A day had dawned on the Big Horn never to be forgotten by those who
watched the conflict from the stockade, never to be recalled by those
who went forth to fight. Broad daylight had come and the sun was peeping
over the far horizon as strong arms bore the unconscious officer within
the post, and the commander eagerly questioned the men who came with
him. Their story was quickly told. They had fled before overpowering
numbers of the Sioux the night before, had made their way through the
timber in the darkness and come ahead all night, groping their way from
ridge to ridge until at the peep of day they found themselves in sight
of familiar landmarks, and could see the gleam of the waters of the Fork
dancing away under the dawn. And then, as they essayed to ride on they
found the Indians all around them. Whichever way they turned the foe
appeared, but only in scattered parties and small numbers. Not once did
more than half a dozen appear in sight, and then confident of speedy
succor from the fort, they had decided to make a dash for it, and so
rode boldly out into the open. But now a score of warriors popped up and
barred the way, while others far out at flank or rear kept up long range
fire. One man was shot through the body and fainted and had to be borne
along. Then the lieutenant was shot in the leg, but no one knew it until
they saw his boot was running over with blood, and he was growing
ghastly white, even though he kept encouraging and directing. But when
at last the cavalry met them and brushed the Indians away from the
front, Captain Drum, who rode at their head, ordered Mr. Dean taken
right into the post while he dashed on to punish the Sioux, "and he is
giving them hell, too," said the excited trooper, "for there couldn't
have been more than a hundred Indians all told."
Ah, not in sight, perhaps, poor lads!--not in sight of horse, foot or
fort; for if there were only a hundred, how came it that the fire grew
fiercer still, and that presently every musket in the infantry skirmish
line, too, was blazing on the foe. By this time cavalry and infantry
both had disappeared over the curtaining ridge, and the colonel's face
grew grave and haggard as he listened. Three-fifths of his little
garrison were out there battling against unknown numbers. They had gone
to rescue the detachment and bring it safely in. That rescue was
accomplished. The precious package for which so much had been risked was
here--but what detained the command? Why did they not return? Beyond
doubt far more Indians were out there now than when first the firing
began. "Gallop out, Mr. Adjutant, and tell the major to withdraw his
line and fall back on the stockade," was the order--and with a lump in
his throat the young officer mounted again and started. He was a pet in
the garrison, only in his second year of commission. They saw him gallop
through the gate, saw him ride gallantly straight for the curtaining
ridge beyond which the smoke was rising heavily now, saw him breasting
the slope, his orderly following, saw him almost reach it, and then
suddenly the prairie seemed to jet fire. The foremost horse reared,
plunged, and went rolling over and over. They saw--plainly saw through
their glasses, and a shriek of agony and horror went up from among the
women at the sight--half a dozen painted savages spring out from behind
the ledge, some on pony back, some afoot, and bear down on the stricken
form of the slender young rider now feebly striving to rise from the
turf; saw the empty hand outstretched, imploring mercy; saw jabbing
lances and brandished war-clubs pinning the helpless boy to earth and
beating in the bared, defenseless head; saw the orderly dragged from
under his struggling horse and butchered by his leader's side; saw the
bloody knives at work tearing away the hot red scalps, then ripping off
the blood-soaked clothing, and, to the music of savage shouts of glee
and triumph, hacking, hewing, mutilating the poor remains, reckless of
the bullets that came buzzing along the turf from the score of
Springfields turned loose at the instant among the loopholes of the
stockade. It was eight hundred yards away in the dazzling light of the
rising sun. Old Springfields did not carry as do the modern arms.
Soldiers of those days were not taught accurate shooting as they are
now. It was too far for anything but chance, and all within a minute or
two the direful tragedy was over, and the red warriors had darted back
behind the ridge from which they came.
"My God! sir," gasped the officer who stood at the side of the
awe-stricken post commander, "I believe it's Red Cloud's entire band,
and they've got our poor boys surrounded! Can't we send help?"
"Send help! Merciful heaven, man, who's to help us? Who's to protect
these poor women and children if we go? I have but two companies left.
It's what those fiends are hoping--have been planning--that I'll send
out my last man to the aid of those already gone, and then they'll dart
in on the fort, and what will become of these?"
Great drops of sweat were pouring down the colonel's face as he turned
and pointed to the huts where now, clinging to one another in terror,
many poor wives and children were gathered, and the air was filled with
the sobbing of the little ones. Up from the stockade came two young
officers, their faces set and rigid, their eyes blazing. "In God's name,
colonel," cried the foremost, "let me take my men and clear that ridge
so that our people can get back. One charge will do it, sir."
But solemnly the commander uplifted his hand. "Listen," said he, "the
battle is receding. They are driving our poor fellows southward, away
from us. They are massed between them and us. It would only be playing
into their hands, my boy. It's too late to help. Our duty now is here."
"But good God, sir! I can't stay without raising a hand to help. I
beg--I implore!"
"Go back to your post at once, sir. You may be needed any minute. Look
there! Now!"
And as he spoke the colonel pointed to the southeast. Over the scene
beyond the divide to the south hung the bank of pale-blue smoke. Out on
the slope lay the ghastly remains of the young adjutant and his faithful
comrade who, not ten minutes before, had galloped forth in obedience to
their orders and met their soldier fate. Out to the southeast the ridge
fell gradually away into the general level of the rolling prairie, and
there, full a thousand yards distant, there suddenly darted into view
three horsemen, troopers evidently, spurring madly for home.
"They've cut their way through! Thank God!" almost screamed the
spectators at the parapet. But their exultation died an instant later.
Over the ridge, in swift pursuit came a dozen painted, feathered braves,
their ponies racing at lightning speed, their arrows and bullets
whizzing along the line of flight. The horse of the foremost trooper was
staggering, and suddenly went plunging headlong, sending his rider
sprawling far out on the turf. He was up in a second, dire peril nerving
him to desperate effort. His comrades veered at his cry for help and
glanced back over their shoulders. One, unnerved at sight of the dashing
foemen in pursuit, clapped spurs again, and bending low, rode madly on.
The other, gallant fellow! reined about in wide, sweeping circle, and
turned back to meet his running comrade. They saw him bend to lend a
helping hand, saw him bend still lower as three of the Indians leaped
from their ponies and, kneeling, loosed their rifles all at once; saw
him topple out of saddle, and his stricken horse, with flapping rein,
trot aimlessly about a moment before he, too, went floundering in his
tracks; saw the other soldier turn to face his fate by his dying
comrade's side, fighting to the last, overwhelmed and borne down by the
rush of red warriors. Strong men turned aside in agony, unable to look
on and see the rest--the brutal, pitiless clubbing and stabbing, the
fearful hacking of lance and knife--but others still, in the fascination
of horror, gazed helplessly through the smoke drifting upward from the
blazing loopholes, and once a feeble cheer broke forth as one shot took
effect and a yelling Indian stretched out dead upon the sward. Then for
a brief moment all eyes centered on the sole survivor who came sweeping
down the slope, straight for the stockade. Almost it seemed as though he
might yet escape, despite the fact that his horse, too, was lurching and
stumbling and his pursuers were gaining rapidly, defiant of the fire of
the little fort. Reckless of order and discipline, a dozen soldiers
nearest the gate rushed out upon the open bench, shouting encouragement
and sending long range, chance shots. But with every stride the fleeing
steed grew weaker, stumbled painfully and slackened speed, and soon they
saw him slowing down despite the frantic jabbing of the spurs, and with
drooped head and bleeding nostrils giving up the fight. And then, at
sound of the triumphant yells and jeers of his pursuers, the poor wretch
in saddle threw one fearful glance behind him, one despairing look
toward the comrades and the refuge still a quarter of a mile away, and
with shaking hand he turned the brown revolver on his own temple and
pulled trigger, and then went tumbling earthward, a corpse. There at
least was one scalp the Sioux could covet in vain, for with shouts of
vengeance, the little squad of infantry, deaf to all orders or the
clamor of the bugle recall, dashed out over the level bench, firing
furiously as they ran, and, whether from the superstitious awe with
which the Indians view the suicide, or the dread of close combat with
the gallant band of blue-coats, the mounted warriors turned and scurried
away across the prairie, and were presently out of range beyond the
ridge again. Then, and not till they had reached and lifted and borne
the lifeless form of the trooper, did the little party condescend to
answer the repeated summons from the fort. Then at last they slowly
returned, unrebuked, for no man had the heart to chide their daring.
Only once more was there further sight of the one-sided battle. Half a
mile or more beyond the bare divide there rose against the southern sky
a bold, oblong height or butte, studded with bowlders and stunted pine,
and watchers at the fort became aware as the sun climbed higher that the
smoke cloud, thinning gradually but perceptibly, was slowly drifting
thither. The fire, too, grew faint and scattering. The war-whoops rang
and re-echoed among the rocks, but all sound of cheering had long since
died away. At last, an hour after the fury of the fight began, the
colonel, gazing in speechless grief, through his field-glass, muttered
to the officer at his side:
"Some of them are still left. They are fighting for their lives along
that butte."
Only a few, though. One by one the dark dots among the bowlders ceased
to stir and move about. Little by little the fire slackened, and all but
occasional scattered shots died utterly away. Then other forms,
feathered and bedizened, were seen rushing in numbers up the distant
hillside, and that meant all was over, and the brutal knives were busily
at work. Little by little all sound of conflict, all sight of
combatants, disappeared entirely, and the unclouded sunshine streamed
down upon a scene on which the silence of death indeed had fallen. When
at last, late that afternoon, the watchers reported a vast body of
Indians drifting away eastward toward the distant Powder River, and
venturesome scouts stole out to reconnoiter, backed by skirmish lines
from the stricken post, they found the grassy slopes beyond that
curtaining ridge one broad field of death, strewn with the stripped and
hacked and mangled forms of those who had so gallantly dashed forth to
the aid of comrade soldiery at the break of day, so torn and mutilated
and disfigured that only a limited few were ever identified. Officers
and men, one after another, had died in their tracks, victims of Red
Cloud and the Ogallalla Sioux.
And all for what? Late that night the quartermaster in wild agitation
sought his colonel's door, a package in his hands. "For God's sake, sir,
look at this!" he cried.
The cords had just been cut, the seals just broken, the stout paper
carefully opened and the contents of the precious packet exposed to
view. It held no money at all, nothing but layer on layer of waste and
worthless paper!