by Charles King
CHAPTER XIV.
INNOCENT OR GUILTY.
The provost sergeant at Fort Robinson is a man who has seen and heard agreat deal in the course of his army life, and who has the enviablefaculty of knowing everything that is going on around him, withoutappearing to know anything at all. It had been his duty, a day or twoprevious, to expel from the limits of the reservation a rascally pack ofgamblers--a species of two-legged prairie wolf that in the rough olddays on the frontier followed every movement of the Army paymasters, andlured and trapped the soldiers until every cent of their money was gone.In point of number the gamblers were strong enough to take care ofthemselves in case of Indian attack, yet rarely did they venture farfrom the protection of the nearest troops. Driven out of post andforbidden to return, they had simply camped with their whole "outfit" atthe lower edge of the military reservation, where the laws of the Stateof Nebraska and not the orders of Uncle Sam took precedence. And herethey "set up shop" again, and had a game going in full blast this verysunshiny Sunday morning, and the provost sergeant knew all about it. Healso knew by ten o'clock that Sergeant Dawson and Private Patsy Donovanof Charlton's troop, with some adventurous spirits from the garrison,were down there, "bucking their luck" against the tricks of theseskilled practitioners; and it was not hard to predict what the resultwould be.
"Shall I take a file of the guard and fetch them back, sir?" he askedthe colonel commanding, and that gentleman glanced inquiringly at hiscavalry friend.
"How say you, captain?" Charlton reflected a moment and then replied:
"No, colonel. I should say let them have all the rope they choose totake. I can get them when they are needed. You are sure about theirwhereabouts on Tuesday and Wednesday nights?" he asked, turning to thesergeant.
"Perfectly, sir; and just what they lost and how much they owed thequartermaster's gang when they left."
"Just see where they are at noon then, and let me know," and the provostsergeant went his way, leaving the officers in consultation.
At noon the soldier telegrapher came hurrying to the colonel and handedhim a dispatch.
"I feared as much," said the old soldier as he handed the paper toCaptain Charlton. "This means work for you at once. Let us go to theoffice; there will be dispatches from Omaha presently. Isn't it strangethat no one at Sidney should have heard of the Indians getting over thePlatte?"
At two o'clock Charlton's troop was in saddle, with only three familiarfaces missing from the line. In the new excitement the men had ceased tospeak of Trumpeter Fred. What puzzled them now was the absence of Dawsonand Donovan. A sergeant sent into the garrison, to warn them that thetroop was to march at once, came back to say that he had searched everystable and corral; the horses were nowhere about the post or the Agencystores, and men on guard said that they had seen the two troopers ridingaway down White River soon after one o'clock, and they had not comeback. And when Graham reported them absent to Captain Charlton, as thelatter in his familiar scouting costume rode out to take command, thewhole troop was amazed that their leader seemed to treat it as a matterof no consequence whatever. He returned the sergeant's salute andinquired:
"Every horse fed and watered?"
"Yes, sir."
"Every man got two days' hard bread and bacon?"
"Yes, sir."
"How much ammunition?"
"Eighty rounds carbine per man--twenty revolver, sir."
"Very good, sergeant;" and this brief colloquy ended, the sergeantreined about and rode to the right flank. "Prepare to mount--mount!"ordered the captain. "Form ranks!" and without further delay, "Foursright--march!" and away they went up the lonely valley, along thewinding water, breaking into columns of twos and riding "at ease" themoment they had passed the point where the post commander and a littleknot of officers had assembled to bid them God-speed. Captain Charltonbent down from his saddle to grasp the colonel's extended hand andwhisper a few words in his ear. The colonel nodded appreciatively. "Theycan't escape," he answered low, and then, watched by friendly eyes inthat little group until out of sight, and by fierce and lurking spiesuntil darkness shrouded them from view, the troop rode jauntily on itsmission; Charlton and Blunt in murmured consultation in the lead, andforty-eight stalwart troopers confidently and unquestioningly followingin their tracks. Who cared that an all-night ride through Indian-hauntedwilds was before them? It was an old, old story to every man.
Were there "ghost lights" on the Niobrara that night? The Indian spiescould swear by the deeds of their ancestors that the troop soon climbedout of the valley of the White River and rode briskly southward by theSidney trail, and that every man was in his place in column whenthey wound down in the "Running Water" flats at twilight. Yethours afterward, far to the west, miles away at the Laramiecrossing, there were twinkling, dancing, "firefly" gleams--likewill-o'-the-wisps--through the chinks and loop-holes of that old loghut, and when morning came the ground was stamped with a fresh impressof half a dozen set of hoof tracks--shod horses, not Indian ponies thistime.
It must have meant "bad medicine" for the Sioux, for when morning cameall the bands that had been so confidently raiding the trails throughthe settlements found themselves compelled to seek the shelter of theirreservations. From Laramie to Sidney the stalwart infantry came marchingto the scene, and from east, north, and west the cavalry came trotting,troop after troop, to hem in and head them off. The very band thatventured south of the Platte and killed in cold blood those helplessteamsters, and then sought the destruction of Gaines and his men,fleeing now before Wallace's troops, were met and soundly thrashed byour friends of Company B, with Captain Charlton and Lieutenant Blunt inthe lead, and by Monday night the broad valley was clear of savage foes,the cavalry were resting by their bivouac fires, and then, from the lipsof Captain Wallace, Charlton heard the story of Fred Waller's exploit,and of the long gallop that brought about the rescue of Colonel Gaines.Our captain could hardly wait for morning to come, but in two days morehe was standing by the bedside of his old sergeant at Sidney barracks,and Trumpeter Fred was there too.
One week later, in the big, sunshiny assembly room of the old barrack,an impressive scene took place, and a long remembered though very brieftrial was brought to an abrupt close. A court-martial was in session atSidney; the general who commanded the department had himself arrived tolook into the condition of affairs about the Indian reservation, andwith Captain Charlton had had a long consultation, at the close ofwhich the bearded, kindly-faced brigadier had gone to the hospital withthe troop commander, and bending over old Waller as he lay upon thenarrow cot, took his hand and talked with him about Five Forks andAppomattox, and then promised him that his wish should be respected. Itwas a singular wish--a strange thing for a father to ask. Old SergeantWaller had insisted that his boy should be brought to trial before thecourt-martial then in session, and convicted or acquitted of the doublecharge of theft and desertion that had been lodged against him. In vainCharlton represented to him that it was not necessary, nobody believedthe stories now; the veteran was firm and positive in the stand hemade.
"Everywhere in this department, sir, my boy's name has been held up toshame as a thief and a deserter. There is only one way to clear him; lethim stand trial, prove his innocence, and let us fix the guilt where itbelongs." And Waller was right.
Who that was in the court room that hot August morning, when the southwind blew the dust-cloud into the post and burned the very skin from thebronzed faces around the whitewashed wall, will ever forget the closingincidents of that trial? At the long wooden table sat the nine officerswho composed the court with their gray-haired president at the head,all dressed in their full uniforms, all grave and silent. At the lowerend of the table was the keen, shrewd face of the young judge advocatewho conducted the entire proceedings. On one side of him, quiet,self-possessed, and patient, sat little Fred, neat and trim as a new pinin his faultless fatigue dress. A little behind the boy was his captain,Charlton, and along the wall, at the end of the room, Colonel Gaines,with
his arm still in a sling, and Captain Cross, with his piercingrestless eyes and "fighting face." On the other side of the judgeadvocate stood the chair in which witness after witness had taken hisseat and given his testimony, and now at high noon it was empty, andthe crowd of spectators, sitting in respectful silence around the room,craned their necks and gazed at the doorway in hushed, yet eagercuriosity to see the man whose name had just been passed to the orderly.It was understood that the case for the prosecution depended mainly uponhis evidence.
