Warrior Gap: A Story of the Sioux Outbreak of '68.

by Charles King

  CHAPTER VII.

  Lieutenant Dean's orders required that he should march his troop withoutunnecessary delay to Fork Emory, there to take station relieving Troop"F," ordered to change to Frayne, which meant, in so many words, to takethe field. Captain Brooks, still wrestling with the fever, had retiredto his quarters at the old frontier fort that stood so long on thebluffs overlooking the fords of the Platte. The surgeon said he mustremain in bed at least a week, so meantime the troop packed up, sent itswagons ahead over the range, bade God speed to "F" as it passed through_en route_ to the front, exchanged a volley of chaff and chewing tobaccoover the parting game of "freeze out" fought to a finish on many anoutspread saddle blanket, then, jogged on toward Gate City, making wide_detour_ at the suggestion of the field officer in command at Frayne,that they might scout the Laramie plains and see that all was well atFolsom's ranch. This _detour_ was duly reported to the peppery veteranat Fort Emory, an old colonel whose command was by this time reducedfrom "headquarters, field, staff and band," six companies of infantryand four troops of cavalry, to the band and two desperately overworkedcompanies of foot. "Two nights in bed" were all his men could hope for,and sometimes no more than one, so grievous was the guard duty. Hence"old Pecksniff," his adjutant and quartermaster and his two remainingcompanies saw fit to take it as most unkind in Lieutenant-Colonel Fordto authorize that diversion of Dean's, and highly improper on Dean'spart to attempt it. By this time, too, there was in circulation at Emorya story that this transfer of "C" to interior lines and away fromprobable contact with the Sioux was not so much that it had done farmore than its share of that arduous work, completely using up itscaptain, as that, now the captain was used up, the authorities had theirdoubts as to the "nerve" of the lieutenant in temporary command. Afellow who didn't care to come to Emory and preferred rough duty upalong the Platte must be lacking in some essential particular, thoughtthe women folk, and at the very moment that Marshall Dean sat there atHal Folsom's ranch, as brave and hardy and capable a young officer asever forded the Platte, looking forward with pleasurable anticipationsto those days to come at Emory, with Jessie--Jessie and, of course,Pappoose--so close at hand in town, there was gaining ground at the postan impression that the safety of the board of officers sent to choosethe site of the new Big Horn post had been imperiled by Dean's weakeningat a critical moment in presence of a band of probably hostile Sioux.Burleigh had plainly intimated as much to his chief clerk and ColonelStevens, and when Loring and Stone came through a day or two later andquestions were asked about that meeting, the aide-de-camp gave it asdistinctly to be understood that he had practically assumed command,Dean's inexperience being manifest, and his own prompt measures hadextricated the little detachment from a most delicate and dangerousposition. The engineer, let it be said, did not hear this statement, andthe aid was very careful not to make it in his presence. He was acomparative stranger and as no one presumed to question him, hevolunteered no information.

  Planning to bivouac until dawn of the next day at Folsom's, Dean hadthen intended to reach Fort Emory in three easy marches. He was anxiousto bring his horses in in best possible condition, despite all theirhard service; yet now, barely two o'clock on this hot June afternoon,came most unlooked-for, most importunate interruption to his plans.Springing to the gate at the sergeant's summons, he first directed hisgaze to the distant peak, recognized instantly the nature of the smokepuffs there rising, then turned for explanation to the swift-ridingcourier, whose horse's heels were making the dust fly from the sun-driedsoil. One or two ranch hands, with anxious faces, came hastening overfrom the corral. The darkey cook rushed up from the kitchen, rifle inhand. Plainly these fellows were well used to war's alarms. Mrs. Folsom,with staring eyes and dreadful anxiety in her face, gazed only at thehurrying courier, clinging the while to the pillar of the portico, asthough needing support. The smoke puffs on the mountain, the dust-cloudback of the tearing rider were symptoms enough for Dean.

  "Get in your herd, sergeant!" he shouted at the top of his voice; andover the rushing of the Laramie his words reached the rousing bivouac,and saddle blankets were sent swinging in air in signal to the distantguards, and within a few seconds every horse was headed for home; andthen, to the sound of excited voices was added the rising thunder ofscores of bounding hoofs, as, all in a dust-cloud of their own, thesixty chargers came galloping in, ears erect, eyes ablaze, nostrilswide, manes and tails streaming in the breeze, guided by their eagerguards full tilt for camp. Out ran their riders, bridles in hand, tomeet and check them, every horse when within a few yards of his masterseeming to settle on his haunches and plow up the turf in the suddeneffort to check his speed, long months of service on the plains and inthe heart of Indian land having taught them in times of alarm or perilthat the quicker they reached the guiding hand and bore, each, hissoldier on his back, the quicker would vanish the common foe. Evenbefore the panting steed of the headlong courier came within hailingdistance of the ranch, half the horses in the troop were caught and thebits were rattling between their teeth; then, as the messenger torealong the gentle slope that led to the gateway, his wearied horselaboring painfully at the rise, Mrs. Folsom recognized one of herhusband's herdsmen, a man who had lived long years in Wyoming and couldbe unnerved by no false alarm, and her voice went up in a shriek of fearas she read the tidings in his almost ghastly face.

  "Where is Hal?" she screamed. "Oh, what has happened?"

  "He's safe," was the answering call, as the rider waved a reassuringhand, but at the instant he bent low. "Thank God, you're here,lieutenant," he gasped. "Mount quick. Hal's corralled two miles outthere under the butte--Sioux!" And then they saw that he was swooning,that the blood was streaming down the left thigh and leg, and beforehand could help him, he rolled senseless, doubled up in the dust at hishorse's feet, and the weary creature never even started.

  "Saddle up, men!" rang the order across the stream. And then whilestrong arms lifted and bore the wounded herdsman to the porch, Deanturned to the wailing mistress, who, white-faced and terror-stricken,was wringing her hands and moaning and running wildly up and down thewalk and calling for some one to go and save her husband. Dean almostbore her to a chair and bade her fear nothing. He and his men would losenot a moment. On the floor at her feet lay the little card photograph,and Dean, hardly thinking what he did, stooped, picked it up and placedit in the pocket of his hunting shirt, just as the trumpeter on hisplunging gray reached the gate, Dean's big, handsome charger trottingswiftly alongside. In an instant the lieutenant was in saddle, inanother second a trooper galloped up with his belt and carbine. Alreadythe men were leading into line across the stream, and, bidding thetrumpeter tell Sergeant Shaughnessy to follow at speed, the youngofficer struck spur to his horse and, carbine in hand, a single trooperat his heels, away he darted down the valley, "C" Troop, splashingthrough the ford a moment later, took the direct road past the stockadeof the corral, disappeared from sight a moment behind that woodenfortification, and, when next it hove in view, it was galloping frontinto line far down the Laramie, then once more vanished behind itscurtain of dust.

  "Two miles out there under the butte," was the only indication the youngofficer had of the scene of the fight, for fight he knew it must be, andeven as he went bounding down the valley he recalled the story of theIndian girl, the threats of Burning Star, the vowed vengeance of herbrothers. Could it be that, taking advantage of this raid of Red Cloud,far from all the reservations, far from possibility of detection bycount of prying agents, the three had induced a gang of daring,devil-may-care young warriors to slip away from the Big Horn with themand, riding stealthily away from the beaten trails, to ford the Plattebeyond the ken of watchful eyes at Frayne and sneak through the mountainrange to the beautiful, fertile valley beyond, and there lie in wait forHal Folsom or for those he loved? What was to prevent? Well they knewthe exact location of his ranch. They had fished and sported all aboutit in boy days--days when the soldiers and the Sioux were all goodfriends, days before the mistaken po
licy of a post commander had led toan attack upon a peaceful band, and that to the annihilation of theattacking party. From that fatal day of the Grattan massacre ten yearsbefore, there had been no real truce with the Sioux, and now wasopportunity afforded for a long-plotted revenge. Dean wondered Folsomhad not looked for it instead of sleeping in fancied security.

  A mile nearer the butte and, glancing back, he could see his faithfulmen come bounding in his tracks. A mile ahead, rising abruptly from thegeneral level, a little knoll or butte jutted out beyond the shouldersof the foothills and stood sentinel within three hundred yards of thestream. On the near--the westward--side, nothing could be seen of horseor man. Something told him he would find the combatants beyond--thatdead or alive, Hal Folsom would be there awaiting him. A glance at thecommanding height and the ridge that connected it with the tumbling,wooded hills to the north, convinced him that at this moment some of thefoe were lurking there, watching the westward valley, and by this timethey knew full well of the coming of the cavalry to the rescue. By thistime, more than likely, they were scurrying off to the mountains again,returning the way they came, with a start of at least two miles.

  "With or without the coveted scalps?" he wondered. Thus far he had beenriding straight for the butte. The road wound along and disappearedbehind him, but there was no sense in following the road. "Pursue andpunish," was the thing to be done. Surely not more than a dozen were inthe band, else that courier could never have hoped to get in, wounded ashe was. The Indians were too few in number to dare follow to the ranch,guarded as, by almost God-given luck, it happened to be through theunlooked-for presence of the troops. No, it was a small band, though adaring one. Its lookout had surely warned it by this time of his coming,and by this time, too, all save one or two who rode the fleetest poniesand lingered probably for a parting shot at the foremost of the chase,had scampered away behind the curtain of that ridge. Therefore, in longcurve, never checking his magnificent stride, Dean guided his boundingbay to the left--the northeast--and headed for the lowest point of thedivide.

  And then it all occurred to him too that he was far in front of his men,too far to be of use to them and just far enough to be an easy prey forthe lurking foe. Then, too, it occurred to him that he must not leavethe ranch unprotected. Already he was within long rifle range of theheight; already probably some beady eye was glancing through the sights,and the deadly tube was covering him as he came bounding on. Threehundred yards more and his life probably wouldn't be worth a dollar inConfederate money, and wisely the young leader began to draw rein, and,turning in saddle, signaled to his single companion, laboring along onehundred yards behind, to hasten to join him. Presently the trooper camespurring up, a swarthy young German, but though straining every nervethe troop was still a mile away.

  "Ride back, Wegner, and tell the sergeant to take ten men around thatside--the south side of the bluff," and he pointed with his hand; "therest to come straight to me."

  Oh, well was it for Dean that he checked his speed, and as the youngdragoon went sputtering back, that he himself drew rein and waited forthe coming of his men. Suddenly from far out along the ridge in front,from the very crest there leaped a jet or two of fire and smoke. Twolittle spurts of dust and turf flew up from the prairie sod a dozenyards in front, a rifle bullet went singing off through the sunny air,Rabb, his handsome bay, pawed the ground and switched about, and up onthe crest, riding boldly in full view, two lithe, naked, paintedwarriors, war bonnets trailing over their ponies' croups, yelling shrillinsult and derision, went tearing away northward, one of them pausinglong enough to wave some ragged object on high, and give one ringing,exultant whoop ere he disappeared from view.

  "It's a scalp, lieutenant," shouted the foremost sergeant as he camelunging up to join his chief. "They've got one, anyhow."

  "Come on, then, and we'll get it back," was the only answer, as withnearly thirty troopers stringing out behind them, the two launched outin chase.