I have been thinking of for the last few days,” said Carl. “Do you think you behaved yourself in that fight so that the colonel will give you leave of absence for a week?”
“What are you up to?” asked Parker, who knew that Carl had made up his mind to go somewhere, and that he wanted the lieutenant to go with him. “Where are you going?”
“I am going out to my house to see how the fellows there came out during the war,” said Carl. “They don’t know that the war is ended, and there may have been some raiders who went up to the ranch from Standing Rock Agency.”
“I’ll ask the colonel,” said Parker, who was delighted with the thought of being free from all military duty for the time he had mentioned. “I have been here eighteen months, and I have never asked for a furlough. I think he will let me go.”
“Well, when we get back to the fort we will wait a little while until the excitement dies out, and when I tip you the wink, you go and see him.”
But Carl did not wait as long as he thought he was going to. On the next night but one they came within sight of the stockade, and Carl was thunderstruck and alarmed, too, when one of the officers pointed out to him a large Page 378 herd of cattle that were feeding close by the fort. Something told him whose cattle those were, and it took him but a few minutes to ride up and look at the brand on their flanks. The herd belonged to him, but he could not see signs of any herdsmen who had come there with them.
“Those are some of my cattle,” said he to Parker when he rode up beside him, “but how in the world did they come down here? That captain the colonel left here to command the post during his absence is a brick. He has some of the teamsters and soldiers out there to see that they don’t stray away. I am going home this very night.”
“Not alone, are you?” said Parker, becoming alarmed in his turn. “You may find some Indians there who have left your ranch a pile of ruins.”
“I have to go, at any rate. I will speak to the colonel before I leave. If he has a mind to send a company of men out there with me——”
“Ask for Company D,” said Parker.
“It isn’t likely that he will give me a Page 379 chance to ask for any company, but I shall be glad to have one.”
Carl rode off to hunt up the colonel, who had by this time dismounted in front of his quarters, who listened in surprise when he told him of the discovery he had made. He did not hesitate a minute, but called to his adjutant to start off Company D, as soon as they had time to refresh themselves and horses, to see what had been going on at Carl’s ranch.
“It is a pity, Carl, that they took this time to raid you,” said the colonel. “But I will do what I can to get your cattle back and punish the fellows who had a hand in it.”
“It is all right,” said Carl, who was sitting on his horse at the rear of the column. “You will get your orders in a few minutes.”
“Bully for the colonel,” said Parker, never once turning his eyes toward the speaker.
Company D was drawn up in line all ready to be dismissed, but the adjutant ordered them a few paces to the front and directed them to move off on the right and come to a front again. The line closed up and the Page 380 other companies broke ranks, and then the adjutant repeated the colonel’s order, after which this company was also dismissed, and started to take their horses to the stable.
“What’s up, sir?” whispered Murphy.
“Those are my cattle out there, and we are going up to see what has become of those fellows who had charge of them,” said Carl, who did not speak as he usually did. “I am afraid the Sioux have bounced them.”
“Whoopee!” said Murphy. “Here goes for another fight with the Indians!”
Carl was very much depressed when he went into the teamsters’ quarters to get his supper. The men wanted to talk about the battle, but Carl wanted some information about his cattle. How long had they been there? Did anybody come with them? And did they run as though they were very much frightened about something? The teamsters answered these questions as well as they could, but they were certain about two things: nobody had been seen with the cattle when they came up, and they were running as though they had made up their minds not to stop until they reached the Mississippi River. But they were easily controlled, and the men who had been sent after them had no trouble at all in driving them back to the fort.
“Now, Carl, tell us something more about Page 382 the fight,” said one of the teamsters. “How did Lieutenant Parker behave, any way?”
“He acted as though there was not an Indian within a hundred miles of him,” answered Carl with animation. “He let his horse take his own way, and never stopped until we were a mile away from the camp.”
“Did he kill any Indians?”
“Every time I saw him pull on an Indian, he dropped. But he saved one Sioux from being killed, and that’s one thing I didn’t like about him.”
While Carl was engaged in telling this story about the Indian who was shot through both legs and had a knife left with which to defend himself, the bugle sounded, and that was something that Carl delighted to hear. He hurried out to get his horse, and when he came back the men were all drawn up in line and the captain was listening to some parting instructions from the colonel.
“If you see any signs of the Sioux out there, you will follow them up until you are certain that they go on their reservation,” said he. “Carl, I hope it is not as bad as you think,” Page 383 he added, turning to the young scout, who came up at that moment. “A boy who behaved as you did in the fight don’t deserve to have his ranch raided. Good luck to you.”
In a few minutes more the column, headed by Carl and the captain, were out of the gate, and the darkness shut them out from view. For miles they travelled at a fast walk, and not a word was said by anybody in the ranks. Finally Carl, who had been watching his horse for some time, stopped his own nag and reached out and touched the captain on the shoulder. There was somebody coming, and he was coming fast, too. In a few seconds more he caught sight of two or three hats which were bobbing back and forth in front of the horizon, and in response to the captain’s challenge they hauled up very suddenly.
“Halt! Who comes there?” asked the captain.
“Halt yourself,” answered a voice; and Carl was almost ready to yell when he recognized that Thompson was speaking to them. “You are soldiers, ain’t you? Have you seen any cattle down this way?”
“Thompson!” cried Carl.
“Well, I declare; if there ain’t Carl,” said Thompson, so delighted that he could scarcely speak. “Where have you been?”
“I have been in a fight, but I am all here yet,” said Carl, riding forward to shake his men by the hand. “How did those cattle manage to get away from you?”
“You have been in a fight, have you?” said Thompson, so overjoyed to see Carl again that he could hardly let him go. “Well, you haven’t been in any worse one than we have. We’ve killed nine Indians, and have a prisoner up there to show you.”
“A prisoner? Who is it?”
“It is Harding—that is who it is. He came out to the ranch with twenty-five Indians to gather up some stock, and we were too many for him. He stampeded some of the cattle, but we whipped the Indians and drove them away.”
“That is the same thing he proposed to me while I was a prisoner,” said Carl, turning to the captain. “I knew that if I gave him an order on Thompson for the stock he would be Page 385 killed when he presented it. Well, he helped me to escape once, and you can help him this time.”
“Not by a long shot!” exclaimed the captain. “General Miles has ordered every soldier in his department to arrest that fellow, and he will have to go to the fort with me.”
“That is what I say, captain,” said Thompson. “He tried to rob our safe, too.”
“We will go back to the fort now and report to the colonel,” added the captain. “If he chooses to send us up there to-morrow, why we will get him. What are you going to do with your men, Carl?”
“They will go to the fort with us and be ready to come back with the cattle to-morrow. The soldiers and teamsters rounded them up for you, and I guess they are all there,” he continued, addressing himself to Thompson. “I am surprised at you,” he continued, when the captain had brought the men around and headed them toward the fort. “I am sorry I told you so much.”
“Now, Carl, see here,” said Thompson, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. “You Page 386 need not have him captured unless you want to.”
“How shall we prevent it? The colonel will send some men to the ranch to-morrow, and when they get their hands on him he is booked for the military prison at Leavenworth.”
“Look here,” said Thompson, lowering his voice so that no one but Carl could hear it. “I have six men with me, and how does this captain know but I have a hundred? Send Bert back and tell him to escape. I’ll bet you that they won’t see him after that.”
It would seem from this that Carl kept the ranchmen posted on everything that happened to him at the fort. When he came home after his captivity among the Sioux, he told them all that occurred to him—how Harding had threatened to shoot him because of the death of Sitting Bull, but had suddenly grown merciful to him when he saw that the Indians were determined to have revenge on him, and how he had assisted him to keep out of their way. Thompson felt kinder toward Harding after that, and so did all the herdsmen; Page 387 and when they found that Carl was anxious to have him escape, there was not one man who had a word to say against it.
“Well, go and tell Bert to come here,” said Carl, after thinking a moment. “You know what sort of a guard he is under, don’t you? Now you tell him how you will arrange it.”
Thompson reined in his horse, and was gone but a few moments when he rode up again with Bert at his side. In a few whispered words he told Bert just what he had to do, and he understood it. He was pulling up his horse to let the column get a little in advance of him, when Carl said earnestly:
“Tell him that this is the last time I shall befriend him. He helped me to escape once when I stood a chance of being staked out, and now I have paid him back. If he ever gets into trouble with the soldiers again, he will have to stand the result of his misdeeds.”
The captain did not know how many men were with Thompson, and consequently he did not miss one of their number, who was going at his best pace toward the ranch to warn the squawman that the soldiers were Page 388 coming to-morrow to arrest him. As Thompson had said, “You would not see him very much after that.” If he once got out of that ranch and felt a good horse under him, he would kill him before he would ever be found in that department again.
The column pursued their way at an easy gait, and when they came within sight of the cattle, Thompson and his men went down to relieve the teamsters and soldiers who had been keeping guard over them, and the rest rode on into the fort. Some few of the teamsters were awake as Carl went in, and wanted to know all about it; but the young scout told them that the Sioux had been whipped, and had made their way back to their reservation.
The next morning Carl arose at an early hour, but his cattle were nowhere in sight. Thompson had routed his men up as soon as they could see their way clearly, and had started the cattle back toward home. Carl now wanted to see the colonel. He wanted to know if there was anything for him to do, otherwise he desired to go home and look after things there. But the colonel did not Page 389 appear until near breakfast time; then, the captain having made his report to him, he sent for Carl. He said that he was perfectly willing that Carl should go and stay as long as he wanted to, but that Harding must be brought back.
“Your men have got him where they can hold him, have they?” asked the commander. “He is a mighty slippery fellow, and if he sees the least chance to get away he is going to improve it. I had him here in the fort once, and how he got away beats me. I will send a sergeant and four men with you to take him.”
“Very good, sir,” said Carl. He did not say that the men would find him there, for he was quite sure they would not. He waited until the men got ready and then mounted his horse, which he had ridden during the fight, and started off on the trail of the cattle. In about three hours they overtook them. Thompson was bringing up the rear, and his face was all wrinkled up with smiles when he caught sight of the sergeant and four soldiers.
“Say,” said he, “when you get that fellow Page 390 I want you to hold fast to him. This is the second time he has bothered me, and I ain’t agoing to put up with it much longer.”
They had a long way to go, and late in the afternoon they came within sight of the ranch. There was no one there to receive them, but Carl did not mind that. He showed the soldiers where to put their horses, for they were going to stay with him all night, and then led the way into the hall.
“I suppose you want to see Harding the first thing you do,” said he. “Well, he is in the office here——Why, what in the world does this mean?”
He had come to the door of the office, but it was wide open. The key was on the outside, and the window was open, too. There was the shakedown in which the squawman had spent the first night of his captivity, but that was the only thing they saw of him.
“He has escaped!” said Carl; and one, to have seen him, would have thought that it was a matter that crushed him completely.
“Yes, sir, he has escaped,” said the cook, who, hearing the sound of their footsteps in Page 391 the hall, had come in from the kitchen to see what was the matter, “and I would like to know if anybody ever got away under such circumstances before. We had one man outside here in the hall, and another out by the window. They were cautioned to look out for him, for he was like an eel—a hard fellow to hold. Well, sir, that man outside went away for about five minutes, and when he came back the window was open and Harding was gone. He took Thompson’s best horse, too.”
“Well, that lets us off,” said the sergeant, looking around at the soldiers. “Can’t we follow him up and catch him?”
“No,” said the cook. “Don’t I tell you that he has the best horse on the ranch? Some of the men are out now looking for him. He didn’t take to the prairie, but concealed himself in the mountains. He won’t come out till he gets among his friends.”
The cook spoke so earnestly, and seemed so disgusted over Harding’s escape, that the sergeant never thought to blame him for it. If the truth must be told, he was the man who brought the horse and tied him to the bushes Page 392 in the yard so that the squawman could readily find him, and he stood in his door and saw Harding leap out of the window, mount the nag, and ride away in the darkness. Some of the men were indeed out, but they were not looking for Harding. They were attending to the cattle.
“I think we will go back and report to the colonel,” said the sergeant, after meditating a few moments. “He ought to know that he ain’t going to get the man.”
And we may add that this was the last adventure that befell Carl while he stayed at the fort. The troops never suspected Carl, and neither did they ever see Harding again. What became of him after that nobody knew. Of course the soldiers were all on the lookout for him, but he disappeared completely. And we may go further, and say that no one on the ranch ever heard of Claude again. A young man with such habits as his don’t often turn out to be anybody in the world. If he keeps such company as the two men who attempted to rob Carl of his money, he is probably in State’s prison before this time.
The sergeant and all the soldiers were surprised and perplexed over the escape of Harding, and when the horses had had a rest and the men had eaten their supper they set out for the fort. The men stood on the porch and saw them go; and when they had got out of sight the cook turned to Carl, laid one finger alongside his nose, and winked first one eye and then the other. If the sergeant had seen that motion he might have been led to suspect something.
Carl, the Trailer, remained at home for a week, and when he started for the fort again he took a big load from Thompson’s mind by telling him that he had seen all the scouting he wanted to see, and that in a few days he was coming home to remain.
“There is no more fight in the Sioux, for, now that Sitting Bull has gone and Big Foot was killed during that fight, there will be no one to take command of them,” said Carl. “But first I want to bring the lieutenant up here, to let him see how I live when I am at home. I will come back in a week or two, and I shall never go away again.”
The men were all glad to hear that piece of news, and when Carl returned in company with the lieutenant, they extended to him a hearty welcome; for Carl had told his herdsmen how he behaved in that fight with the Sioux, and they were glad to shake a brave man by the hand.
“I don’t see why you wanted to leave this nice place, where you have everything just as you want it, and come down to the fort to go scouting,” said Parker, when he had been shown about the ranch, and supper was over and the men had gathered on the porch. “If I had a ranch like this I would resign in a minute. I never would go on another hunt after Indians.”
That was what his men all said, and they were glad to welcome him home. Carl still lives on the plains, but he does not go down to the fort as much as he used to. Time has made changes, and there are but few officers left who knew him as Carl, the Trailer. Parker has now become a captain, and has been ordered to the coast. He keeps up a regular correspondence with Carl; and of all Page 395 the stories he has to tell to his younger officers, there are none that he takes so much delight in as those in which the young scout was engaged. The Ghost Dance is a thing of the past. It has never been heard of since Yellow Bird caught up that handful of dust and threw it into the air, which started the massacre of Wounded Knee.
The End