CHAPTER XIX
A SLAP FOR THE MAJOR
The columns of Colonel Henry and Major Webb, as said "the Chief," hadunited, and here were two men who could be counted on to push thepursuit "for all they were worth." Hitherto, acting in the open countryand free from encumbrance, the Indians had been hard to reach. Now theywere being driven into their fastnesses among the mountains toward thedistant shelter whither their few wounded had been conveyed, and wherethe old men, the women and children were in hiding. Now it meant that,unless the troops could be confronted and thrown back, another transferof tepees and _travois_, ponies and dogs, wounded and aged would have tobe made. Lame Wolf had thought his people safe behind the walls of theBig Horn and the shifting screen of warriors along the foothills, butthe blue skirmish lines pushed steadily on into the fringing pines,driving the feathered braves from ridge to ridge, and Lame Wolf hadsense enough to see that here were leaders that "meant business" andwould not be held. Henry had ten veteran troops at his back when heunited with Webb, who led his own and the Beecher squadron, makingeighteen companies, or troops, of Horse, with their pack mules, all outat the front, while the wagon train and ambulances were thoroughlyguarded by a big battalion of sturdy infantry, nearly all of them goodmarksmen, against whose spiteful Springfields the warriors made only oneessay in force, and that was more than enough. The blue coats emptiedmany an Indian saddle and strewed the prairie with ponies, and sentWhistling Elk and his people to the right about in sore dismay, and thenit dawned on Lame Wolf that he must now either mislead the cavalryleader,--throw him off the track, as it were,--or move the villages,wounded, prisoners and all across the Big Horn river, where hereditaryfoemen, Shoshone and Absaraka, would surely welcome them red-handed.
It was at this stage of the game he had his final split with Stabber.Stabber was shrewd, and saw unerringly that with other columns out--fromCuster on the Little Horn and Washakie on the Wind River,--withreinforcements coming from north and south, the surrounding of the Siouxin arms would be but a matter of time. He had done much to get Lame Wolfinto the scrape and now was urging hateful measures as, unless they wereprepared for further and heavier losses, the one way out, and that waywas--surrender.
Now, this is almost the last thing the Indian will do. Not from fear ofconsequences at the hands of his captors, for he well knows that,physically, he is infinitely better off when being coddled by Uncle Samthan when fighting in the field. It is simply the loss of _prestige_among his fellow red men that he hates and dreads. Therefore, nothingshort of starvation or probable annihilation prompts him, as a rule, toyield himself a prisoner. Stabber urged it rather than risk furtherbattle and further loss, but Stabber had long been jealous of theyounger chief, envied him his much larger following and his record as afighter, and Stabber, presumably, would be only too glad to see himfallen from his high estate. They could then enjoy the hospitality of agenerous nation (a people of born fools, said the unreasoning andunregenerate red man) all winter, and, when next they felt sufficientlyslighted to warrant another issue on the warpath, they could take thefield on equal terms. Lame Wolf, therefore, swore he'd fight to thebitter end. Stabber swore he'd gather all his villagers, now herdingwith those of Wolf; and, having segregated his sheep from the morenumerous goats, would personally lead them whither the white man couldnot follow. At all events he made this quarrel the pretext for hiswithdrawal with full five score fighting men, and Lame Wolf cursed himroundly as the wretch deserved and, all short-handed now, with hardlyfive hundred braves to back him, bent his energies to checking Henry'scolumn in the heart of the wild hill country.
And this was the situation when the general's first despatches were sentin to Frayne,--this the last news to reach the garrison from the distantfront for five long days, and then one morning, when the snow wassifting softly down, there came tidings that thrilled the littlecommunity, heart and soul--tidings that were heard with mingled tearsand prayers and rejoicings, and that led to many a visit ofcongratulation to Mrs. Hay, who, poor woman, dare not say at the momentthat she had known it all as much as twenty-four hours earlier, despitethe fact that Pete and Crapaud were banished from the roll of herauxiliaries.
Even as the new couriers came speeding through the veil of fallingflakes, riding jubilantly over the wide-rolling prairie with their newsof victory and battle, the post commander at Fort Frayne was puzzlingover a missive that had come to him, he knew not how, mysterious as theanarchists' warnings said to find their way to the very bedside of theguarded Romanoffs. Sentry Number 4 had picked it up on his post an hourbefore the dawn--a letter addressed in bold hand to Major Stanley Flint,commanding Fort Frayne, and, presuming the major himself had dropped it,he turned it over to the corporal of his relief, and so it found its waytoward reveille into the hands of old McGann, wheezing about his work ofbuilding fires, and Michael laid it on the major's table and thought nomore about it until two hours later, when the major roused and read, andthen a row began that ended only with the other worries of hisincumbency at Frayne.
Secretly Flint was still doing his best to discover the bearer when camethe bold riders from the north with their thrilling news. Secretly, hehad been over at the guard-house interviewing as best he could, by theaid of an unwilling clerk who spoke a little Sioux, a young Indian girlwhom Crabb's convalescent squad, four in number, had most unexpectedlyrun down when sent scouting five miles up the Platte, and brought,screaming, scratching and protesting back to Frayne. Her pony had beenkilled in the dash to escape, and the two Indians with her seemed to beyoung lads not yet well schooled as warriors, for they rode awaypellmell over the prairie, leaving the girl to the mercy of thesoldiers. Flint believed her to be connected in some way with the comingof the disturbing note, which was why he compelled her detention at theguard-house. Under Webb's _regime_ she would have been questioned byHay, or some one of his household. Under Flint, no one of Hay's familyor retainers could be allowed to see her. He regarded it as mostsignificant that her shrillest screams and fiercest resistance shouldhave been reserved until just as her guardians were bearing her past thetrader's house. She had the little light prison room to herself all thatwintry morning, and there, disdainful of bunk or chair, enveloped in herblanket, she squatted disconsolate, greeting all questioners withdefiant and fearless shruggings and inarticulate protest. Not a syllableof explanation, not a shred of news could their best endeavors wringfrom her. Yet her glittering eyes were surely in search of some one, forshe looked up eagerly every time the door was opened, and Flint was justbeginning to think he would have to send for Mrs. Hay when the courierscame with their stirring news and he had to drop other affairs in orderto forward this important matter to headquarters.
Once again, it seems, Trooper Kennedy had been entrusted withdistinguished duty, for it was he who came trotting foremost up theroad, waving his despatch on high. A comrade from Blake's troop,following through the ford, had turned to the left and led his horse upthe steep to the quarters nearest the flagstaff. This time there was nobig-hearted post commander to bid the Irishman refresh himself _adlibitum_. Flint was alone at his office at the moment, and knew not thisstrange trooper, and looked askance at his heterodox garb and war-wornguise. Such laxity, said he to himself, was not permitted where _he_ hadhitherto served, which was never on Indian campaign. Kennedy, havingdelivered his despatches, stood mutely expectant of question andstruggling with an Irishman's enthusiastic eagerness to tell the detailsof heady fight. But Flint had but one method of getting at facts--theofficial reports--and Kennedy stood unnoticed until, impatient at last,he queried:--
"Beg pardon, sir, but may we put up our horses?"
"Who's we?" asked the major, bluntly. "And where are the others?"
"Trigg, sir--Captain Blake's troop. He went to the captain's quarterswith a package."
"He should have reported himself first to the post commander," said themajor, who deemed it advisable to make prompt impression on these savagehunters of savage game.
"Thim wasn't his ordhers,
surr," said Kennedy, with zealous, butmisguided loyalty to his comrades and his regiment.
"No one has a right, sir, to give orders that are contrary in spirit tothe regulations and customs of the service," answered the commander,with proper austerity. "Mr. Wilkins," he continued, as the burlyquartermaster came bustling in, "have the other trooper sent to reportat once to me and let this man wait outside till I am ready to see him."
And so it happened that a dozen members of the garrison gathered, fromthe lips of a participant, stirring particulars of a spirited chase andfight that set soldiers to cheering and women and children toextravagant scenes of rejoicing before the official head of the garrisonwas fairly ready to give out the news. Kennedy had taken satisfactionfor the commander's slights by telling the tidings broadcast to thecrowd that quickly gathered, and, in three minutes, the word was flyingfrom lip to lip that the troops had run down Lame Wolf's main villageafter an all day, all night rush to head them off, and that with verysmall loss they had been able to capture many of the families and toscatter the warriors among the hills. In brief, while Henry, with themain body, had followed the trail of the fighting band, Webb had beendetached and, with two squadrons, had ridden hard after a Shoshone guidewho led them by a short cut through the range and enabled them to pounceon the village where were most of Lame Wolf's noncombatants, guardedonly by a small party of warriors, and, while Captains Billings and Raywith their troops remained in charge of these captives, Webb, with Blakeand the others had pushed on in pursuit of certain braves who hadscampered into the thick of the hills, carrying a few of the wounded andprisoners with them. Among those captured, or recaptured, were Mr. Hayand Crapaud. Among those who had been spirited away was Nanette Flower.This seemed strange and unaccountable.
And yet Blake had found time to write to his winsome wife,--to send heran important missive and most important bit of news. It was with theseshe came running in to Mrs. Ray before the latter had time to half readthe long letter received from her soldier husband, and we take the factsin the order of their revelation.
"Think of it, Maidie!" she cried. "Think of it! Gerald's first words,almost, are 'Take good care of that pouch and contents,' and now pouchand contents are gone! Whoever dreamed that they would be of suchconsequence? He says the newspaper will explain."
And presently the two bonny heads were bent over the big sheets of adingy, grimy copy of a Philadelphia daily, and there, on an inner page,heavily marked, appeared a strange item, and this Quaker City journalhad been picked up in an Ogalalla camp. The item read as follows:
AN UNTAMED SIOUX
The authorities of the Carlisle School and the police of Harrisburg are hunting high and low for a young Indian known to the records of the Academy as Ralph Moreau, but borne on the payrolls of Buffalo Bill's Wild West aggregation as Eagle Wing--a youth who is credited with having given the renowned scout-showman more trouble than all his braves, bronchos and "busters" thereof combined. Being of superb physique and a daring horseman, Moreau had been forgiven many a peccadillo, and had followed the fortunes of the show two consecutive summers until Cody finally had to get rid of him as an intolerable nuisance.
It seems that when a lad of eighteen, "Eagle Wing" had been sent to Carlisle, where he ran the gamut of scrapes of every conceivable kind. He spoke English picked up about the agencies; had influential friends and, in some clandestine way, received occasional supplies of money that enabled him to take French leave when he felt like it. He was sent back from Carlisle to Dakota as irreclaimable, and after a year or two on his native heath, reappeared among the haunts of civilization as one of Buffalo Bill's warriors. Bill discharged him at Cincinnati and, at the instance of the Indian Bureau, he was again placed at Carlisle, only to repeat on a larger scale his earlier exploits and secure a second transfer to the Plains, where his opportunities for devilment were limited. Then Cody was induced to take him on again by profuse promises of good behavior, which were kept until Pennsylvania soil was reached two weeks ago, when he broke loose again; was seen in store clothes around West Philadelphia for a few days, plentifully supplied with money, and next he turned up in the streets of Carlisle, where he assaulted an attache of the school, whose life was barely saved by the prompt efforts of other Indian students. Moreau escaped to Harrisburg, which he proceeded to paint his favorite color that very night, and wound up the entertainment by galloping away on the horse of a prominent official, who had essayed to escort him back to Carlisle. It is believed that he is now in hiding somewhere about the suburbs, and that an innate propensity for devilment will speedily betray him to the clutches of the law.
A few moments after reading this oddly interesting story the two friendswere in consultation with Mrs. Dade, who, in turn, called in Dr. Waller,just returning from the hospital and a not too satisfactory visit to Mr.Field. There had been a slight change for the better in the condition ofGeneral Field that had enabled Dr. Lorain of Fort Russell and a localphysician to arrange for his speedy transfer to Cheyenne. This had in ameasure relieved the anxiety of Waller's patient, but never yet had theveteran practitioner permitted him to know that he was practically aprisoner as well as a patient. Waller feared the result on sohigh-strung a temperament, and had made young Field believe that, whenstrong and well enough to attempt the journey, he should be sent to RockSprings. Indeed, Dr. Waller had no intention of submitting to MajorFlint's decision as final. He had written personally to the medicaldirector of the department, acquainting him with the facts, and,meanwhile, had withdrawn himself as far as possible, officially andsocially, from the limited circle in which moved his perturbedcommanding officer.
He was at a distant point of the garrison, therefore, and listening tothe excited and vehement comments of the younger of the three women uponthis strange newspaper story, and its possible connection with mattersat Frayne, at the moment when a dramatic scene was being enacted overbeyond the guard-house.
Kennedy was still the center of a little group of eager listeners whenPink Marble, factotum of the trader's store, came hurrying forth fromthe adjutant's office, speedily followed by Major Flint. "You may tellMrs. Hay that while I cannot permit her to visit the prisoner," hecalled after the clerk, "I will send the girl over--under suitableguard."
To this Mr. Marble merely shrugged his shoulders and went on. He fanciedFlint no more than did the relics of the original garrison. A littlelater Flint personally gave an order to the sergeant of the guard andthen came commotion.
First there were stifled sounds of scuffle from the interior of theguard-house; then shrill, wrathful screams; then a woman's voiceunlifted in wild upbraidings in an unknown tongue, at sound of whichTrooper Kennedy dropped his rein and his jaw, stood staring one minute;then, with the exclamation: "Mother of God, but I know that woman!"burst his way through the crowd and ran toward the old log blockhouse atthe gate,--the temporary post of the guard. Just as he turned the cornerof the building, almost stumbling against the post commander, there camebursting forth from the dark interior a young woman of the Sioux,daring, furious, raging, and, breaking loose from the grasp of the twoluckless soldiers who had her by the arms, away she darted down theroad, still screaming like some infuriated child, and rushed straightfor the open gateway of the Hays. Of course the guard hastened inpursuit, the major shouting "Stop her! Catch her!" and the men strivingto appear to obey, yet shirking the feat of seizing the fleeing woman.Fancy, then, the amaze of the swiftly following spectators when thetrader's front door was thrown wide open and Mrs. Hay herself sprangforth. Another instant and the two women had met at the gate. Anotherinstant still, and, with one motherly arm twining about the quivering,panting, pleading girl and straining her to the motherly heart, Mrs.Hay's right hand and arm flew up in the superb gesture known the widefrontier over as the Indian signal "Halt!" And halt they did, everymother's son save Kennedy, who sprang
to the side of the girl and facedthe men in blue. And then another woman's voice, rich, deep, ringing,powerful, fell on the ears of the amazed, swift-gathering throng, withthe marvellous order: "Stand where you are! You shan't touch a hair ofher head! She's a chief's daughter. She's my own kin and I'll answer forher to the general himself. As for you," she added, turning now andglaring straight at the astounded Flint, all the pent-up sense of wrath,indignity, shame and wrong overmastering any thought of prudence or of"the divinity that doth hedge" the commanding officer, "As for you," shecried, "I pity you when our own get back again! God help you, StanleyFlint, the moment my husband sets eyes on you. D'you know the messagethat came to him this day?" And now the words rang louder and clearer,as she addressed the throng. "_I_ do, and so do officers and gentlemenwho'd be shamed to have to shake hands with such as he. He's got myhusband's note about him now, and what my husband wrote was this--'Icharge myself with every dollar you charge to Field, and with thefurther obligation of thrashing you on sight'--and, mark you, he'll doit!"