by Charles King
CHAPTER VI
FIRST SIGHT OF THE FOE
Ray's gallant half hundred, as has been said, took the route for thenorth at break of day. Before them spread the open prairie, apparentlylevel and unbroken for full five miles to the front and either flank,the distant slopes and ridges bounding the level expanse growing moredistinct with every moment, and presently lighting up in exultingradiance in response to the rosy blushes of the eastward sky. Scorningthe dusty stage road, the troop commander pointed to a distant heightjust visible against the northward horizon, bade the leading guide marchstraight on that; then gave the order "Right by Twos," that he might themore readily note the gait and condition of every horse and the bearingand equipment of his rider. There was still time to weed out weaklingsof either class should any such there be. Riding slowly along the leftflank, one after another, he carefully scanned every man and mount inhis little detachment, then, at quicker pace, passed around to theeastward side of the column, and as critically, carefully studied themfrom that point of view. A light of quiet satisfaction shone in hisfine, dark eyes as he finished, for, next to his wife and children,that troop was Ray's supreme delight. The preliminary look-over bylantern light had been all sufficient. This later inspection on the moverevealed not a steed amiss, not an item of equipment either misplaced orlacking. "Steady as planets," barring the irrepressible tendency of someyoung, high-spirited horse to dance a bit until quieted by the monotonyof the succeeding miles, at quick, light-hoofed walk, the sorrelstripped easily along in precise, yet companionable couples. "One yardfrom head to croup," said the drill book of the day, and, but for that,the riders might have dropped their reins upon the pommel as practicallyunnecessary. But, for the first hour or so, at least, the tendencytoward the rear of column was ever to crowd upon the file leaders, aproceeding resented, not infrequently, in less disciplined commands thanRay's, by well-delivered kicks, or at least such signs of equinedisapprobation as switching tail or set-back ears. But Ray's troophorses moved like so many machines, so constant and systematic had beentheir drill; and Ray's men rode in the perfection of uniform, so far asarmament and equipment were concerned. Each greatcoat, precisely rolled,was strapped with its encircling poncho at the pommel. Each blanket, assnugly packed, with the sidelines festooned upon the top, was strappedat the cantle. Lariat and picket pin, coiled and secured, hung from thenear side of the pommel. The canteen, suspended from its snap hook, hungat the off side. Saddle-bags, with extra horse shoes, nails, socks,underwear, brushes and comb, extra packages of carbine and revolvercartridges and minor impedimenta, equally distributed as to weight,swung from the cantle and underneath the blanket roll. From the broad,black leather carbine sling, over each trooper's left shoulder, thehard-shooting brown barrelled little Springfield hung suspended, itsmuzzle thrust, as was the fashion of the day, into the crude socketimposed so long upon our frontier fighters by officials who had neverseen the West, save, as did a certain writer of renown, from a carwindow, thereby limiting their horizon. Ray despised that socket as hedid the Shoemaker bit, but believed, with President Grant, that the bestmeans to end obnoxious laws was their rigorous enforcement. Each man'srevolver, a trusty brown Colt, hung in its holster at the right hip.Each man was girt with ammunition belt of webbing, the device of anold-time Yankee cavalryman that has been copied round the world, thedull-hued copper cartridges bristling from every loop. Each man wore, aswas prescribed, the heavy, cumbrous cavalry boot of the day andgeneration, but had stowed in his saddle-bags light moccasins andleggings with which to replace them when, farther afield, theirclear-headed commander should give the word. Each man, too, wore thegauntlets of Indian-tanned buckskin, a special pattern that Ray had beenpermitted to use experimentally. Each man was clad in dark blue flannelshirt and blouse, the latter soon probably to be stored with the big,weighty boots in Truscott's saddle room at Beecher, with, probably too,many of the light blue riding breeches, saddle-pieced with canvas--theuniform at the start destined, in the case of veteran troopers, atleast, to be shed in favor of brown duck hunting trousers, or even,among certain extremists, fringed, beaded and embroidered buckskin, thanwhich the present chronicler knows no more uncomfortable garb whensoaked by pelting rains or immersion in some icy mountain stream. Eventhe brown campaign hats, uniformly "creased," as the fifty left theford, would soon be knocked out of all semblance to the prescribedshape, and made at once comfortable and serviceable. Add to these itemsthe well-filled haversack and battered tin quart cup, (for on a forcedmarch of two or three days Captain Ray would have no pack mules,) andthe personal equipment of his men was complete. As for the mounts, eachsorrel tripped easily along under the sextuple folds of the saddleblanket, and the black-skinned McClellan saddle tree, with its broadhorsehair cincha and hooded wooden stirrups, minus the useless skirtsand sweat leathers. Neither breast strap, crupper nor martingalehampered the free movements of the sturdy, stocky little weightcarriers. The black, single-reined curb bridle, fastened as to thethroat latch by a light buckle, was slipped on over the headstall of theso-called watering bridle, whose toggled and detachable snaffle bit wasgenerally "toted" from start to finish of a field scout in the saddlebags,--a twist of the flexible lariat, Indian fashion, between thecomplaisant jaws of his pet, being the troop's ready substitute. Add tothis that, full, free and unmutilated, in glossy waves the beautifulmanes and tails tossed in the upland breeze (for the heresies ofAnglomania never took root in the American cavalry) and you have Ray'sfamous troop as it looked, fresh started from old Fort Frayne thisglorious autumn morning of 188-, and with a nod of approbation, and "Itcouldn't be better, sergeant," to his devoted right hand man, theveteran senior non-commissioned officer of the troop, Ray rang out thecommand "At ease," and placed himself beside the silent young lieutenantat the head of column.
RAY'S TROOP.]
As has been said, Ray's senior subaltern was on detached service. Hisjunior, Mr. Clayton, had joined but the year before, and this threw Mr.Field in command of the leading platoon and to the side of the leadingguide. Now, as the senior officer took the head of column and Mr.Clayton fell back to the rear, the silence of the first mile of marchwas broken and, though sitting erect in saddle and forbidden to loungeor "slouch," the troop began its morning interchange of chaff andcomment. Every mother's son of them rejoiced to be once more afield witha chance of stirring work ahead.
"It's time to throw out our advance, Field," said Ray, in kindly,cordial tone, as he scanned the low divide still some miles ahead andreined in beside the stern-faced young soldier. "Send Sergeant Scottforward with three men and the same number on each flank--corporals incharge."
He had more than liked Webb's adjutant. He had been his stanchestfriend and supporter among the troop and company commanders, and waseager to befriend him now. He had expressed no wish to have him sent onthe hurried move, but well he knew the post commander's reasons andapproved his course. Still, now that Field was being removed, for thetime at least, from the possibility of an entangling alliance that mightprove disastrous, in every way in his power Ray meant to show themortified, indeed sorely angered, officer that his personal regard forhim had suffered no change whatever. If he could succeed in winningField's confidence it might well be that he could bring him to see thatthere were good and sufficient grounds for the post commander'saction--that for Field's own good, in fact, it was a most desirablemove. The soul of loyalty and square dealing himself, Ray had never fora moment dreamed that anything other than a foolish escapade hadoccurred--a ride by moonlight, perhaps, demanded of her devotee by athoughtless, thoroughbred coquette, whose influence over the youngfellow was beginning to mar his usefulness, if not indeed his futureprospects. Just what to think of Nanette Flower Ray really did not know.Marion, his beloved better half, was his unquestioned authority in allsuch matters, and it was an uncommon tenet of that young matron never tocondemn until she had cause. Instinctively she shrank from what she hadseen of Miss Flower, even though her woman's eye rejoiced in theelegance of Miss Flower's abundant to
ilets; and, conscious of herintuitive aversion, she would utter no word that might later proveunjust. Oddly enough, that instinctive aversion was shared by herclosest friend and neighbor, Mrs. Blake; but, as yet, the extent oftheir condemnation had found vent only in the half whimsical, halfpetulant expression on part of the younger lady--Blake's beautiful wife,"I wish her name weren't--so near like mine," for "Nan" had been her petname almost from babyhood. Vaguely conscious were they both, these lordsof creation, Messrs. Blake and Ray, that the ladies of their love didnot approve of Miss Flower, but Ray had ridden forth without ever askingor knowing why, and so, unknowing, was ill prepared to grapple with theproblem set before him. It is easier to stem a torrent with a shinglethan convince a lover that his idol is a shrew.
Without a word of reply, Field reined out of column, glanced along thedouble file of his platoon, nodded a signal "Fall out" to SergeantScott, and the men nearest him at the front, merely said "Advanceguard," and then proceeded to choose his corporals and men for flankers.No need to tell Scott what to do! He had been leading scouts in Arizonalong ere Field had even dreamed of West Point. In five minutes, ridingat easy lope, carbines advanced, three little parties of four trooperseach were spreading far out to the front and flank, guarding the littlecolumn against the possibility of sudden assault from hidden foe. Hereupon the level prairie one would think such precaution needless, butevery acre of the surface was seamed and gullied by twisting littlewater courses, dry as a chip at the moment, and some of them so deep asto afford cover even for the biggest pony of the wild warriors of theplains. Then, to the front, the barrier ridges, streaked with deepwinding ravines, were now billowing against the northward sky, and onceamong those tangled land waves no chances could be taken now that it wasknown that the Sioux had declared for war, and that Stabber's band wasout to join their red brethren in the oft recurring outbreak. Untiltheir lands were criss-crossed by the railways and their mountain hauntsre-echoed to the scream of the iron horse, next to nothing would startan Indian war: it took so long to reach the scene with troops insufficient numbers to command their respect.
And at this moment the situation was grave in the extreme. There hadbeen bad blood and frequent collision between the cattlemen, herders,"hustlers,"--especially hustlers,--and the hunting parties of the Siouxand the Northern Cheyenne, who clung to the Big Horn Range and thesuperb surrounding country with almost passionate love and with jealoustenacity. There had been aggression on both sides, then bloodshed, thenattempts on part of frontier sheriffs to arrest accused or suspected redmen, and equally determined and banded effort to prevent arrest ofaccused and identified whites. By due process of law, as administered inthe days whereof we write, the Indian was pretty sure to get the worstof every difference, and therefore, preferred, not unnaturally, his owntime-honored methods of settlement. In accordance therewith, had theyscalped the sheriff's posse that had shot two of their young braves whohad availed themselves of a purposely given chance to escape, and thenin their undiscriminating zeal, the Sioux had opened fire from ambush onPlodder's hunting parties and the choppers at the wood camp, whodefended themselves as best they could, to the end that more men, redand white, were killed. The Indians rallied in force and closed in aboutFort Beecher, driving the survivors to shelter within its guarded lines,and then, when Plodder needed every man of his force to keep the foe atrespectful distance, so that his bullets could not reach the quartersoccupied by the women and children at the post, there reached him bynight a runner from the stage station far over to the southeast, on adry fork of the Powder, saying that the north and south bound stages hadtaken refuge there, with only ten men, all told, to stand off some fiftywarriors, and therefore imploring assistance. Not daring to send atroop, Plodder called for volunteers to bear despatches to Major Webb,at Frayne, and Pat Kennedy, with half a dozen brave lads, had promptlystepped forward. Kennedy had managed to slip through the encirclingSioux by night, and to reach Fort Frayne after a daring and almostdesperate ride. Then Ray was ordered forth, first to raise the siege atthe stage station, then, either to hold that important relay ranch or goon to reinforce Plodder as his judgment and the situation might dictate.
He knew enough of the stout adobe walls of the corral on the Dry Fork,and of the grit of the few defenders, to feel reasonably sure that,with ammunition, provisions and water in plenty, they could easily holdout a week if need be against the Sioux, so long as they fought on thedefensive and the Indians were not strongly reinforced. He reasoned thatStabber and his people were probably gone to strengthen the attack, andthat having an hour's start at least, and riding faster, they would getthere somewhat ahead of him. But one of his own old sergeants, a veteranof twenty years in the cavalry, was now stationmaster on the Dry Fork,and all the Sioux from the Platte to Paradise couldn't stampede old JimKelly. Many a forced march had Ray made in the past, and well he knewthat the surest way to bring his horses into action, strong and sound atthe finish, was to move "slow and steady" at the start, to move at thewalk until the horses were calm and quiet, was his rule. Then on thisbright September day would come the alternating trot and lope, withbrief halts to reset saddles; then, later still, the call upon hiswilling men and mounts for sustained effort, and by sunset he and theycould count on riding in, triumphant, to the rescue, even though Stabberhimself should seek to bar the way.
And that Stabber meant to watch the road, if not to block it, becameevident before the head of column began the gradual ascent of MoccasinRidge, from whose sharp crest the little band could take their lastlook, for the time, at least, at the distant walls of Frayne. Somewheretoward seven-thirty Corporal Connors' foremost man, far out on the leftflank, riding suddenly over a low divide, caught sight of a bonnetedwarrior bending flat over his excited pony and lashing that nimble,fleet-footed creature to mad gallop in the effort to reach the cover ofthe projecting point of bluff across the shallow ravine that cut intoward the foothills. Stone, the trooper, lifted his campaign hat onhigh once, and then lowered his arm to the horizontal, hat in hand,pointing in the direction the darting savage was seen, and thus, withouta syllable having been spoken at the front, word was passed in to Raythat one Indian had been sighted far out to the northwest.
"They may try to hold us among the breaks of the Mini Pusa," said he, tohis still unreconciled second in command. Field had been civil,respectful, but utterly uncommunicative in his replies to the captain'srepeated cordialities. Any attempt to even remotely refer to the causesthat led to his being ordered out with the detachment had been met withchilling silence. Now, however, the foe had been seen and could becounted on to resist if his rallied force much exceeded that of thetroop, or to annoy it by long-range fire if too weak to risk otherencounter. The command halted one moment at the crest to take one long,lingering look at the now far-distant post beyond the Platte; then,swinging again into saddle, moved briskly down into the long, widehollow between them and the next divide, well nigh three miles across,and as they reached the low ground and traversed its little draininggully, a muttered exclamation "Look there!" from the lips of the firstsergeant, called their attention again to the far left front. Stone,the trooper who had reported the first Indian, had turned his horse overto the second man, as had the corporal on that flank, and together theywere crouching up along the eastward face of a billowing hillock, while,straight to the front Sergeant Scott, obedient to a signal from his lefthand man, was speeding diagonally along the rise to the north, for allthree advance troopers had halted and two were cautiously dismounting.Ray watched one moment, with kindling eyes, then turned to his youngchief of platoons:
"Take your men, Field, and be ready to support. There's something behindthat second ridge!"
