CHAPTER X
"I'LL NEVER GO BACK"
A sharp affair indeed was that of this September day!--a fight longtalked of on the frontier if soon forgotten in "the States." Obedient tohis orders to push to the relief of the imperilled party on the DryFork, Ray had made good time to Moccasin Ridge, even though savinghorses and men for the test of the later hours. Well he knew his marchwould be watched by some of Stabber's band, but little did he dream atstarting that Indian strategy would take the unusual form of droppingwhat promised to be a sure thing, leaving the people at the stagestation to the guardianship of less than a dozen braves, and launchingout with a big band to aid a little one in attack on one lone detachmentthat might not come at all. But Lame Wolf reasoned that the peoplepenned at the stage station were in no condition to attempt escape. Theywere safe whenever he chose to return to them, and Lame Wolf knew thisof Stabber--that he had long been a hanger-on about the militaryreservations, that he had made a study of the methods of the whitechiefs, that he was able to almost accurately predict what their coursewould be in such event as this, and that Stabber had recently receivedaccessions whose boast it was that they had information at first hand ofthe white chief's plans and intentions. Stabber had sent swift runnersto Lame Wolf urging him to bring his warriors to aid him in surroundingthe first troops sent forth from Frayne. Stabber had noted, year afteryear, that it was the almost invariable policy of our leaders to order asmall force at the start, and then, when that was crushed, to follow itwith the big one that should have been sent in the first place.Kennedy's successful coming was known to Stabber quite as soon as it wasto Webb. It may well be that Stabber let him through, feeling confidentwhat the result would be, and then, despite a certain jealousy, notconfined entirely to savage rival leaders, Lame Wolf had confidence inStabber's judgment. Ray had expected long range flank fire, and possiblyoccasional resistance in front; but, assured of Stabber's paucity innumbers and believing Lame Wolf too busy to send Stabber substantialaid, he thought a sharp lesson or two would clear his front of suchIndians as sought to check him, and so rode serenely forward, rejoicingin his mission and in his game and devoted little command.
"Something beyond that second ridge," he had said to Field, in sendinghim forward with the bulk of the platoon, and Field, who had been silentand brooding, woke at the summons and, all animation at the scent ofdanger, spurred swiftly ahead to join the advance and see for himselfwhat manner of hindrance awaited them, leaving the baker's dozen of hisplatoon to trot steadily on under lead of its sergeant, while Ray, withhis trumpeter, followed mid way between his advance and Clayton'splatoon, intact, moving quietly at the walk and held in reserve.
Ordinarily Ray would himself have ridden to the far front and personallyinvestigated the conditions, but he was anxious that Field shouldunderstand he held the full confidence of his temporary commander. Hewished Field to realize that now he had opportunity for honorabledistinction, and a chance to show what was in him and, having sent himforward, Ray meant to rely on his reports and be ready to back, ifpossible, his dispositions. Nothing so quickly demolishes prejudice ingarrison as prowess in the field. Not infrequently has an officer goneforth under a cloud and returned under a crown. It is so much easier tobe a hero in a single fight than a model soldier through an entireseason--at least it was so in the old days.
But the moment Mr. Field dismounted and, leaving his horse with theothers along the slope, had gone crouching to the crest, he levelled hisglasses for one look, then turned excitedly and began rapid signals tohis followers. Presently a young trooper came charging down, makingstraight for Ray. "The lieutenant's compliments," said he, "but there'sa dozen Sioux in sight, and he wishes to know shall he charge."
A dozen Sioux in sight! That was unusual. Ordinarily the Indian keeps inhiding, lurking behind sheltering crests and ridges in the open country,or the trees and underbrush where such cover is possible. A dozen insight?
"How far ahead, Murray?" asked the captain, as he shook free his reinand started forward at the gallop. "Did you see them yourself?"
"Yes, sir. Most of 'em were bunched by the roadside, jabbing with theirlances at something or other. Two or three were closer in. They must ha'been watching us, for they only quit the ridge just before we came up.Then they skedaddled." The vernacular of the civil war days, long sinceforgotten except about the few Veteran Soldiers' Homes in the East, wasstill in use at times in regiments like the ----th, which had served thefour years through with the Army of the Potomac. Old sergeants give thetone to younger soldiers in all the customs of the service. The captainand the two men now with him had caught up with Field's swift trottingsupport by this time, and the eyes of the men kindled instantly at sightof their leader speeding easily by, cool, confident and as thoroughly athome as though it were the most ordinary skirmish drill. Those who havenever tried it, do not quite realize what it means to ride in closedranks and compact column, silent and unswerving, straight forward overopen fields toward some equally silent crest, that gives no sign ofhostile occupancy, and yet may suddenly blaze with vengeful fires andspit its hissing lead into the faces of the advancing force. Even herewhere the ridge was already gained by two or three of the advance,proving, therefore, that the enemy could not be in possession, men sawby the excitement manifest in the signals of the lieutenant, and indeedof Sergeant Scott, who had spent fifteen years in the ranks, thatIndians must be close at hand. The crest was barely five hundred yardsin front of the section, and they were still "bunched," a splendid markif the foe saw fit by sudden dash to regain the ridge and pour in rapidfire from their magazine rifles. Every ward of the nation, as a rule,had his Winchester or Henry,--about a six to one advantage to the redmen over the sworn soldier of the government in a short range fight. Thelieutenant was a brave lad and all that, and could be relied on to "dohis share in a shindy," as the sergeant put it, but when it came tohandling the troop to the best advantage, giving them full swing whenthey met the foe on even terms and a fair field, but holding them clearof possible ambuscade, then "Captain Billy is the boss in the business,"was the estimate of his men, and every heart beat higher at sight ofhim. He would know just what to do for them, and knowing, would do it.
Even as he went loping by Ray had half turned, with something like asmile in his dark eyes and a nod of his curly head to the sergeantcommanding, and a gesture of the gauntleted hand,--a horizontal sweep toright and left, twice repeated,--had given the veteran his cue, and withanother moment Winsor had the dozen in line at open, yet narrow,intervals, with carbines advanced and ready for business. They saw theircaptain ride swiftly up the gentle slope until close to the crest, thenoff he sprang, tossed his reins to the trumpeter and went hurryingafoot to join the lieutenant. They saw him kneeling as though to levelhis glasses and look fixedly forward; saw Field run back to his horseand mount in a twinkling; saw him whirl about as though coming to placehimself at their head, yet rein in at once--his charger's fore feetploughing the turf at some word from their leader. Field was eager tocharge, but Ray had seen for himself and for his men, and Ray said, no.Another moment and all at the front were again in saddle--Field backwith the advance, Ray coolly seated astride his pet sorrel,--scouting asecond ridge, far to the north, with his glasses, and sending, asbefore, Scott and his three troopers straight on to the front, andsignalling to the flankers to continue the move. Ten seconds' study ofthe position in the long, wide, shallow depression before him hadfathomed the scheme of the savage. The little knot of Indians,jabbering, yelping, prodding and circling about some unseen object onthe turf, feigning ignorance of the soldiers' coming, was at theold-time trick to get the foremost troopers to charge and chase, to drawthem on in all the dash and excitement of the moment, far ahead--threemiles, perhaps--of the main body, and so enable all the lurking bandbehind that second curtain, the farther ridge, to come swooping down tosurround, overwhelm and butcher the luckless few, then be off to safedistance long before the mass of the troop could possibly reach thescene.
"No
you don't, Stabber!" laughed Ray, as Field, not a little chagrined,and the dozen at his back, came trotting within hearing distance. "Thatdodge was bald-headed when I was a baby. Look, Field," he continued."They were jabbing at nothing there on the prairie. That was a fakecaptive they were stabbing to death. See them all scooting away now.They'll rally beyond that next ridge, and we'll do a little fooling ofour own."
And so, with occasional peep at feathered warriors on the far leftflank, and frequent hoverings of small parties on the distant front,Ray's nervy half hundred pushed steadily on. Two experiments hadsatisfied the Sioux that the captain himself was in command and they hadlong since recognized the sorrels. They knew of old Ray was not to becaught by time-worn tricks. They had failed to pick off the advance, orthe officers, as the troop approached the second ridge. Lame Wolf's bigband was coming fast, but only a dozen of his warriors, sent lashingforward, had as yet reached Stabber. The latter was too weak in numbersto think of fighting on even terms, and as Ray seemed determined to comeahead, why not let him? Word was sent to Wolf not to risk showing southof the Elk Tooth spur. There in the breaks and ravines would be a famousplace to lie in ambush, leaving to Stabber the duty of drawing thesoldiers into the net. So there in the breaks they waited while Ray'slong skirmish line easily manoeuvred the red sharp-shooters out of theirlair on the middle divide. Then, reforming column, the little commandbore straight away for the Elk.
But all these diversions took time. Twenty miles to the north of Fraynestretched the bold divide between the Elk Fork, dry as a dead tooth muchof the year, and the sandy bottom of the Box Elder. Here and therealong the ridge were sudden, moundlike upheavals that gave it apicturesque, castellated effect, for, unlike the general run of thecountry, the Elk Tooth seemed to have a backbone of rock that shot forthsoutheastward from the southern limit of the beautiful Big Horn range;and, in two or three places, during some prehistoric convulsion ofnature, it had crushed itself out of shape and forced upward a mass ofgleaming rock that even in the course of centuries had not beenovergrown with grass. "Elk teeth" the Indians had called these oddprojections, and one of them, the middle one of the three mostprominent, was a landmark seen for many a mile except to the south andwest. Eagle Butte was the only point south of the Big Horn and in thevalley of the Platte from which it could be seen, and famous were thesetwo points in the old days of the frontier for the beacon fires thatburned or the mirror signals that flashed on their summits when the warparties of the Sioux were afield.
It was the sight of puffs of smoke sailing skyward from the crest of themiddle tooth that caught Ray's attention the moment he reached thesecond ridge. A moment more had been devoted to recalling some of hiseager men who, from the extreme right of the swinging skirmish line, hadbroken away in pursuit of certain intentional laggards. Then a dozen ofthe Indians, finding themselves no longer followed, gathered atcomparatively safe distance across the prairie, and, while in eagerconsultation, found time for taunting, challenging and occasionallyfiring at the distant and angering troopers, whom Sergeant Scott hadsharply ordered back, and Ray, after calm survey of these fellowsthrough his glass, had then levelled it at the trio of buttes along thedistant ridge and turned to Field, sitting silent and disappointed byhis side.
"There, Field," said the captain. "Take this glass and look at thosesignal smokes--Stabber has more men now at his call than he had when hestarted, and more yet are coming. They were just praying you wouldcharge with a handful of men. They would have let you through, thenclosed around and cut you off. Do you see, boy?"
Field touched his hat brim. "You know them best, sir," was the briefanswer. "What I wanted was a chance at those fellows hanging about ourfront and calling us names."
"You'll get it, I'm thinking, before we're an hour older. They knowwhither we're bound and mean to delay us all they can. Ah, Clayton," headded, as the junior lieutenant rode up to join them, while his platoondismounted to reset saddles behind the screen of the skirmish line. "Menlook full of fight, don't they? There, if anywhere, is where we'll getit. I've just been showing Field those signal smokes. Mount and followwhen we're half way down to that clump of cottonwoods yonder. We mustreach those people at the stage station to-night, and I may have to givethese beggars a lesson first. Watch for my signal and come ahead livelyif I turn toward you and swing my hat. All ready, Field. Shove ahead."
And this was the last conference between the three officers thateventful morning. As once again the advance guard pushed cautiouslyforward toward the banks of the arroyo in the bottom, Ray turned toField. "Skirmish work suits you better than office duty, Field. You lookfar livelier than you did yesterday. Don't you begin to see that themajor was right in sending you out with us?" And the dark eyes of thetrained and experienced soldier shone kindly into the face of theyounger man.
"I'm glad to be with you, Captain Ray," was the prompt answer. "Itisn't--my being sent, but the _way_ I was sent, or the--cause for whichI was sent that stings me. I thought then, and I think now, that if youhad been post commander it wouldn't have been done. I don't know yetwhat charge has been laid at my door----"
"There was no time to talk of reasons, Field," interposed Ray, thoughhis keen eyes were fixed on the distant ridge ahead, beyond which thelast of the Indians had now disappeared. The outermost troopers, withSergeant Scott, were within a few hundred yards of the little clump ofcottonwoods that marked the site of a water hole. To the right and leftof it curved and twisted the dry water course between its low, jagged,precipitous banks. Behind the advance, full four hundred yards, rode theskirmish line from the first platoon, a dozen strong. Far out to theeast and west the flankers moved steadily northward, keenly watching theslopes beyond them and scanning the crooked line of the arroyo ahead.Not a sign at the moment could be seen of the painted foe, yet every manin the troop well knew they swarmed by dozens behind the buttes andridges ahead. Ray and Field, riding easily along in rear of the line,with only the trumpeter within earshot, relaxed in no measure thevigilance demanded by the situation, yet each was deeply concerned inthe subject of the talk.
"There was no time. We had to start at once," continued Ray. "Wait untilyou are back at the old desk, Field, and you'll find the major is, andwas, your stanch friend in this matter--"
"I'll never go back to it, captain!" broke in Field, impetuously. "Ifordered to resume duty as adjutant, come what may, I shall refuse."
But before Ray could interpose again there came sudden and stirringinterruption. From a point far down the "swale," from behind the lowbank of the stream bed, three rifle shots rang out on the crisp morningair. The horse of the leading flanker, away out to the right, reared andplunged violently, the rider seeming vainly to strive to check him.Almost instantly three mounted warriors were seen tearing madly awaynortheastward out of the gully, their feathers streaming in the wind.Field spurred away to join his men. Ray whirled about in saddle, andswung his broad-brimmed scouting hat high above his head, in signal toClayton; then shouted to Field. "Forward to the cottonwoods. Gallop!" hecried. "We need them first of all!"