by Charles King
CHAPTER XIX.
That night there was rejoicing at the new stockade. For over a week nota courier had managed to slip through in either direction. Alarmed forthe safety of the little garrison, the commanding officer of the postaway up at the gorge of the Big Horn River had sent two troops ofcavalry to scout the slopes of the mountains and look into the state ofaffairs at Warrior Gap. They found countless fresh pony tracks all alongthe foothills east of the Greasy Grass and in the valleys of the manyforks of the Deje Agie--the Crow name for Tongue River--but not anIndian did they see. They marched in among the welcoming officers andmen at the bustling post to find themselves hailed as heroes. "We'vebeen cut off from the world for at least ten days," said the commandant."Our couriers have been killed, captured or driven back. Even ourhalf-breed scouts refuse to make further trial. They say Red Cloud'speople cover the land in every direction. Our woodchoppers only workunder heavy guard. The contractors, freighters and workmen threaten tostrike unless they get their money. The sutler refuses them furthercredit. The quartermaster has paid out every cent and says hisrequisition for ten thousand dollars was ordered filled, and the moneyought to have been here a week ago. All will have to stop if the moneydoesn't come. We're safe enough. The Sioux don't dare come within rangeof our breech-loaders. But we can't finish the barracks in time forwinter at this rate."
A stout-hearted soldier was the commanding officer at Warrior Gap. Hehad with him now four strong companies of infantry and a troop of horse.He had, he said, but one anxiety, so far as holding the fort wasconcerned--some few of the officers and quite a number of the soldiers,as has been told, were burdened with their wives and children. If thesecould only be moved under strong guard to Frayne on the Platte, he couldsnap his fingers in the face of Red Cloud and his whole gang until theytoo got breech-loaders. "It's only a question of time!" said he. "Sooneror later the Interior Department will be fool enough to arm the redskinsall over the land with magazine rifles, and then there will be livelywork for the war office. Any day," said he, further, "we may expect thecoming of a whole regiment from the Platte posts, and then Mr. Lo willhave to light out. Meantime, if we hadn't this trouble about theworkmen, and could get rid of the women and children, we'd be allright."
So back to the Big Horn rode the squadron to report all safe at WarriorGap, barring the blockade, and almost on the same date out there startedfrom Laramie, on the long march up the Platte and over across thesage-covered deserts, a strong force of foot and dragoons; and up fromthe Sweetwater, far to the southwest, came this venturesome little partyof ten, bringing the much-demanded money, and all the while, with hisfar-riding, far-seeing scouts in every direction, Machpealota, perchedin the mountains back of the building post, warily watched thedispositions and daily work, and laid his plans accordingly. Not awarrior was permitted to show himself near the stockade, but in asleepless cordon, five miles out, they surrounded the Gap. Not amessenger had managed to elude their vigilance by day, not one hadsucceeded in slipping into the little camp by night. Yet, with everysucceeding morn the choppers and fatigue parties pushed farther out fromthe stockade, in growing sense of security, and the Indians let themcome.
Full a week before the Laramie column could possibly reach themountains, however, Red Cloud was warned of their coming, their numbers,and composition--so many horse soldiers, so many "heap walks."Unmolested, the squadron from Fort C. F. Smith, the Big Horn River post,was permitted to retrace its steps. In fancied safety, born ofconfidence in that wonderful new breech-loader, the little command atthe Gap was lulled to indifference to their surroundings. Then, sendinglarge numbers of his young men to round up the buffalo toward thePlatte, but keeping still his stern and vengeful eye upon the preyalmost at his feet, the red chief made his final and fatal plans.
* * * * *
There came a cloudless morning when the cavalry troop escorted a youngofficer up the rocky heights to the west, finding everywhere indicationsof recent Indian occupancy, but not a redskin barred their way. Withoutopposition of any kind, without so much as a glimpse of the foe, werethey permitted to climb to Signal Rock, and from that point, withpowerful glasses, the officers swept the glorious range of foothills,the deep valley of the Tongue, the banks of the Piney and the CrazyWoman, the far-spreading upland prairie rolling away like some heavingocean suddenly turned to earth, east and southeast to the dim horizon,and there they saw, or thought they saw, full explanation of theirrecent freedom from alarm of any kind. There to the south, full thirtymiles away, the land was overlaid by a dull, heavy, dun-colored cloud,and traversed by black streaks or blotches that were recognized at onceas running buffalo. Red Cloud and his braves then were drawn away insearch of other game, and, light of heart and foot, the troopers trottedback to the waiting stockade, to meet there late that evening, as theweird tattoo of the drums and fifes was echoing back from the rockyheights, the first messenger through in nearly fifteen days-a half-breedSioux from the distant posts along the Platte, bearing a written messagefrom the commanding officer at Frayne, which the veteran commandant atWarrior Gap read with infinite comfort:
"Seven companies of infantry and three more troops of cavalry are on theway and should reach you by Saturday week. The General seems thoroughlyalive to the situation, and we, too, are hoping for orders to move outand help you give that infernal old scoundrel the thrashing he deserves.All has been quiet hereabouts since that one party made its dash on HalFolsom's ranch. Of course you know the story of Lizette, and of courseRed Cloud must have known that Burning Star was head devil in thatenterprise, though Chaska was the victim. I take much comfort in thefact that it was I who sent young Dean and his troop round by way of theLaramie. Folsom and his people would have been murdered to a man if Ihadn't, and yet I hear that absurd old ass at Emory put Dean in arrestfor not coming directly home. Pecksniff should have been retired tenyears ago--for imbecility.
"We had a tremendous storm in the mountains to the south two days ago,and a courier has just galloped out from Emory, inquiring for news ofDean. It seems he was sent with a big sum in currency for yourquartermaster, and ordered to slip through by way of the Sweetwater, asRed Cloud was known to be covering the direct road. Somehow it leakedout before he started, and a gang of desperadoes gathered to jump him atCanon Springs. The storm jumped them, for two of their dead and a dozenhorses were rolled out on the flats. Dean must have got through allright, for Bat saw their trail fifteen miles above us. Of course, he'llhave to make night marches; but, unless Red Cloud gets wind of hiscoming and corrals him, he should reach you almost as soon as this.Michel, the bearer, has your dispatches and orders. Retained copies arehere. Good luck, old man, and may we meet within the fortnight and windup Red Cloud once and for all time."
This was all, but more than enough. Riding night and day in wide detour,Michel had made his way to the lately beleaguered spot, and what hebrought was joyous news, indeed. Within the coming week the post wouldhave no more to fear. Within a day or two the contractors, then, wouldhave their money, and that would tap the sutler's stores and joy wouldreign supreme. Enviously the soldiers eyed the artisans. Not for weekscould their paymaster be looked for, while the funds for the civiliansmight reach them on the morrow, provided Red Cloud did not interfere. Hecouldn't and wouldn't, said the commander, because he and his braveswere all off to the southeast, hunting buffalo. He could and might, saidMichel that night at ten o'clock, after taps had sent the garrison tobed, for by the time he left Frayne there were other riders up from GateCity and all that garrison had learned that Lieutenant Dean was takingsomething like fifty thousand dollars in greenbacks up to the Gap, withonly ten men to guard it, and Major Burleigh was wild with anxiety lesthe shouldn't get through, and had been nearly crazy since he heard ofDean's narrow escape at Canon Springs. The officer of the day who heardthis story took it, with the teller, to the post commander, and thatveteran sat up late and cross-questioned long. Michel's English might bebroken, but not his statement. The last arrival at Fray
ne before he leftwas one of Major Burleigh's own men from Gate City. He said the Generaland his staff were expected at Emory the next day, investigatingmatters, for old Stevens had got stampeded because his sergeant-majorwas assaulted and old Mr. Folsom knocked out and a drunken captain bythe name of Newhall had been making trouble, and it had all told onMajor Burleigh, who had taken to his bed with nervous prostration.
So, while the garrison went to rest happy, the commanding officer wakedlong, and finally slept soundly and might have slept late, but that justat dawn, full half an hour before the time for reveille, there came asharp knocking at the door of his log-hut, and the imperative voice ofthe officer of the day.
"Colonel! colonel, I say! There's sharp firing out here in the hills tothe south!"
The peaks to the west were just tinging with purple and red, reflectedfrom the eastward sky, and a faint light was beginning to steal downinto the deep valley in which the cantonment lay sleeping, when theveteran commander came hurrying out, half-dressed, and hied him, withhis attendant officer, to the southern angle of the stockade. There onthe narrow ledge or platform built under the sharp tops of the uprightlogs, were grouped the silent, grave-faced guard, a dozen men intentlylistening. Thither presently came running others of the officers or men,suddenly awakened by sense of something unusual going on. Far away amongthe wooded heights to the south, echoing from the rocky palisades to thewest, could be heard the pop, pop of distant musketry, punctuatedsometimes with louder bang as of large caliber rifles closer at hand.Little time was there in which to hazard opinion as to the cause. One ortwo men, faint-hearted at the thought of the peril of Indian battle andhopeful of influencing the judgment of their superiors, began the murmurof "Big hunt," "Buffalo drive," etc., glancing furtively at the colonelthe while as though to observe the effect. But an imperative "Silence,you idiots!" from the officer of the day put sudden end to theirconjectures. Only a moment did the commander listen. Then, quick andstartling, came the order, "Sound to arms!" and within the minute thestirring peal of the cavalry trumpet was answered by the hoarse thunderof the snare-drum, beating the long roll. Out from their "dog tents" andhalf-finished log huts came the bewildered men. Often as the alarm hadsounded on the frontier there was a thrill and ring about it this timethat told of action close at hand. Out from the little huts, hurryinginto their frock coats and belting on their swords as they glared aboutthem for the cause of the uproar, came the officers, old and young, mostof them veterans of many hard-fought fields of the war days--one or two,only, youngsters fresh from the Point. At many a doorway and unglazedwindow appeared the pallid faces of women and children, some of themweeping in mingled fright and distress. In front of the log guardhousethe sergeant quickly formed the two reliefs not on post. On theirdesignated parades the companies rapidly fell in, while stern-voicednon-commissioned officers rebuked the laggards and aided them into theirbelts, and each first sergeant took rapid note of his men. No need tocall the roll, a skulker would have been detected and kicked into theranks at the instant. Over under the rough board shelter of thequartermaster's employees the workmen came tumbling out in shirtsleeves, many of them running to the nearest officer and begging for agun and a place in the fight, for now the firing was loud and lively.Down by the swift-flowing stream the tethered horses of the cavalryplunged and neighed in excitement, and the mules in the quartermaster'scorral set up their irrepressible bray. For five minutes there wasclamor, but no confusion. Then disciplined silence reigned again, allbut the nearing volleying at the south. Presently, at rapid trot thecavalry, some fifty strong, came clattering up the stony trail from thestream, and with carbines advanced disappeared through the main gatewayin a cloud of dust. Two companies were told off to man the loopholes ofthe stockade. Two others under the command of a senior captain faced bythe right flank, and in double-quick time danced away in the wake of thecavalry. Eagerly the watchers climbed the wooden walls or to the towerof the half-finished guardhouse, and, as the red light strengthened inthe east and the mountain sides became revealed, studied with theirglasses or with straining eyes the southward vista through the hills.They saw the troop form line to the front at the gallop as it swept outover the open ground four hundred yards away, saw its flankers scurry tothe nearest shoulder of bluff, saw their excited signals andgesticulations, and presently a sheaf of skirmishers shot forward fromthe advancing line and breasted the low ridge eight hundred yards outfrom the fort, and then there came floating back the sound of ringing,tumultuous cheer as the skirmishers reached the crest and dartedheadlong at some unseen object beyond, and after them went the reserve,cheering too. And now the sound of firing became fierce and incessant,and messengers came galloping back to the commander of the steadilyadvancing infantry, and they, too, were seen to throw forward heavyskirmish lines and then resume the march. And then, down over the ridgecame a little knot of horsemen, made up of three men riding closetogether, the outer ones supporting between them the comrade in thecenter. Before they were within four hundred yards the young adjutant,gazing through his glasses at the colonel's side, exclaimed: "It'sDean--dead or wounded!" and one of the surgeons rushed forward to meetthe party. "He's weak, sir, almost gone from loss of blood," exclaimedTrooper Conroy, himself bleeding from a gash along the cheek. A faintsmile drifted over the young fellow's pallid face, as the adjutant, too,galloped up. A feeble hand indicated the bulging saddle pocket. A faintvoice faltered, "There's ten thousand dollars in that packet. We had tofight our way through," and then the brave blue eyes closed and strongarms lifted the almost lifeless form from the saddle as Marshall swoonedaway.
