A Daughter of the Sioux: A Tale of the Indian frontier

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XIII

  WOUNDED--BODY AND SOUL

  To say the Sioux were furious at the failure of their second attemptwould be putting it far too mildly. The fierce charge from the northwardside, made under cover of the blinding smoke sent drifting by the galeacross the level flats, had been pushed so close to the grove that twored braves and half a dozen ponies had met their death within sixtypaces of the rifle pits. There lay the bodies now, and the Indians darenot attempt to reach them. The dread, wind-driven flame of the prairiefire, planned by the Sioux to burn out the defence, to serve as theirally, had been turned to their grave detriment.

  Ray and his devoted men had stopped the sweep of so much of theconflagration as threatened their little stronghold, but, rangingunhampered elsewhere, the seething wall rolled on toward the east,spreading gradually toward its flanks, and so, not only consuming vastacres of bunch grass, but checking the attack that should have been madefrom the entire southern half of the Indian circle. Later, leaping thesandy stream bed a little to the west of the cottonwoods, it spread inwild career over a huge tract along the left bank, and now, reunitingwith the southern wing some distance down the valley, was roaring awayto the bluffs of the Mini Pusa, leaving death and desolation in itstrack. Miles to the east the war parties from the reservation, riding tojoin Lame Wolf, sighted the black curtain of smoke, swift sailing overthe prairie, and changed their course accordingly. Not so many milesaway to the south Webb's skirmishers, driving before them three or fourSioux scouts from the northward slope of the Moccasin Ridge, set spursto their horses and took the gallop, the main body following on.

  With their eyelids blistered by heat and smoke, Ray's silent, determinedlittle band could see nothing of the coming force, yet knew relief wasnigh; for, close at hand, both east and west, large bodies of the enemycould be seen swift riding away to the north.

  They had hoped, as "Fox" had planned and promised, to burn out andoverwhelm the little troop at the grove before the column from Fraynecould possibly reach the spot. They had even anticipated the probableeffort of the command to check the flames, and had told off some fiftybraves to open concentric fire on any party that should rush into theopen with that object in view. They had thought to send in such a stormof lead, even from long range, that it should daunt and drive back thosewho had dared the attempt. They had stormed indeed, but could neitherdaunt nor drive back. Ray's men had braved death itself in the desperateessay, and, even in dying, had won the day.

  But their losses had been cruel. Three killed outright; three dying andeight more or less severely wounded had reduced their fighting strengthto nearly thirty. The guards of the sorrels, herded in the stream bed,had all they could do to control the poor, frightened creatures, many ofthem hit, several of them felled, by the plunging fire from the farhillsides. Even though driven back, the Sioux never meant to give up thebattle. On every side, leaving their ponies at safe distance, by dozensthe warriors crawled forward, snake-like, to the edge of the burned andblackened surface, and from there poured in a rapid and most harassingfire, compelling the defence to lie flat or burrow further, and woundingmany horses. The half hour that followed the repulse of their grandassault had been sorely trying to the troop, for the wounded needed aid,more men were hit, and there was no chance whatever to hit back. Movingfrom point to point, Ray carried cheer and courage on every side, yetwas so constantly exposed as to cause his men fresh anxiety. Even as hewas bending over Field a bullet had nipped the right shoulderstrap, andlater another had torn through the crown of his campaign hat. In all theyears of their frontier fighting they had never known a hotter fire; butRay's voice rang out through the drifting vapor with the same old cheerand confidence. "They can't charge again till the ground cools off," hecried. "By that time they'll have their hands full. See how they'rescudding away at the southward even now. Just keep covered and you'reall right." And, barring a growl or two from favored old hands whosought to make the captain take his own medicine and himself keepcovered, the answer was full of cheer.

  And so they waited through the hot smoke and sunshine of the autumnafternoon, and, even while comforting the wounded with assurance ofcoming relief, kept vigilant watch on every hostile move, and at last,toward three o'clock, the sharp fire about them slackened away, thesmouldering roots of the bunch grass had burned themselves out. Thesmoke drifted away from the prairie, and, as the landscape cleared tothe south and west, a cheer of delight went up from the cottonwoods, forthe slopes three miles away were dotted here and there and everywherewith circling, scurrying war ponies--they and their wild riders steadilyfalling back before a long rank of disciplined horsemen, the extendedskirmish line of Webb's squadron, backed by supports at regularintervals, and all heading straight on for the broad lowlands of theElk.

  "Send six of your men over to the south front, sergeant," were Ray'sorders to Winsor, as he hurried over to join Clayton again. "They maytry one final charge from that side, and give us a chance to empty a fewmore saddles." Creeping and crouching through the timber the chosen menobeyed, and were assigned to stations under Clayton's eye. Theprecaution was wise indeed, for, just as the captain foresaw, a rally inforce began far out over the southward slopes, the Indians gathering ingreat numbers about some chieftain midway between the coming force andthe still beleaguered defenders of the grove. Then, brandishing lanceand shield and rifle, as before, they began spreading out across theprairie, heading now for the cottonwoods, while others still faced andfired on the far blue skirmish line. The fierce wind, sweeping acrossthe direction of the attack, deadened all sound of hoof or war chant,but there was no mistaking the signs, no doubt of the intent, when, in alittle moment more, the earth began to tremble beneath the dancing ponyfeet, telling, almost with the swiftness of sight, that the grandadvance had again begun. But other eyes were watching too. Othersoldiers, keen campaigners as these at the Elk, were there afield, andalmost at the moment the wild barbaric horde burst yelling into theireager gallop, and before the dust cloud hid the distant slopes beyond,the exultant shout went up from the captain's lips, as he threw down hisglass and grabbed his carbine. "It's all right, men! The major's comingat their heels. Now let 'em have it!"

  In former days there had been scenes of wild rejoicing, sometimes ofdeep emotion, when relief came to some Indian-besieged detachment of theold regiment. Once, far to the south in the wild, romantic park countryof Colorado, a strong detachment had been corralled for days by anoverwhelming force of Utes. Their commander,--a dozen of their bestmen,--all the horses killed and many troopers sorely wounded. They hadbeen rescued at last by their skilled and gallant colonel, after a longand most scientific march by both night and day. Another time, stillfarther in their past, and yet within a dozen years, away down the broadvalley of the very stream of which this little Elk was a tributary, theCheyennes had hemmed in and sorely hammered two depleted troops thatowed their ultimate rescue to the daring of the very officer who socoolly, confidently headed the defence this day--to a night ride throughthe Indian lines that nearly cost him his brave young life, but thatbrought Captain Truscott with a fresh and powerful troop sweeping in totheir succor with the dawn. Then there had been men who strained othermen to their hearts and who shed tears like women, for gallant comradeshad bitten the dust in the desperate fighting of the day before, andhope itself had almost gone--with the ammunition of the beleagueredcommand.

  Now, with heavier losses than had befallen Wayne in '76, Ray's commandbeheld with almost tranquil hearts the coming of the fierce array infinal charge. Behind them, not two miles, to be sure, rode in swift,well-ordered pursuit the long line of comrade troopers. But there hadbeen intervening years of campaign experiences that dulled to a degreethe earlier enthusiasms of the soldier, and taught at least theassumption of professional composure that was the secret wonder of thesuckling trooper, and that became his chief ambition to acquire. It isone thing to charge home at a hard-fighting command when friends andcomrades back the effort and cheer the charging line. It is another toc
harge home conscious that other chargers are coming at one's heels.Magnificent as a spectacle, therefore, this closing dash of Lame Wolf'swarriors was but a meek reminder of their earlier attack. Long beforethey came within four hundred yards of the leafy stronghold,--themoment, indeed, the brown Springfields began their spiteful bark,--toright and left the warriors veered, far out on either flank. Screechingand yelling as was their savage way, they tore madly by, flattened outagainst their ponies' necks and, those who could use their arms at all,pumping wild shots that whistled harmless over the heads of thedefenders and bit the blackened prairie many a rod beyond. Only jeersrewarded the stirring spectacle,--jeers and a few low-aimed, sputteringvolleys that brought other luckless ponies to their knees and sprawled afew red riders. But in less than five minutes from the warning cry thathailed their coming, Lame Wolf and his hosts were lining Elk Tooth ridgeand watching with burning hate and vengeful eyes the swift, steadyadvance of Webb's long blue fighting line, and the utter unconcern ofthe defence. Even before the relieving squadron was within carbine rangecertain of Ray's men had scrambled out upon the northward bank and,pushing forward upon the prairie, were possessing themselves of the armsand ornaments of the two dead warriors whom the Sioux had strived invain to reach and bear within their lines. Ray and Clayton at the momentwere strolling placidly forth upon the southward "bench" to receive andwelcome the little knot of comrades sent galloping in advance to greetthem. There was perhaps just a suspicion of exaggerated nonchalanceabout their gait and bearing--a regimental weakness, possibly--and noother officer save Lieutenant Field happened to be within earshot whenWinsor's voice on the other front was heard in hoarse command:

  "Come back there, you fellows! Back or you're goners!"

  The sight had proved too much for some of the Sioux. Down again atfurious speed came a scattered cloud of young braves, following the leadof the tall, magnificent chief who had been the hero of the earlierattack,--down into the low ground, never swerving or checking pace,straight for the grove, the three or four inquisitive blue-coats in themeantime scurrying for shelter; and the yell that went up at sight ofthe Indian dash and the quick reopening of the sputtering fire broughtRay, running once again to the northward edge of the timber, wonderingwhat could be amiss. Field was lying on his blanket, just under thebank, as the captain darted by, and grinned his gratification as heheard the brief, assuring words: "Webb's here--all hands with him." Aninstant later a bullet whizzed through the roots of the old cottonwoodabove his head, and from far out afield, deadened by the rush of thewind, a dull crackle of shots told that something had recalled the Siouxto the attack, and for three minutes there was a lively fusillade allalong the northward side. Then it slowly died away, and other voices,close at hand,--someone speaking his name,--called the lad's attention.He was weak from loss of blood, and just a little dazed and flighty. Hehad meant three hours agone that when next he encountered his postcommander his manner should plainly show that senior that even a secondlieutenant had rights a major was bound to respect. But, only mistilynow, he saw bending over him the keen, soldierly features,--the kind,winsome gray eyes, filled with such a world of concern andsympathy,--and heard the deep, earnest tones of the voice he knew sowell, calling again his name and mingling cordial praise and anxiousinquiry, and all the rancor seemed to float away with the smoke of thelast carbine shots. He could only faintly return the pressure of thatfirm, muscular hand, only feebly smile his thanks and reassurance, andthen he, too, seemed floating away somewhere into space, and he couldnot manage to connect what Webb had been saying with the next words thatfastened on his truant senses. It must have been hours later, too, fordarkness had settled on the valley. A little fire was burning under theshelter of the bank. A little group of soldiers were chatting in lowtone, close at hand. Among them, his arm in a sling, stood a stockylittle chap whose face, seen in the flickering light, was familiar tohim. So was the eager brogue in which that little chap was speaking. Asteward was remonstrating, and only vaguely at first, Field grasped themeaning of his words:--

  "The captain said you were not to try to follow, Kennedy, at least notuntil Dr. Waller saw you. Wait till he gets here. He can't be threemiles back now."

  "To hell wid ye!" was the vehement answer. "D'ye think I'd bemaundherin' here wid the whole command gone on afther thim bloody Sioux.I've made my mark on wan o' thim, an' he's the buck I'm afther."

  "He's made his mark on _you_, Kennedy," broke in a soldier voice. "Youmad fool, trying to tackle a chief like that--even if he was hit, for hehad his whole gang behind him."

  "Sure he dared me out, an'--what's this he called me? a d----d whiskeythafe!--me that niver----"

  "Oh, shut up, Kennedy," laughed a brother Irishman. "You were full as agoat at 'K' Troop's stables--Where'd ye get the whiskey if----"

  "I'll lay you, Lanigan, when I get two hands agin, though I misdoubt wanwould do it. It's me horse I want now and lave to go on wid the capt'n.Ready now, sir," he added, with sudden change of tone and manner, for atall, slender form came striding into the fire light, and Field knewBlake at the instant, and would have called but for the first word fromthe captain's lips.

  "_Your_ heart's safe, Kennedy. I wish your head was. Your past master inblasphemy out there won't eat it, at all events."

  "Did ye get him, sorr,--afther all?"

  "_I_ didn't. His English spoiled my aim. 'Twas Winsor shot him. Now,you're to stay here, you and Kilmaine. The doctor may bring despatches,and you follow us with the first to come." An orderly had led forth asaddled horse, and Blake's foot was already in the stirrup. "They sayit was Red Fox himself, Kennedy," he added. "Where on earth did you meethim before?"

  "Shure, _I_ niver knew him, sorr," was the quick reply, as Blake's long,lean leg swung over the big charger's back and the rider settled insaddle.

  "But he knew _you_ perfectly well. He dared you by name, when we closedon them--you and Mr. Field."

  And when an hour later the veteran surgeon came and knelt by the side ofthe young officer reported seriously wounded, and took his hand and felthis pulse, there was something in the situation that seemed to call forimmediate action. "We'll get you back to Frayne to-morrow, Field," saidWaller, with kind intent. "Don't--worry now."

  "Don't do that, doctor," feebly, surprisingly moaned the fevered lad."Don't take me back to Frayne!"