It could be seen that General Custer was thoroughly indignant. But
first he must ask about the wounded picket, who proved to be badly
hurt, not fatally. Then he must change his night-gown for a more
practical field costume. When he emerged from his tent, he was again
ready for business.
“I’d like to know who those fellows are, and what they mean,” he
denounced, furiously, among his officers. “We’ve done nothing, to make
them attack us. Send out an interpreter, Moylan, and ask for a parley.”
The Indians were still collected, upon their ponies, about a mile
distant. Their figures showed black in the dawn brightening across the
vast, boundless prairie. Where in the far east prairie met sky was a
strip of glowing pink.
The interpreter, a squaw-man from Fort McPherson, with a Sioux wife,
rode out and on the river bank made circles with his horse. This
signalled: “We want to talk.” One of the Indians answered with the same
sign, and a part of them came forward.
“Tell them that seven of us will meet seven of them, at the river, for
a talk,” directed the general to the interpreter.
Riding forward again the interpreter cried across the space to the
Indians, and the matter was quickly arranged.
“Captain Hamilton, you will assume command here,” directed the general.
“Keep the men under arms, and be ready to move forward to us at the
first signal by the trumpeter. Dr. Coates, you’d better come along with
the rest of us; you’re anxious to know the Indians. Moylan, Thompson,
Tom Custer, Yates, Johnson. Change your revolvers from your holsters
to your belts, gentlemen. Then you can get at them, in case of need.
Those fellows (and he jerked his head toward the Indians) are not to be
trusted, evidently.”
They rode away, Ned of course accompanying. From the opposite direction
were approaching to meet them the seven chiefs. The river was the
conference point, for it lay about in the middle between the two
parties. Just before reaching it the general halted, and dismounted.
Dismounted all except Ned.
“Hold these horses, orderly,” instructed the general, to Ned; “and
watch sharp. Watch the Indians, especially, and at the least trouble or
any sign of treachery you blow the ‘advance.’”
“Yes, sir,” replied Ned.
Surrounded by the seven horses he sat, their lines in his hands, while
the general and the other officers proceeded on, down to the edge of
the water.
The banks on this side were smooth and grassy; on the other they were
cut by arroyos or ravines and grown with willows. So the officers
waited, for the Indians to cross to the open side. The chiefs also
dismounted, and began to take off their leggins, to wade. Through the
shallow current they boldly splashed, holding high their moccasins and
guns, out of the wet.
“Huh!” from his horse suddenly ejaculated Ned, scarce believing his
eyes. For the leading chief was Pawnee Killer himself!
But Pawnee Killer did not appear at all abashed, nor confused by the
fact that after having visited the general in camp at Fort McPherson
and having promised to be peaceable, he had tried here to steal the
column’s horses and to rush the camp.
“How?” he grunted, shaking hands with the officers. And “How?” grunted
in turn all his squad.
They were well armed. Usually in a conference weapons are left behind;
but this was a conference with the weapons ready. Ned sat intent,
gazing hard, to catch every movement of the seven chiefs and also of
the main party, at the distance. He could not hear much of what was
being said. He learned afterward that the general did not say anything
about the attack on the camp, but wanted to know about the village;
and that Pawnee Killer did not say anything about the village, but
wanted to know where the cavalry were going. And neither side found out
much about the other!
While Ned was peering, and waiting, alert, he saw another Indian
suddenly step forth from among the willows, and cross as had the
chiefs. This was a younger Indian, fully armed. He shook hands all
around, saying “How?” Scarcely had he finished, and the talk was
continuing, when yet another Indian crossed, in exactly the same manner.
Ned fidgeted. That was a great scheme: for the Sioux warriors to steal
up, through the ravines and the willows, and one by one cross. Pawnee
Killer could not think very highly of General Custer’s smartness, if he
supposed that these additions, one at a time, were not noticed. Because
the general was young and new to Indian fighting, and had been lied to,
and still was being deceived, apparently, Pawnee Killer must consider
that he did not amount to much.
Presently two more Indians had crossed, so that now there were eleven,
to the seven whites. Ned’s heart beat rapidly. The situation was
getting serious. He shifted the lines of the horses, so as to use his
right hand to raise the bugle to his lips. The “Advance” repeated
itself over and over in his brain. But listen! General Custer’s voice
rose emphatic.
“Tell this chief that if another man of his crosses the river, my men
will all advance ready to fight. Tell him that bugler is watching,
ready to blow the signal.”
[Illustration: “TELL THIS CHIEF THAT IF ANOTHER MAN OF HIS CROSSES THE
RIVER MY MEN WILL ADVANCE”]
When this was translated to Pawnee Killer (who had understood by the
tone) he made some sort of a reply, but he waved his hand at his party,
signing them to stay back. He had found out that the young white chief
with the yellow hair was not such a fool, after all.
Then the conference broke up. As the general and the other officers
started away, Pawnee Killer stretched out his hand, demanding
something. The general spoke abruptly:
“No. I should say not. Not until he moves his village in close to a
post, as he promised.” And returned to mount his horse, the general
still was grumbling, half enraged, half amused. “Sugar, coffee and
ammunition! He’s the most consummate rascal I ever met. He wants us to
feed him so that he can follow us, and equip him so that he can kill
us. He ought to have saved some of the ammunition that he used on us so
recklessly this morning!”
Pawnee Killer and his chiefs and warriors had gone galloping off, and
soon the whole party were retreating across the plains. General Custer
angrily ordered “Boots and Saddles,” for a pursuit, to see where the
village lay. But Pawnee Killer was again too cunning for the yellow
haired general. Away went the Sioux, racing freely; after them pressed
the cavalry, the general in the lead. Had all the cavalry horses been
like Phil Sheridan the troops might at least have kept the Indians
in sight; as it was, the lightly laden ponies and their easy riders
dwindled and dwindled, and soon disappeared in the horizon. So the
cavalry must quit, before getting too far from camp.
Now more Indians were sighted, in another direction.
“My compliments to Captain Hamilton, and tell him to take his troop and
see what those other fellows are up to,” ordered the general, promptly,
to Adjutant Moylan.
Away gladly trotted the troop of young Captain Hamilton, whose first
lieutenant was Colonel Tom Custer. With two such officers, this was a
crack troop of fighters. Besides, there went the active Doctor Coates,
also. The general smiled.
“The doctor’s bound to get as close to the Indians as he can. First
thing we know he’ll join a tribe! Now,” he added, gravely, his face
showing anxious lines, “I wish we knew that Elliot was all right, and
was getting through to Sedgwick. There’s the chance that the Indians
don’t know he’s gone. His escort is so small he can travel fast. That’s
one comfort. Cook and Robbins can take care of themselves, pretty well,
as long as their escort stays together.”
Captain Hamilton’s troop had been swallowed up among the swales to the
north; and while the general and his staff discussed ways and means,
many eyes were directed northward, and many ears were strained, to
catch any token of a fight or of further pursuit.
Nothing came back, drifting in from the northward. The general and the
adjutant and other officers talked, and the men sat more at ease, and
the minutes passed. The sun was high in the east; a strong breeze blew
across the plains, waving the longer grasses. Then, on a sudden, there
was thud of rapid hoofs, a panting and a snorting, and almost before
anybody could turn about, into the camp had rushed, at top speed of his
horse, Doctor Coates. Scarcely drawing rein he fell off, rather than
dismounted, and lay gasping, trying to speak.
To him rushed officers and men.
“What’s the matter, doctor?”
“Hurt?”
“Speak, man!”
“Can’t you talk?”
“Where’s Hamilton?”
“Attacked?”
The doctor nodded violently.
“Boots and saddles, there!” ordered the general, sharply. “Hurry, men!”
Smartly Ned blew the call. The men ran hither, thither, tugging their
horses into line. Now the doctor was able to speak.
“Indians! Over yonder! Got him—surrounded. Almost got me—too.”
“How far?”
“About five miles.”
The general’s voice pealed louder than Ned’s trumpet.
“Prepare to mount—mount! Fours right, trot—march!”
Out from camp sallied, at brisk trot, the remnants of the squadrons,
to the rescue of Captain Hamilton and Lieutenant Tom Custer and their
troop. The doctor, on his blown horse, acted as guide.
There was no sound of firing; but as the column pushed on, trying
to make best speed and yet save strength for the fight, the doctor
explained.
“Indians tolled us on, then separated. Hamilton took after one party,
Tom after other. I went with Tom, until I dropped out at one side,
somehow, while I was looking about. Next thing I knew I was lost.
Pretty soon I heard a lot of firing, and when I reconnoitered I saw
Hamilton’s detachment, only half a mile away, with Indians all around
them. Thought I’d ride right through and help him; but the Indians
saw me first, and away they came, six or eight of ’em, making for me.
Almost got me, too, I tell you! Closed up within arrow range, and if my
horse hadn’t been as frightened as I was, and if camp hadn’t appeared
just when it did, my scalp would have been gone. I’m afraid Hamilton
is in a bad box. They out-numbered him, and had plenty of ammunition.”
“Tom may join him.”
“Yes, if Tom isn’t in the same fix. Country is full of Indians, I
believe.”
Two of the five miles had been put behind. It was scarce to be expected
that carbine shots could yet be heard; but nevertheless the silence
seemed ominous, as if the battle might be over; and with victory to
which side?
Trot, trot; jingle, jingle; across the grassy plain, with every man
leaning forward in his saddle, as if to get there sooner. Then Fall
Leaf, the Delaware, signaled back, from a little rise: “People in
sight.” The general and Adjutant Moylan clapped their glasses to their
eyes, and forthwith the general threw up his gauntleted hand in gesture
of relief.
“There they come,” he said. “Good! I see the troop guidon.”
Captain Hamilton’s troop it was, with all the men uninjured, and
with only one horse wounded. Captain Hamilton reported that he had
killed two warriors and had driven the other Indians away, without any
assistance from Lieutenant Tom Custer. Lieutenant Tom had pursued the
second knot of Indians, until after they had drawn him far enough they
had given him the slip. These Sioux were clever.
Blood had been shed. This was war. The Indians now would be hot for
revenge. And Major Elliot was still out, and so was the wagon train
for Fort Wallace. Returning with the wagon-train would come Mrs.
Custer. That was now the main thought in the camp. The Indians surely
would not miss a chance at such a prize as wagons of supplies. Why had
the general been so foolish as to send for Mrs. Custer, when it was
well known that Indians were abroad?
The general grew haggard all in an hour. Before night he had sent a
squadron under command of Major (who was a lieutenant-colonel) Myers,
to push right through and meet the train.
Then there was nothing to do but to wait. Three days passed, and in
rode the little party of Major Elliot, with the dispatches from Fort
Sedgwick. On the next day, hurrah! Here approached, weaving across the
plain like a huge snake, the white-topped army wagons and the escort
troops.
Out rode the general, to meet them; and particularly to meet Mrs.
Custer. The wagons all were there—twenty of them; the column of troops
looked intact; but from the wagons or from horse no handkerchief waved
greeting, and Ned, on Buckie thudding along behind the general, felt
a sudden cold chill. What if anything had happened to the sweet Mrs.
Custer, or to Diana of the dancing curls?
Major (who was also colonel) West was in command of the column, for he
was the senior officer.
“All right, colonel?” demanded the general, his eyes roving anxiously
along the winding line.
“All right, general. But we had quite a brush. That is, Cook and
Robbins did. Myers and I arrived just in time to see the enemy
disappear.”
“Mrs. Custer here?” queried the general, sharply.
“No, general. She didn’t leave Hays, fortunately. Cook can tell you
about it.”
Didn’t leave Hays! The general seemed to heave a great sigh of relief.
Camp and trail were no places for a white woman, even so plucky a one
as Mrs. Custer, or as pretty Diana. He dashed along the column, seeking
Lieutenant Cook.
“Well, Cook! Had a fight, I hear.”
“Yes, sir. They attacked us pretty severely, on our way out from
Wallace, before West and Myers joined us. We saw them coming, and
formed with the men on foot and the wagons and horses in the middle.
Then we kept right on moving forward, but they circled us savagely.
There were between six and seven hundred of them, weren’t there,
Comstock?”
“Fully so,” agreed Scout Will Comstock, who was riding near. “But
there ain’t as many now, gen’ral. We toppled five of ’em for keeps,
an’ there’s more red hides that’s got troublesome holes in ’em. But it
looked for a time as though our scalps was goin’ to pay. Six or seven
hundred Injuns warn’t goin’ to let fifty men stop ’em from gettin’ at
the sugar an’ coffee in those wagons.”
“Mrs. Custer didn’t start, then?” asked the general, of Lieutenant Cook.
“No, sir. Thank God she didn’t. She was ready to, had her baggage tied
up, and General Hancock forbade. I don’t think she liked that very
well. I have a letter for you from her.”
General Custer took the letter, and read it in the saddle.
From the talk it appeared that the wagon-train had fought hard and
well, for three hours. The wagons were scarred with bullets; in them
were several wounded men; and throughout the column were a number of
wounded horses and mules. Ned heard a conversation between Lieutenant
Cook and another officer, that showed how serious had been the
situation.
“Would you have done it, Cook?” asked the officer, keenly.
Lieutenant Cook firmly nodded.
“I should. When the attack developed I said to myself, at once: ‘If
Mrs. Custer were here, in my charge, the first thing I must do would be
to ride to her ambulance and mercifully shoot her. That is my solemn
promise to the general.’”
“Whew!” sighed the other officer, gravely. “That would be horrible. But
not so horrible,” he added, “as to let her or any other white woman
fall alive into the hands of the Indians.”
“We promised the general, in regard to Mrs. Custer,” said the
lieutenant. “He made us promise, and he knows that we intended to keep
our word.”
“You’d have waited, a little?” pursued the officer.
Lieutenant Cook shook his head.
“No, sir. Not a moment. I love Mrs. Custer like a sister; and the
thought that she was dependent on me, and helpless in the ambulance,
would have driven me distracted. I should have obeyed orders—and you
know what they are. Then I should have fought to the last, and should
not have expected to face the general. My course, first and last, was
clear. But it didn’t come necessary.”
A Canadian was Lieutenant William Cook, with long black side-whiskers
and handsome kindly face. He had served through the Civil War, and was
accounted one of the best officers in the Seventh. By reason of his
birth they called him “Queen’s Own” Cook.
X