by Charles King
CHAPTER XV.
RESCUE AT DAWN.
The short July night wears rapidly away in the high latitudes of theNorthwest. It is barely dark at nine, and in six hours
"Morn, in the white wake of the morning star, Comes furrowing all the Orient into gold."
Yet the night wears wearily, watchfully away in the bivouac down amongthe cottonwoods south of the Black Hills. Exhausted with the excitementand fatigue of the day, some few men sleep fitfully at times, and otherfew doze once in a while among the watchers. All the livelong nightthere is jubilee among the Indians above and below. They keep up theirhowlings and war-dances in prospective triumph, for, so far as they canlearn, they have done no more damage to the soldiers than the killing ofa few horses and the wounding of some half a dozen men. Their own losshas been greater than that, and there is mourning for some of the bravesslain in the combat of the day. They know that escape is impossible tothe soldiers. They feel that with another day they can wear out thebesieged; tempt them into firing off their ammunition, and, if they canonly keep off their friends,--the regiment,--they have them sure.
All the same it is pleasing to Indian ideas of humor to keep up adelusion among the besieged of having captured their messenger. _We_know Ray is safely off, but Wayne and his men have no such comfort, for,for hours the Indians shout their taunts of "Catch white soger; eat 'umheart," and in their deep anxieties many of the men seem ready tobelieve it. To tell the truth, Wayne has hard work keeping up the pluckand spirits of some of the men, and towards morning the sufferings ofthe wounded are more than he can bear. Every little while the roysteringIndians send a rattling fusillade in among the timbers, but do no greatdamage beyond making people uncomfortable. Some of them crawl close tothe lines of sentries, but find nothing to encourage further inspectionor advance. But Dana begs to be lifted in his blanket and carried somedistance up-stream, where he can lie on the sand and get away from thesound of others' suffering, and Wayne and Hunter, with two or three men,bear him thither, and there, under the starlight and the waning moon,they lie at full length and softly talk over the situation. There is nodisguising the truth. Their condition is most precarious: hemmed in onevery side; ammunition almost gone, thanks to the reckless extravaganceof the men in twelve hours' fighting, their only hope lies in Ray'sreaching the --th that night and "routing out" the whole command for adash to the rescue. They never dreamed, poor fellows, that Ray wouldnever find the --th where they left it. All hope would have died hadthey known their comrades had gone.
Yet that very circumstance stands at this moment in their favor. TheCheyennes had learned with huge delight that the strange soldiers hadmarched off westward, apparently abandoning that watch near thereservations, and leaving it safe for them to scurry forth with bag andbaggage, with women and children, on their rush for freedom--and SittingBull.
Sighting this little detachment of soldiers venturing on down the valleyinstead of hurrying back, they had signalled all over the countrycalling in war-parties to their aid, and formulated their scheme toambuscade and "corral" it at the narrows of the valley; but Ray'svigilance and plainscraft had defeated that scheme; though they had goodchances yet, if they only knew where the regiment had gone. Late theprevious evening it had disappeared behind a prominent headland far up avalley farther to the south, and probably had there gone into camp forthe night. Late _this_ night they get the news that gives rise to vastspeculation and some genuine anxiety. Runners come in who say thatinstead of camping there, the White Chief rode all night; turnednorthward soon as it was dark; crossed this very valley far above themat dawn, and where he went from there they couldn't say. They dare notfollow. Was it possible the White Chief was going to beat them at theirown tactics? Could it be that he was going to head them off? Attack themin the early morning far to the northwest? Lying on the ground, theofficers heard many hoof-beats dying away in the distance, and wonderedwhat it might mean. It meant that some fifty of their foemen hadgalloped away to look for their families and the rest of the band, andwarn them of the new danger. It was more than certain that no help couldcome to the soldiers in the valley; but they must guard their peopleagainst this mysterious move. At daybreak those left behind would resumethe effort to dislodge the soldiers, and then there would be a revel.
And daybreak comes all too soon. Far to the east the stars are paling,and a grayish veil rises slowly from the horizon. One by one thenight-lamps in the heavens lose their sparkle and radiance, as thefilament of the dawn shrouds and stifles them. Far down the valleytumbling outlines of ridge and height are carved out in sharper reliefagainst the lightening sky. There is a stir in the leaves o'erhead andthe soft rustle of the morning breeze. Presently the pallid veil at theeast takes on a purplish blush, that is changing every instant to aruddier hue. Faces are beginning to be dimly visible in the groups ofdefenders, pinched and drawn and cold in the nipping air, and Waynenotes with a half sob how blue poor Dana's lips are. The boy's thoughtsare far away. Is he wandering? Is it fever already?
His eyes are closed, and he whispered to himself but a moment ago.Hunter is taking a cat-nap. Wayne is too anxious, too unhappy to sleep,and his wound is stiff and painful. A veteran first sergeant comescreeping up to them for orders, and they are brief enough:
"Don't let the men waste a shot. It's our only hope of holding out untilhelp can come. They'll be on us again soon as it is fairly light."
"Captain," whispers Dana, "have you been awake all the time?"
"Yes, lad. Why?"
"Have you heard nothing,--no signal?"
"Nothing; not a sound. Why do you ask?"
"I'm afraid I've been only dreaming; yet I thought, I surely thought awhile ago I heard a trumpet-call,--far away--far out on the prairie."
"Which way, Dana?"
"Off to the southwest. I didn't like to speak of it, but I thought Iheard it twice."
"If Ray got through all right that's where the --th should be comingfrom. It may be, Dana. It may be, for they'd lose no time, though Raythought six would be the earliest hour at which he could fetch them evenat a trot. It's only about three now, or a little after. I'll put men onwatch and have them listen. Go and bring the trumpeter to me," he said,to one of the men.
The light grows broader every moment. Already forms can be dimlydistinguished up and down the stream-bed, and mounted Indians dartingabout out on the prairie. A sergeant comes up to the group of officerswith quiet salute:
"Those fellows up-stream are getting ready, captain. Several of themmounted a few minutes ago and rode away rapidly towards the southwest. Isaw others out on the prairie heading over to the bluffs. They seemedexcited-like, and looked to be in full fighting trim."
Dana's eyes light with eager hope.
"Captain, they heard what I did. Some of our fellows _are_ off there,taking short cut across country to find us, and are signalling withtheir trumpets. Let us go farther out,--to the prairie. I'm sure I heardit, and we can answer."
Almost broad daylight now, though it is long before sun-up, but in veryshort time Wayne, Dana, and the trumpeter are crouching just at the edgeof the timber, listening, listening, while a prayer goes up with everyheart-beat.
At last Dana's weakness tells upon him. He sinks down at the bottom of atree exhausted, but his ears are still alert. Suddenly he springs againto his knee. "There! for God's sake listen. What is that?"
And far, far out to the southwest, far beyond the line of bluffs, thererises upon the still morning air soft, clear, floating, and oh! sweeterthan the harmonies of seraphs, the quick, joyous notes of officer'scall. Oh, heaven! was ever reveille so blessed?
"Up with you, Rheinhart! Answer them! Blow your whole soul into it, butmake 'em hear!" shouts Wayne; and the burly young Prussian rolls over onhis back, braces his copper clarion at his lips, and rouses the echoesof the valley with the ringing, jubilant, pealing reply. None of thedolorous business of Roland at Roncesvalles about Rheinhart'sperformance this time! It is like the bugle-horn of Roderick vich Alpine
Dhu,--
"One blast were worth a thousand men."
From rifle-pit and stunted log, from shore to shore, the timber leapsinto life and rings with the triumphant cheers of the besieged.
"Down with you, you idiots! back to your holes!" yell the officers, nonetoo soon, for with vengeful howls every Indian in the valley seems atthe instant to open fire, and once more the little command is encircledby the cordon of savage sharpshooters. Holding their own fire exceptwhere some rabid young foeman too daringly exposes himself, the men waitand listen. Little by little the fury of the attack draws away, and onlyscattering shots annoy them. They can see, though, that already manyIndians are mounting and scurrying off to the north side of the valley,though plenty remain in the timber to keep vigilant watch over theirevery move. Hunter begs permission to mount and move out with twenty mento guide the rescuers, but there is no ammunition to warrant it. All menare needed just where they are. Scattering shots keep coming in; theyells of the Indians still continue; the trumpeter raises a lusty blastfrom time to time, but officers and men are again all eagerly listening.
"They're coming! they're coming!" is next the cry, for distant shots areheard, then the thunder of hoofs, the shouts and yells of excitedIndians; then warrior after warrior comes darting back over the bluffsat the south, springing from his pony at the crest, as though for onemore shot at rapidly-advancing foe; more shots and yells; atrumpet-blare, and then,--then ringing like clarion over the turmoil ofthe fight,--echoing far across the still valley, the sound of a gloriousvoice shouting the well-known words of command, "Left--front--intoline--_gallop_!" And Dana can hold in no longer. Almost sobbing, hecries aloud,--
"Jack Truscott, by all that's glorious! I'd know the voice among amillion!"
Who in the --th would not? Who in the old regiment had not leaped at itssummons time and again? Who that was there will ever forget thescene,--the welcome those wellnigh hopeless fellows give it now? Dana'smen break from their cover, and cheering madly, go dashing through thetimber towards their persecutors of the day before. Hunter's skirmisherspush eastward through the trees for one more crack at the besiegers.Others--cheering too, yet spell-bound--cling to the spot, and go wildwith joy as the long blue line comes flashing into view across thebluffs from the south, the just rising sun flaming at their crests andtinting the wild war-bonnets of the foe, who go tumbling and scurryingaway before them; and their old adjutant comes thundering down theslopes with ninety splendid troopers at his heels, sweeping the valleyof their late humiliation,--riding home to the rescue.
Fired by the sight, some of Wayne's men seize their saddles and throwthem on their excited steeds, but before they can mount Truscott's menare whirling up and down the valley, driving the few remaining warriorsto the other side, and leaving some wounded ponies and two bedizenedbraves prone upon the prairies. Quickly the leader comes darting throughthe timber with hearty, yet laughing, greeting for Wayne, and a wave ofthe hand to the cheering group. There is no time for compliments now.Out go the skirmishers across the river bottom, through the trees, andspinning away across the valley northward, whirling the Cheyennes beforethem until they are driven to the bluffs. Then, as the "halt" issounded, and the vigilant line forms big semicircle to ward off furtherattack, and the little pack-mules with their escort come ambling brisklyin from the south, Jack Truscott comes quietly back, lining hisbroad-brimmed scouting-hat and wiping the sweat from his brow; and asthey throng about him--officers and men--almost the first question askedis,--
"And where is Ray?"
"Safe, but badly wounded."
And then little by little the story was told. But for Ray no rescuecould have come. The regiment was miles away across country. Truscott'ssquadron had reached their late camp the previous evening to find themgone. There was a stockade there, where, with underground defences andstout palings, a little company of infantry stood guard over a lot ofammunition and supplies. They found there the sick and two wounded ofthe regiment, a doctor and some scouts who had backed out of going, andthey also found a letter to Truscott from the colonel commanding,telling him that Wayne ought to be somewhere west of him up the nextvalley, to push on and join him, and then together they would be strongenough to ride through the Cheyenne trails and find the regiment.Fearing that Wayne would get too far up the valley, Truscott decided tomake a night march due north and strike it some distance up-stream. Fromfour P.M. until eleven they had rested, then had coffee, fed the horses,and started. Somewhere about one o'clock through the dim light of thewaning moon they caught sight of a mounted man rapidly nearing them fromthe east, and heard the whinny of a horse. That was enough to prove'twas no Indian. Who could it be? One or two flankers galloped to meethim, and the next thing a sergeant came rushing to Truscott at the headof column.
"My God! captain, it's Loot'nant Ray, an' he's most dead."
In an instant Truscott had halted the command and was at the side of hisold friend, whom the men had lowered, weak and faint, to the ground. Thesurgeon came, administered stimulant, examined and rebound his wound; abullet had torn through the right thigh, and he had bled fearfully, butall he seemed to think of was the errand on which he came. In few wordshe told of Wayne's position, pointed out the shortest way, and bade thembe off at once. Three men were left with him, one galloped back to thestation for an ambulance and the hospital attendant there, and with hisfaint blessing and "good luck to you, fellows!" Ray had sent them atlively lope bound for the valley and the rescue. There were men thatJuly morning who hid their heads to hide their tears as Truscott quietlytold of Ray's heroism and suffering, his narrow escape, his imminentdangers, all met and borne that they might live. There were others whocared not if their tears were seen. There was no one there who did notvow that it would go hard with him if ever man ventured to malign BillyRay in his presence; but there was no one there who dreamed that evenwhile daring death to save them the man whose praise was on every lipstood bitterly in need of friends, that blackest calumny, that lowestintrigue, had conspired to pull him down.
It was a week before the four companies rejoined the --th, and thereunited regiment pushed northwestward towards the Big Horn Mountains;but by that time Ray with other wounded was being carefully wheeledback to Russell, where the news of his heroic exploit had preceded him,and where widely different feelings had thereby been excited. Onehousehold heard it as it will never be forgotten. Mrs. Truscott and MissSanford were just seating themselves at breakfast one bright morning,when Mrs. Stannard came rushing in all aglow with mingled excitement andemotion.
"Hurrah for the Sanford colors!" she cried. "Read that! I cannot,--Icannot!" And throwing them a long despatch, she astonished her next-doorneighbors by fairly bursting into tears.
It was with difficulty that the ladies could recover composure in timefor the inevitable visit that they knew must come from Mrs. Whaling, and_did_ come at ten o'clock.
