And now indeed came for Marshall Dean a time in which he could see a
divided duty. A camp of woodchoppers in one of the deep, sequestered
valleys of the mountains had been suddenly set upon by a host of mounted
Indians that seemed, like the warriors born of the dragon's teeth, to
spring up from the earth, and yelling like fiends bore down upon the
little guard. Happily for the woodchoppers, but unluckily for Lo, the
commander was a cool-headed veteran of the late war who had listened
time and again to yells as frantic and had withstood charge after charge
ten times as determined. Most unluckily for Lo the infantry company was
armed with the new Springfield breech-loader, and when the band came
exultantly on, having, as they supposed, drawn the fire when full four
hundred yards away, they were confounded by the lively crackle and
sputter of rifles along the timber in front of them, toppling many a
dashing warrior to earth and strewing the ground with slaughtered
ponies. That charge failed, but they rallied in furious force. There
were only forty soldiers: they had five hundred braves, so on they came
again from three different points, and again did Powell's sheltered blue
coats scatter them like red autumn leaves before the storm. Thrice and
four times did they essay to stampede the soldiers and sweep off their
own dead and wounded, and each time were they soundly thrashed, thanks
to cool courage and the new breech-loaders. And Red Cloud, cursing his
medicine men, drew off his baffled braves and the hills that night
resounded to their vengeful war-whoops and echoed back the wailing of
the Indian women mourning over the slain. "All well enough so far,
lads," cried Folsom, when he heard the news. "Machpealota is unmasked.
It's war to the knife now, so for God's sake send all the troops you can
muster to the aid of those already up there in the Big Horn. Next time
he hits he'll have all the Northern Sioux at his back, you mark my
words!"
But, who the devil is John Folsom? said the Bureau again. Arrest Red
Cloud. Bring his band in prisoners, were the orders to the agents, and
the agents called for troops to go and do their bidding. It's one thing,
as I've had occasion to say before, to stand off with breech-loaders a
thousand Indians armed only with old percussion cap muskets, squirrel
rifles, bows, clubs and lances; it's another thing for soldiers armed
even with the best the market affords, to march into an Indian position
and arrest an Indian chief. There were not soldiers enough north of the
Platte to do it, and the War Department knew it if the Bureau didn't.
Hence the mustering in force along the river, and the mounting in hot
haste of perhaps ten more troops and companies, nowhere near enough for
the work in hand, but all the nation had within a month's march that
could possibly be spared from other work and work more important.
And there was wrath at Emory, where the colonel found himself ordered to
send all his transportation to Frayne forthwith, and all his remaining
troops except one of foot. "Damnation! I've only got two companies of
foot," he screamed, in the shrill treble of piping senility. "And they
mean to rob me of my cavalry, too! 'C' troop is ordered to be held in
readiness for special service."
The transportation, consisting of three wagons and two ambulances, with
the somber company of infantry, started next day, however, and Dean,
with eager expectancy kept his men in camp, cooked rations ready,
ammunition pouches filled, arms and equipments overhauled and in perfect
order, horses examined and reshod, ready for the word that might come
any minute and carry him--he knew not whither. Folsom and the girls had
to drive back to dinner without him. Despite the permission sent by the
colonel, he would not leave his troop and go in town. So back they came
in the soft moonlight and spent a long, lovely summer evening with him,
while the band played melodiously in the fort inclosure, and the stars
twinkled over the peaks of the Rockies in the southern skies. Folsom
spent the hours wiring to Omaha and conferring with such officers as he
could reach. They thought the lesson given Red Cloud would end the
business. He knew it would only begin it. Burleigh, saying that he must
give personal attention to the selection of the teams and wagons, spent
the early evening in his corral, but sent word to Folsom that he hoped
to see him in the morning on business of great importance. He had other
hopes, too, one of them being that now the order to send that big sum in
currency to the new stockade would be revoked. He had lost no time in
suggesting to the chief quartermaster of the department the extreme
hazard. He quoted Folsom as saying that before we could send one hundred
men to Warrior Gap Red Cloud could call five thousand, and the chief
quartermaster, being a man of method and a stranger to the frontier
said, as said the Bureau "Who the devil is John Folsom? Do as you are
told." But that answer only came the following day. Meantime there was
respite and hope.
Long lived that beautiful evening in the memory of four young hearts. A
sweet south wind had been gently playing all day and left the night warm
and fragrant of the pines and cedars in the mountain parks. All Fort
Emory seemed made up of women and children now, for such few soldiers as
were left, barring the bandsmen, were packing or helping pack and store
about the barracks. From soon after eight until nearly ten the musicians
occupied their sheltered wooden kiosk on the parade, and filled the air
with sweet strains of waltz or song or stirring martial melody.
For an hour, with Elinor Folsom on his arm, young Dean was strolling up
and down the moonlit walk, marveling over the beauty of her dark, yet
winsome face, and Loomis and Jessie, stanch friends already, sauntered
after them. For a time the merry chat went on unbroken. They were
talking of that never-to-be-forgotten visit to the Point--Pappoose's
first--and of the hop to which the tall cadet captain took the timid
schoolgirl, and of her hop card and the distinguished names it bore, as
names ran in the old days of the battalion; of Ray, who danced so
beautifully and rode so well--he was with the --th cavalry now somewhere
along the U. P., said Dean--and of Billings the cadet adjutant; he was
with a light battery in Louisiana. "Where this Captain Newhall is
stationed," interrupted Pappoose, with quick, upward look. "I wonder if
he knows him, Mr. Dean."
"He doesn't like him, I'll venture to say," said Dean, "if Newhall
doesn't suit you and Jessie, and I'm sure I shan't." And then they went
on to talk of the lovely dance music they had at the Point that
summer, and how bewitchingly Elsen used to play that pretty
galop--"Puckwudjies"--the very thing for a moonlit night. One could
almost see the Indian fairies dancing about their tiny fires.
"It was that galop--my first at West Point--that I danced with Cadet
Captain Dean," said Pappoose, looking blithely up into his steadfast
eyes. "You've no idea what a proud girl I was!" They were at the upper
end of the parade at the moment. The kiosk was only fifty yards away,
its band lights sparkling under the canopy, the moonlight glinting on
the smooth surface of the dancing floor that an indulgent post commander
had had placed there. Half a dozen young garrison girls, arm in arm and
by twos, were strolling about its waxen face awaiting the next piece;
and some of them had been importuning the leader, for at the moment,
soft and rippling, sweet and thrilling, quick and witching, the
exquisite opening strains of "Puckwudjies" floated out upon the night.
"Oh, Jess! Listen!" cried Elinor in ecstasy and surprise, as she turned
back with quickly beating heart.
"No, no, indeed!" replied her soldier escort, with a throb in his breast
that echoed and overmastered that in her own. "No time to listen--come!
It was your first galop at the Point--let it be our first in Wyoming."
And in a moment more the tall, lithe, supple, slender forms were gliding
about the dancing-floor in perfect time to the lovely music, but now her
dark eyes could not meet the fire in the blue. Following their lead,
Loomis and Jessie joined the dance. Other couples from along the row
hastened to the scene. In five minutes a lively hop was on at Emory, and
when at last, breathing a little hurriedly and with heightened color,
Elinor Folsom glanced up into his joyous and beaming face--"You had
forgotten that galop, Mr. Dean," she archly said, but down went the dark
eyes again at his fervent reply.
"Yes, I admit it; but so long as I live I'll never forget this."
Small wonder was it that when Burleigh came driving out at tattoo for a
brief conference with the colonel, his sallow face took on a darker
shade as he suddenly caught sight of that couple standing at the moment
apart from the dancers, seeing neither them nor him, hearing for the
moment no music but that which trembled in the tones of his deep voice,
for Elinor was strangely silent.
"Marshall Dean," whispered Jessie that night, as she hugged him before
being lifted to her seat, "tell me true, wasn't Pappoose's picture in
your heart pocket? Didn't that bullet crease it?"
"Promise on your honor not to tell, Jess," he whispered.
She nodded delightedly.
"Yes, and what's more, it's there now!"
Early on the morrow came further news. Troops from Steele and Bridger
were on the move, but no word came for the cavalry at Emory, and
Marshall Dean, hitherto most eager for field service, learned with joy
he felt ashamed to own that he had still another day to spend in the
society of Jessie and her friend. But how much of that elation Jessie
could have claimed as due to her every sister whose brother is in love
can better tell than I. At eight they came driving out to hear the band
at guard-mounting, though to old Pecksniff's pathetic sorrow he could
mount only twelve men all told. That ceremony over, they watched with
kindling eyes the sharp drill of Marshall's troop; that soldierly young
commander, one may feel well assured, showing his men, his horses, and
himself off to the best of his ability, as who would not have done under
such scrutiny as that. Loomis was with them, but Elinor drove, for her
father had urgent business, he said, and must remain at his office.
Major Burleigh, he added, was to meet him, whereat the girls were
silent.
"If you could have beard the major pleading with that cantankerous old
fool at the fort in Marshall's behalf you would get over your wrath at
Burleigh just as I did," said Folsom, to both, apparently, and still
neither answered. Burleigh was evidently _persona non grata_ in the eyes
of both. "He tells me Captain Newhall is still here, waiting for a train
to be made up to run back to Cheyenne. I'm afraid I'll have to ask him
to bring the captain to dinner to-day. Do you think Mr. Dean will care
to come?" he asked.
"I think he would rather not leave camp," said Jessie slowly. "Orders
may come any minute, he says."
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Folsom, vaguely relieved. Something told
him there was antagonism between the young fellow and Burleigh that
would be apt to involve Newhall, too. "I'll ask them both, if you don't
very much mind," he went on, whispering to Elinor. "And will you tell
Mrs. Fletcher? How is she this morning?"
"Just as usual, papa. She says she has rather violent headaches once in
a while, and she thinks it prudent to keep her room to-day. But I can
attend to everything." Indeed, thought the daughter, she wished she had
it all to do.
And so Folsom had gone to meet Burleigh, and the girls had planned, at
least Jessie had, that Marshall after drill should ride beside them into
town and have a chat in the parlor while she wrote to mother in the
library. But a thing happened that no one could have foreseen. Just
before drill was over and while they were still watching it from their
seats in the covered wagon, a buggy drove up alongside and Major
Burleigh jumped out, gave the reins to his companion and bade him come
to him as soon as he had finished what he wished to do at the sutler's.
The major's face was perturbed, that of his companion looked black and
ugly. It was Captain Newhall, and something was amiss. The latter barely
tipped his hat in driving away, the former heaved a sigh of relief, then
turned to greet the girls.
Ten minutes passed in constraint and awkwardness. Burleigh felt that he
was unwelcome, but his eyes were fixed in fascination on Elinor Folsom,
and he could not go. Presently drill was dismissed, and Dean, all aglow,
came galloping up, his orderly trumpeter following. Not until he had
joyously greeted both the girls did he see who was standing by the
forward wheel on the opposite side.
"Good-morning, Mr. Dean," said Burleigh affably. "I never saw that troop
look so well."
"Good-morning, sir," said Dean coldly. Then turned to speak again to
Miss Folsom when the buggy came whirring back.
"He isn't here, Burleigh," said the occupant petulantly. "He's in town,
and you've got to find him right off. Come on!"
Burleigh turned livid. "Captain Newhall," he said, "you fail to notice I
am with friends."
"They are friends who will be glad to get rid of you, then," replied the
stranger thickly, and it was easy to see that he had been drinking. All
the same Burleigh went.