by Charles King
CHAPTER XI
A FIGHT WITH A FURY
The noonday sun was staring hotly down, an hour later, on a stirringpicture of frontier warfare, with that clump of cottonwoods as thecentral feature. Well for Ray's half hundred, that brilliant autumnmorning, that their leader had had so many a year of Indian campaigning!He now seemed to know by instinct every scheme of his savage foe and toact accordingly. Ever since the command had come in sight of the ElkTooth the conviction had been growing on Ray that Stabber must havereceived many accessions and was counting on the speedy coming ofothers. The signal smokes across the wide valley; the frequent essays totempt his advance guard to charge and chase; the boldness with which theIndians showed on front and flank; the daring pertinacity with whichthey clung to the stream bed for the sake of a few shots at the foremosttroopers, relying, evidently, on the array of their comrades beyond theridge to overwhelm any force that gave close pursuit; the fact thatother Indians opened on the advance guard and the left flankers, andthat a dozen, at least, tore away out of the sandy arroyo the momentthey saw the line start at the gallop;--all these had tended to convincethe captain that, now at last, when he was miles from home and succor,the Sioux stood ready in abundant force to give him desperate battle.
To dart on in chase of the three warriors would simply result in thescattering of his own people and their being individually cut off andstricken down by circling swarms of their red foes. To gather his menand attempt to force the passage of the Elk Tooth ridge meant certaindestruction of the whole command. The Sioux would be only to glad toscurry away from their front and let them through, and then in bigcircle whirl all about him, pouring in a concentric fire that would besure to hit some, at least, exposed as they would be on the openprairie, while their return shots, radiating wildly at the swift-dartingwarriors, would be almost as sure to miss. He would soon be weighteddown with wounded, refusing to leave them to be butchered; unable,therefore, to move in any direction, and so compelled to keep up ashelterless, hopeless fight until, one by one, he and his gallantfellows fell, pierced by Indian lead, and sacrificed to the scalpingknife as were Custer's three hundred a decade before.
No, Ray knew too much of frontier strategy to be so caught. There stoodthe little grove of dingy green, a prairie fortress, if one knew how touse it. There in the sand of the stream bed, by digging, were they sureto find water for the wounded, if wounded there had to be. There by theaid of a few hastily thrown intrenchments he could have a little plainsfort and be ready to repel even an attack in force. Horses could beherded in the depths of the sandy shallows. Men could be distributed inbig circle through the trees and along the bank; and, with abundantrations in their haversacks and water to be had for the digging, theycould hold out like heroes until relief should come from the south.
Obviously, therefore, the cottonwood grove was the place, and thither atthundering charge Field led the foremost line, while Ray waved on thesecond, all hands cheering with glee at sight of the Sioux dartingwildly away up the northward slope. Ten men in line, far extended, weresent right forward half way across the flats, ordered to drive theIndians from the bottom and cripple as many as possible; but, if menacedby superior numbers, to fall back at the gallop, keeping well away fromthe front of the grove, so that the fire of its garrison might not be"masked." The ten had darted after the scurrying warriors, full half wayto the beginning of the slope, and then, just as Ray had predicted, downcame a cloud of brilliant foemen, seeking to swallow the little tenalive. Instantly their sergeant leader whirled them about and, pointingthe way, led them in wide circle, horses well in hand, back to the drywash, then down into its sandy depths. Here every trooper sprang fromsaddle, and with the rein looped on the left arm, and from the shelterof the straight, stiff banks, opened sharp fire on their pursuers, justas Clayton's platoon, dismounting at the grove, sprang to the nearestcover and joined in the fierce clamor of carbines. Racing down theslope at top speed as were the Sioux, they could not all at once checkthe way of their nimble mounts, and the ardor of the chase had carriedthem far down to the flats before the fierce crackle began. Then it wasthrilling to watch them, veering, circling, sweeping to right or left,ever at furious gallop, throwing their lithe, painted bodies behindtheir chargers' necks, clinging with one leg and arm, barely showing somuch as an eyelid, yet yelping and screeching like so many coyotes, notone of their number coming within four hundred yards of the slenderfighting line in the stream bed; some of them, indeed, disdaining tostoop, riding defiantly along the front, firing wildly as they rode, yetsurely and gradually guiding their ponies back to the higher ground,back out of harm's way; and, in five minutes from the time they hadflashed into view, coming charging over the mile away ridge, not a redwarrior was left on the low ground,--only three or four luckless ponies,kicking in their last struggles or stiffening on the turf, while theirriders, wounded or unhurt, had been picked up and spirited away with themarvellous skill only known to these warriors of the plains.
Then Ray and his men had time to breathe and shout laughing comment andcongratulation. Not one, as yet, was hit or hurt. They were secure forthe time in a strong position, and had signally whipped off the firstassault of the Sioux.
Loudly, excitedly, angrily these latter were now conferring again farup the slope to the north. At least an hundred in one concourse, theywere having hot discussion over the untoward result of the dash. Others,obedient to orders from the chief, were circling far out to east andwest and crossing the valley above and below the position of thedefence. Others, still, were galloping back to the ridge, where, againstthe sky line, strong bodies of warriors could be plainly seen, movingexcitedly to and fro. Two little groups slowly making their way to thecrest gave no little comfort to the boys in blue. Some, at least, of thecharging force had been made to feel the bite of the cavalry weapon, andwere being borne to the rear.
But no time was to be wasted. Already from far up the stream bed two orthree Indians were hazarding long-range shots at the grove, and Rayordered all horses into a bend of the "wash," where the side lines werewhipped from the blanket straps and the excited sorrels securelyhoppled. Then, here, there and in a score of places along the bank andagain at the edge of the cottonwoods, men had been assigned theirstations and bidden to find cover for themselves without delay. Manyburrowed in the soft and yielding soil, throwing the earth forward infront of them. Others utilized fallen trees or branches. Some two orthree piled saddles and blanket rolls into a low barricade, and all,while crouching about their work, watched the feathered warriors as theysteadily completed their big circle far out on the prairie. Bullets camewhistling now fast and frequently, nipping off leaves and twigs andcausing many a fellow to duck instinctively and to look about him,ashamed of his dodge, yet sure of the fact that time had been in thedays of the most hardened veteran of the troop when he, too, knew whatit was to shrink from the whistle of hostile lead. It would be but amoment or two, they all understood, before the foe would decide on thenext move; then every man would be needed.
Meantime, having stationed Field on the north front, with orders to noteevery movement of the Sioux, and having assigned Clayton to the minorduty of watching the south front and the flanks, Ray was moving cheerilyamong his men, speeding from cover to cover, suggesting here, helpingthere, alert, even joyous in manner. "We couldn't have a better roost,lads," he said. "We can stand off double their number easy. We can holdout a week if need be, but you bet the major will be reaching out afterus before we're two days older. Don't waste your shots. Coax them closein. Don't fire at a galloping Indian beyond three hundred yards. It'swaste of powder and lead."
Cheerily, joyously they answered him, these his comrades, his soldierchildren, men who had fought with him, many of their number, in a dozenfields, and men who would stand by him, their dark-eyed little captain,to the last. Even the youngest trooper of the fifty seemed inspired bythe easy, laughing confidence of the lighter hearts among their number,or the grim, matter of fact pugnacity of the older campaigners. It
wassignificant, too, that the Indians seemed so divided in mind as to thenext move. There was loud wrangling and much disputation going on inthat savage council to the north. Stabber's braves and Lame Wolf'sfollowers seemed bitterly at odds, for old hands in the fast-growingrifle pits pointed out on one side as many as half a dozen of theformer's warriors whom they recognized and knew by sight, while Ray,studying the shifting concourse through his glasses, could easily seeStabber himself raging among them in violent altercation with a tall,superbly built and bedizened young brave, a sub-chief, apparently, whofor his part, seemed giving Stabber as good as he got. Lame Wolf was notin sight at all. He might still be far from the scene, and this tallwarrior be acting as his representative. But whoever or whatever he washe had hearty following. More than three-fourths of the wranglingwarriors in the group seemed backing him. Ray, after a few words toSergeant Winsor, crawled over beside his silent and absorbed youngsecond in command, and, bringing his glasses to bear, gazed across a lowparapet of sand long and fixedly at the turbulent throng a thousandyards away.
"It's easy to make out Stabber," he presently spoke. "One can almosthear that foghorn voice of his. But who the mischief is that red villainopposing him? I've seen every one of their chiefs in the last fiveyears. All are men of forty or more. This fellow can't be a big chief.He looks long years younger than most of 'em, old Lame Wolf, forinstance, yet he's cheeking Stabber as if he owned the whole outfit."Another long stare, then again--"Who the mischief can he be?"
No answer at his side, and Ray, with the lenses still at his eyes, tookno note for the moment that Field remained so silent. Out at the frontthe excitement increased. Out through the veil of surging warriors, theloud-voiced, impetuous brave twice burst his way, and seemed at one andthe same time, in his superb poise and gesturings, to be urging theentire body to join him in instant assault on the troops, and hurlingtaunt and anathema on the besieged. Whoever he was, he was in averitable fury. As many as half of the Indians seemed utterly carriedaway by his fiery words, and with much shouting and gesticulation andbrandishing of gun and lance, were yelling approbation of his views andurging Stabber's people to join them. More furious language followed andmuch dashing about of excited ponies.
"Have you ever seen that fellow before?" demanded Ray, of brown-eyedSergeant Winsor, who had spent a lifetime on the plains, but Winsor wasplainly puzzled.
"I can't say for the life of me, sir," was the answer. "I don't know himat all--and yet--"
"Whoever he is, by Jove," said Ray, "he's a bigger man this day thanStabber, for he's winning the fight. Now, if he only leads the dash ashe does the debate, we can pick him off. Who are our best shots on thisfront?" and eagerly he scanned the few faces near him. "Webber's tiptopand good for anything under five hundred yards when he isn't excited,and Stoltz, he's a keen, cool one. No! not you, Hogan," laughed thecommander, as a freckled faced veteran popped his head up over a nearbyparapet of sand, and grinned his desire to be included.
"I've never seen the time you could hit what you aimed at. Slip out ofthat hole and find Webber and tell him to come here--and you take hisburrow." Whereupon Hogan, grinning rueful acquiescence in hiscommander's criticism, slid backwards into the stream bed and, followedby the chaff of the three or four comrades near enough to catch thewords, went crouching from post to post in search of the desiredmarksman.
"You used to be pretty sure with the carbine in the Tonto Basin when wewere after Apaches, sergeant," continued Ray, again peering through theglasses. "I'm mistaken in this fellow if he doesn't ride well withinrange, and we must make an example of him. I want four first class shotsto single him out."
"The lieutenant can beat the best I ever did, sir," said Winsor, with alift of the hand toward the hat brim, as though in apology, for Field,silent throughout the brief conference, had half risen on his hands andknees and was edging over to the left, apparently seeking to reach theshelter of a little hummock close to the bank.
"Why, surely, Field," was the quick reply, as Ray turned toward hisjunior. "That will make it complete."
"WITH ONE MAGNIFICENT RED ARM UPLIFTED."]
But a frantic burst of yells and war whoops out at the front put suddenstop to the words. The throng of warriors that had pressed so closeabout Stabber and the opposing orator seemed all in an instant to splitasunder, and with trailing war bonnet and followed by only two or threeof his braves, the former lashed his way westward and swept angrily outof the ruck and went circling away toward the crest, while, with loudacclamation, brandishing shield and lance and rifle in superb barbarictableau, the warriors lined up in front of the victorious young leaderwho, sitting high in his stirrups, with one magnificent red armuplifted, began shouting in the sonorous tongue of the Sioux some urgentinstructions. Down from the distant crest came other braves as though tomeet and ask Stabber explanation of his strange quitting the field. Downcame a dozen others, young braves mad for battle, eager to join theranks of this new leader, and Ray, who had turned on Field once more,fixed his glasses on that stalwart, nearly stark naked, brilliantlypainted form, foremost of the Indian array and now at last in full andunimpeded view.
"By the gods of war!" he cried. "I never saw that scoundrel before, butif it isn't that renegade Red Fox--Why, here, Field! Take my glass andlook. You were with the commissioners' escort last year at the BlackHills council. You must have seen him and heard him speak. Isn't thisRed Fox himself?"
And to Ray's surprise the young officer's eyes were averted, his facepale and troubled, and the answer was a mere mumble--"I didn't meetFox--there, captain."
He never seemed to see the glass held out to him until Ray almost thrustit into his hand and then persisted with his inquiry.
"Look at him anyhow. You may have seen him somewhere. Isn't that RedFox?"
And now Ray was gazing straight at Field's half hidden face. Field, thesoul of frankness hitherto, the lad who was never known to flinch fromthe eyes of any man, but to answer such challenge with his own,--brave,fearless, sometimes even defiant. Now he kept the big binocular fixed onthe distant hostile array, but his face was white, his hand unsteady andhis answer, when it came, was in a voice that Ray heard in mingled painand wonderment. Could it be that the lad was unnerved by the sight? Inany event, he seemed utterly unlike himself.
"I--cannot say, sir. It was dark--or night at all events,--the only timeI ever heard him."
