by Charles King
CHAPTER VIII.
LOYAL FRIENDS.
It was on Friday morning, at daybreak, that the desertion of TrumpeterWaller was reported to Lieutenant Blunt. It was Friday night that thetelegrams were sent to Laramie and that Charlton's letter left by stage.It was Saturday afternoon just before parade that the mail wasdistributed at Fort Sanders; and that very evening, before Major Edwardshad received and had time to read his letter from the West, thesergeant had started on his long and fatiguing journey. All night longin sleepless misery he sat in a corner of the caboose, occasionallyrising and tramping unsteadily to and fro. At Cheyenne a delay of halfan hour occurred, and he left the train and paced restlessly up and downthe platform under the freight sheds. He dared not go down to thelighted offices and the crowded passenger station just below him. Itseemed as though everyone knew of Fred's story by this time. He couldsee the gleam of forage-cap ornaments and the glint of army buttonsamong the people at the depot, and knew there were several officers andsoldiers there. Never before had he known what it was to shrink fromfacing any man on earth; but to-night, though he almost starved forfurther news from his boy, he could not bring himself to meet them andask.
Along toward morning, at Pine Bluffs, a herdsman got aboard, and what hehad to say was of startling interest. Hitherto the Indian war partieshad kept well to the north of the Platte, "but" said he, "ever sinceFriday the Sidney road has been swarming with them--both sides of theriver--and they are killing everything white they can lay their handson."
"My God!" thought Waller, "and Fred must be in the very midst of them.Better so," he added, "if indeed he can be guilty." The herder hadevidently been sorely frightened by all he heard, and he was hurrying toSidney to join a party of cattle-men who were camping there. He had beendrinking too, and took more and more as the night wore on, and becamemaudlin in his talk. It was nine o'clock on Sunday morning when theyreached Sidney station, and the first thing that old Waller saw was astrong concord wagon with a four-mule team and an army driver. Twoinfantry soldiers with their rifles and girt with cartridge-belts werestanding close at hand. Two officers were stowing their rifles insidethe wagon, and an orderly was strapping the tarpaulin over the lightluggage in the "boot." One of the officers the sergeant knewinstantly--an aid-de-camp of the commanding general. The other was olderin years and bore on his cap the insignia of the staff. The youngerofficer saw him before he could step into the office, and SergeantWaller knew it--knew too, with the quickness of thought, that he hadheard of Fred's disappearance and presumable crime. He could have shrunkfrom meeting his superiors in the shadow of this bitter sorrow anddisgrace. Even while he could not accept the belief that his boy wasactually a deserter and a thief, he knew full well what other men mustthink. But Captain Cross was a cavalryman himself, and had known oldWaller for years. He dropped his rifle, came straight forward, and tookhim by the hand.
"Sergeant, I don't believe it of your boy; I've known his father toolong," was all he said, as he pressed the veteran's hand. Poor oldWaller, worn with anguish, long vigil, and utter lack of food of anykind, was now so weak that he could only, with the utmost difficulty,choke back the sobs that shook his frame. Speak he dare not; he wouldhave broken down. Cross led him to the lunch room at the station andmade him swallow a cup of coffee, then gently questioned him as to whathe knew.
"We go at once to Red Cloud--Colonel Gaines and I--and maybe on theroad I shall hear something of him. Sergeant, rest assured your sonshall have fair play," said the aid-de-camp, as he was about to turnaway.
"But, captain--I beg pardon, sir," broke in Waller hurriedly, in almostthe first words he had spoken. "Where is your escort? Surely you won'ttake this route without one?"
"There isn't a trooper at Sidney, sergeant. We have a couple ofinfantrymen in the wagon and another on a mule. That's the best we cando, and we've got no time to spare. We must be at Red Cloud to-morrow,and this is the shortest line."
"But, sir, haven't you heard? The Sioux are out in force and all alongthe road, both above and below the Platte. There's a herder on the trainwho told us. He got aboard at Pine Bluffs this morning."
"I can hardly believe that," answered Cross. "Captain Forrest with theGrays is scouting south of Red Cloud. Captain Wallace was ordered towatch the fords along the Platte on this line; Captain Charlton isout--or at least the whole troop has been, and there are three more.Surely Major Edwards would know over at the barracks, if the Indianswere anywhere between us and the river,--we'll get an escort fromCaptain Wallace the other side,--but he has not heard a word."
"But I beg the captain to hear what the man says, sir," urged SergeantWaller. "He's been drinking, but he tells the same story, practically,that he told us when he got aboard. Let me find him, sir."
And find him he did, even more maudlin and thick-tongued by this time,and evidently determined to make the most of his dramatic story for thebenefit of the two officers and swarm of interested lookers-on. He onlysucceeded in inspiring the colonel with mingled incredulity and disgust.
"I don't believe a word of it," he said to Captain Cross. "And we arelosing valuable time. We must start at once."
An hour later this peaceful Sabbath morning, the sergeant stood, cap inhand, before Major Edwards on the veranda of his pleasant quarters. Twopretty children were playing with a big, shaggy, lazy staghound, pullinghis ears and tormenting him in various ways; a pleasant-faced lady cameforth, sunshade and prayer book in hand, and at sight of her the littleones reluctantly rose and bade good-by to their four-footed friend, andthe party started slowly away across the green parade to the postchapel, nodding and smiling to the spruce orderly, who stoodrespectfully aside to let them pass. Mrs. Edwards glanced quickly andsympathetically into the sergeant's sad face as he stood there beforeher husband's easy-chair. She knew well what it all meant, but there wasnothing for her to say. Small parties of infantry officers and of ladiesand children joined them on the way to the humble wooden sanctuary; thesoft notes of the bugle were sounding church call; a warm gentle breezefrom the southern plains stirred the folds of the big flag; the sunshinewas joyous and brilliant, and all spoke of peace, order, andcontentment. Yet there stood Waller with almost bursting heart; andyonder, only a few miles across the grassy ridge to the north, rode thatlittle party of officers and men to almost certain death.
The major looked up as he finished reading the letter placed in hishands.
"I have no words to tell you of my sympathy and sorrow, sergeant. Ofcourse you know my plain duty in the matter. The sheriff has beennotified, and two of his deputies already have gone out to search. Hewould hardly be mad enough to come anywhere near us, if guilty. But ifhe is taken he will be held here under my charge, and I will see thatyou have every proper opportunity of visiting him. The adjutant tells meyou had heard something of the Indians being south of the Platte. Whatwas it?"
"A man who boarded our train at the Bluffs, sir. He claimed to have hadto ride hard for his life yesterday afternoon, and that there werescores of the Sioux this side of the river. I took him to Colonel Gainesand Captain Cross, sir; but the man had been drinking so much that theydistrusted him entirely. They left the station before I started for thebarracks, sir."
The major sat thoughtfully gazing out across the parade a moment; thenanswered:
"We have had no rumors of anything of the kind, and they would be almostsure to come this way to us, if anyone heard of such stories. There areno settlers along the road, after leaving the springs, out here untilyou reach the Platte. I can hardly believe it, but we'll see what canbe got from the man when he sobers up. Now the sergeant-major will gowith you to the quarters, and I will see you later in the day."
But later in the day that promise was forgotten in an excitement of fargreater magnitude.
