HOW BRYANT WAS CAPTURED.
Reveille was sounded the next morning by Corporal Owens, who, having no
drum or bugle at his command, sprang up at daylight and aroused his
slumbering companions by shouting out the order, "Catch up!" More from
the force of habit than anything else, he called the roll while he was
bundling up the blankets on which he and George had slept, and, making
the sergeant's salute to an imaginary officer, he announced: "All
present or accounted for." Then Carey was ordered to boil the coffee,
and Bob and the three troopers who were off duty went out to groom the
horses. Having brought no brushes or currycombs with them, they were
obliged to content themselves with rubbing the animals down with
handfuls of grass; but they "went through the motions," as Bob expressed
it, and that was all the most exacting officer could have expected of
them under the circumstances.
As soon as breakfast had been eaten the troopers and their prisoners set
out on the return march, Bob and the new scout leading the way. Behind
them came the deserters, guarded on each flank and in the rear by two
cavalrymen. Their advance was necessarily slow, for the captives had
travelled rapidly the day before in order to put a safe distance between
themselves and the fort, and they were weary and footsore. Gus Robbins,
especially, was nearly "done up." He was in a worse condition than
Talbot was, for the latter seemed to have slept off the effects of his
wound. George felt the greatest compassion for Gus, and offered to lend
him his horse; but Bob, who had grown somewhat hardened to suffering
during his experience in the army, positively forbade it.
"It wouldn't do, George," said he, looking admiringly at his friend's
sleek, well-conditioned animal, which was constantly champing his bit
and tossing his head as if he were growing impatient at the slow
progress they were making. "Gus would make a break for liberty sure, and
as that nag of yours is able to distance anything in my party, I'd have
to--" Here Bob tapped his carbine significantly. "That's something I
don't want to do. Gus isn't so nearly exhausted as he seems to be. He
is more distressed in mind than he is in body, for he is thinking of the
prison at Fort Leavenworth. After we have gone a few miles we will rest
them by taking them up behind us, but it wouldn't be a very bright trick
to give one of them a horse to himself."
About eleven o'clock a halt was ordered, and the deserters, who were
riding behind the troopers, having dismounted, Corporal Owens took Carey
off on one side and gave him some very emphatic instructions. Then he
and George also dismounted, and, leaving their horses behind, made their
way cautiously toward a ridge a short distance in advance of them. As
they neared the top they threw themselves on their hands and knees and
crept up until they could look over it. They were in plain view of the
squatter's cabin at which the troopers had stopped to eat their dinner
the day before. Bob took just one look at it, and then hastily backed
down the ridge again.
"Did you see that fellow chopping wood in front of the shanty?" said he,
addressing himself to George. "That's the man I am looking for."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I sure that I have a pair of good eyes?" asked Bob in reply. "Of
course I am. I recognized him in spite of his citizen's clothes. That
squatter has rigged him out in some of his own duds, but they'll not
save him if I can manage in some way to get between him and the cabin."
"Perhaps, in order to make 'assurance doubly sure,' you had better take
my field-glass and have another look at him," said George. "A false move
might prove fatal to you, for it would show the squatter that you
suspect him of harboring one of your men, and that would put both him
and the deserter on their guard. But if that is your man, I am sorry for
it."
"Why are you?" demanded Bob, looking at his companion in great surprise.
"I mean that I am sorry you found him here," George hastened to explain,
"for the chances are that you will not take him without a fight.
Peasley--that's the name of the owner of the cabin--is a notorious
rough, and he would think no more of putting a bullet into you, if he
thought he could escape the consequences, than he would of knocking over
an antelope for breakfast."
"I thought he looked like that kind of a chap," said Bob. "Well, if he
wants a fight he can be accommodated at very short notice. That's my
man, and I am going to have him, squatter or no squatter."
As Bob gave utterance to this emphatic declaration he took the
field-glass, which George handed over to him, crept up to the top of the
ridge, and after taking a short survey of the cabin and its surroundings
came back to his friend's side again.
"I knew I couldn't be mistaken," said he. "I had a fair view of his
face, and as I have seen him every day for the last year, of course I
couldn't fail to recognize him. The squatter is sitting on the porch
smoking his pipe. Now, how shall I go to work to nab him? That's the
question."
"Ride straight up to him and tell him that you want him," answered
George. "I know of no easier way. I will go with you and see that
Peasley doesn't double-team on you."
"But Bryant will run into the house the moment he sees me," said Bob.
"Then run right in after him and pull him out again," answered George
promptly.
"I am almost afraid to do it. You see, the civil law is supposed to be
supreme, and we soldiers have to mind what we are about, or else
there'll be a big row raised about 'military despotism' and all that.
I'd have to surround the house and keep him in there until I could send
to the post and get authority from the colonel to go in after him. That
is something I shouldn't like to do, for I have carried this thing
through so far without help from anybody, and I want to complete the
work myself. If I should ask for advice, the colonel would probably send
a shoulder-strap down here to rob me of all the glory I have won," added
Bob with a smile.
"Oh, you needn't laugh over it," exclaimed George. "You have covered
yourself with glory. It isn't every fellow who would go down into a
dug-out to capture six armed men after one of them had given positive
proof that he was not afraid to shoot. That bullet-hole in your coat is
a badge of honor. Now, I have just thought of something: I have brought
with me a full suit of Mexican clothes, and also a saddle and bridle of
the Mexican pattern. You are just about my size--"
"That's the very idea--nothing could be better," exclaimed Bob, as he
arose to his feet and led the way toward the place where he had left his
men. "It will disguise me completely, won't it? I can ride up and get
between him and the house before he suspects anything, can't I? But how
about the squatter?"
"I'll join you as soon as I see that you have corralled your man,"
replied George. "And you had better tell your followers to hold
themselves in readiness to come up promptly when I signal to them from
the top of the ridge."
The troopers awaited the boys' return with no little impatience, for the
long consultation they had held on the ridge convinced them that their
officer had discovered something on the other side of it. Bob gave them
a wink and a nod, which instead of satisfying their curiosity only
increased it, and then, to the surprise of all of them, began to divest
himself of his outer clothing, while George threw off the canvas
covering that protected his pack, and drew out of it an elegant
silver-mounted saddle and bridle, and also a suit of clothes made in the
height of the Mexican fashion.
"If that man of yours is at all sharp he will notice those army-brogans
the first thing, and so you had better pull them off and put on these,"
said George, tossing a pair of light patent-leather shoes toward Bob.
"There are the spurs. You had better take my horse too, for that 'U. S.'
brand on your own nag would give you away in a minute. Now go easy, like
an honest Greaser who is going about his legitimate business. Take my
mule with you, for if you try to separate him from the horse he'll raise
row enough to scare all the deserters out of the State."
It is wonderful what an alteration is sometimes made in one's appearance
by a mere change of clothing. After Bob had got into the Mexican suit
and exchanged his cap for the wide sombrero with its gaudy cord and
tassel, it was doubtful if there was one among his brother-troopers who
would have recognized him if he had chanced to meet him unexpectedly.
Although he was not quite yellow enough for a Mexican, he was
nevertheless pretty well tanned, and George assured him that all he
needed was a black moustache and a long goatee to transform him into a
very good-looking Greaser.
Everything being in readiness, Bob mounted George's horse, took the
pack-mule's halter, which his friend passed up to him, and, after giving
Carey instructions to bring up the squad and the prisoners promptly
when he was signalled to do so, he rode slowly away, the new scout
following a short distance in his rear, mounted on Bob's nag.
Arriving at the top of the ridge, Corporal Owens rode over it without
pausing, and had not proceeded far before he became aware that he was
discovered. The squatter got up and came to the end of the porch, the
deserter ceased his chopping and leaned on his axe, and both shaded
their eyes with their hands and looked at him. It was plain that they
were not very well pleased with the result of their observations, for,
after gazing at him for a few seconds, the squatter returned to his seat
and puffed furiously at his pipe, and the deserter resumed his chopping.
At the same moment the dogs appeared in force from under the cabin,
their every action indicating that they had been summoned by the voice
of their master. They looked up at him, wagging their tails vigorously,
and then, encouraged, no doubt, by a low hiss or an order to "hunt 'em
up," began running about with their heads high in the air. Discovering
the approaching horseman, they started for him on the instant, each one
striving to lead in the race and to growl and bark louder than his
companions.
"They don't think much of Greasers in this part of the country," said
Bob to himself; "and I don't blame them. If I were a stock-raiser I
shouldn't feel very hospitably inclined toward a class of men who are
always on the watch for a chance to jump down on me and steal my cattle.
I wonder if I shall have pluck enough to dismount in the midst of all
these dogs and make the arrest?" added Bob as the fierce brutes closed
about him, all of them with their ears laid back close to their heads
and their hair turned the wrong way, and some crouching at his side as
if they were about to spring up and pull him out of his saddle.--"Get
out! If you interfere with my business there won't be as many of you
to-night as there were this morning. Aha! there's one of you out of the
muss already."
[Illustration: BOB CAPTURES THE DESERTER.]
For just here the mule gave a tug at his halter, and Bob, looking over
his shoulder to see what was the matter, caught a momentary glimpse of a
tawny body as it rose in the air, and, turning a complete somersault,
landed on the ground all in a heap. One of the dogs, in his eagerness to
do something grand, had approached a little too close to the mule's
heels--an impertinence which that sagacious quadruped promptly resented
by kicking out with both hind feet and knocking his would-be assailant
into a cocked hat. The dog was not killed, but he was terribly
demoralized, and his howls of anguish did much to dampen the ardor of
his companions, who quickly withdrew to a more respectful distance.
Bob rode straight up to the house, but the squatter never looked at him,
nor did the deserter stop his work. He drew rein in front of the porch,
swung himself out of the saddle as quick as a flash, and, paying no
attention to the dogs, which bayed him at a distance, but were too
cowardly to assault him, he walked up to the deserter and tapped him on
the shoulder.
"Bryant, I want you," said he.
The deserter, whose back was turned toward Bob, wheeled on the instant,
revealing a face that was as white as a sheet. Bob backed around a
little, so that he could keep one eye on Bryant while he watched the
squatter with the other, and saw the man spring to his feet in the
greatest astonishment, his pipe dropping from his mouth as he arose.
"You didn't expect to see me again so soon, did you?" said Bob,
addressing himself to nobody in particular.
"Corporal Owens!" gasped the deserter, retreating a step or two, at the
same time grasping his axe firmly in both hands and lifting it over his
head. "Keep away from me; if you come a step nearer I'll--"
"Drop it!" commanded Bob sternly; and Bryant obeyed, for he saw the
muzzle of a cocked revolver looking him squarely in the face.
All this happened in less time than we have taken to tell it, but
meanwhile the squatter had not been idle. Quickly recovering from his
amazement, he darted into the cabin, and just as Bryant dropped the
threatening axe he appeared upon the porch with his rifle in his hand.
Cocking it as he drew it to his face, he covered Bob's head with the
weapon, and said, in a voice that trembled with rage and excitement,
"Look a here, young fellow, that's a game two can play at. Lower your
shootin'-iron or I'll make daylight shine through you."
"Plump him over, Peasley!" cried Bryant, "plump him over! You are not
going to stand there and let him take me back to the fort, are you? You
promised to protect me. Plump him over! put the dogs on him! Do
something, and be quick about it."
Bob bore himself with surprising courage during this trying ordeal. He
did not know at what instant the squatter might comply with Bryant's
frantic order to "plump him over" or to "put the dogs on him," but he
never flinched. He did not even change color; and there is every reason
to believe that his bold front saved his life.
"Bryant," said he in a calm voice, "don't you know that the colonel will
be sure to hear of this, and that you are only making a bad matter worse
by holding out against the inevitable?--As for you, Peasley, you've got
the drop on me, and you can shoot if you feel like it; but if you do you
are a gone squatter. Look there," he added, jerking his thumb over his
shoulder.
Peasley looked, and saw George Ackerman coming down the ridge at a
furious gallop.
"That is one of my backers, and there are six more who will be along in
a minute. What did I tell you?" exclaimed Bob as the troopers and their
prisoners came into view over the top of the ridge. "Now, Peasley, if
you don't behave yourself I'll take you to the fort under arrest. I am
in the discharge of my duty, and I am not going to put up with any more
nonsense."
The squatter lowered his rifle, looked first at Bryant and then at the
troopers, and seemed undecided how to act. While he hesitated George
Ackerman dashed up to the porch, jumping out of his saddle before his
horse had fairly stopped, and, knocking the dogs right and left with the
heavy cavalry sabre which he had found fastened to Bob's saddle, he
mounted the steps and laid hold of the squatter's rifle.
"Peasley, what are you about?" he exclaimed as he twisted the weapon out
of the man's unresisting grasp. "Are you a born idiot? If you are not,
don't you know that if you raise a fuss here you won't have any roof
left over your head in less than five minutes?"
The squatter, muttering something under his breath, went back to his
seat and picked up his pipe, and in a few minutes more the troopers and
their prisoners arrived. At a sign from his officer, Loring dismounted
and stood guard over Bryant, while Bob walked up to the porch.
"What do you think of the situation now, friend Peasley?" said he
cheerfully. "I can't take that man to the fort in those clothes, and so
I would thank you to trot out his uniform."
"Don't know nothing 'bout no uniform," growled the squatter; "ain't none
here."
"I know better," answered Bob. "There is one here, and I must have it.
You can either bring it out yourself or I shall search for it; and I
give you fair warning that if I turn my boys loose in your shanty
they'll handle things rough.--Now, what shall I do if that threat
doesn't start him?" said Bob to himself. "I'll search the cabin and take
the consequences; that's what I'll do."
"Come, Peasley, save yourself trouble by bringing out the uniform," said
George. "There's no use in being a fool."
The squatter evidently began to think so too, for he sullenly rose from
his seat and went into the cabin, coming out again in a few minutes with
a bundle of clothing, which he threw spitefully down upon the porch. Bob
quietly picked it up, and, carrying it down to Bryant, commanded him to
pull off the squatter's clothes and put on his own; and Bryant at once
complied, for he knew that if he did not Bob would detail two or three
men to make the exchange for him. The new prisoner was then ordered to
fall in with the rest, and the cavalcade once more took up its line of
march for the fort; but a short stop was made as soon as they were out
of sight of the squatter's cabin, during which Bob pulled off his
disguise and put on his own garments.
"If I am ever obliged to wear this suit, I hope it will serve me as well
as it has served you to-day," said George as he stowed the Mexican
costume away in his pack and placed the silver-mounted saddle and bridle
on top of it. "I didn't think it would so soon be brought into use."
"If it hadn't been for that same suit I might have got myself into
trouble," said Bob. "Knowing where Bryant was, I never should have gone
back to the fort without him, and if he had taken refuge in the house I
might have gone in after him. What the colonel would have said to me if
I had done that, I don't know."
During the ride to the fort Bob Owens, to quote from the troopers,
"laughed all over." It was plain to everybody that he was highly elated
over the results of the expedition, as he had an undoubted right to be.
The pursuit and capture of the deserters had been conducted with
considerable skill, and with as much determination as any veteran
officer could have exhibited. Now that the danger was over, and his
efforts to carry out the orders of his superior had been crowned with
complete success, Bob was rather proud of that bullet-hole in his coat.
The next time the order was given for the troopers to take the prisoners
on their horses, George beckoned to Gus Robbins, who quickly mounted
behind him. After conversing a while upon the various exciting incidents
that had transpired while Gus was Ned Ackerman's guest at George's
ranche, the latter said,
"I never expected to meet you again, and I would rather not have met you
at all than see you in this scrape."
"Well, it can't be helped now," answered Gus, with a weak unsuccessful
attempt to appear defiant. "The colonel told me just what I might expect
if I were ever again court-marshaled for desertion, and I went at it
with my eyes open. I am not sorry I tried it, but I am sorry I didn't
get away. If they don't watch me pretty closely, they will never have a
chance to take me to Leavenworth."
"What do you suppose your father will say when he finds it out?" asked
George.
"He will never find it out if I can help it."
"Don't you correspond with him?"
"Not by a great sight. He doesn't know whether I am dead or alive. I
wish I had changed my name when I enlisted."
"He lives in Foxboro', Ohio, I believe?" said George.
Gus replied that he did.
"Is his name Gus too?"
"No; his name is Thomas, and he is--I say," exclaimed Gus suddenly,
"what are you asking so many questions for? Do you intend to write to
him about me?"
"Why, what object could I possibly have in doing that?" asked George,
turning a very innocent-looking face toward the deserter. "I am sure it
is none of my business what you do. Let's talk about something else. We
are getting over the ground pretty rapidly now, and if Bob would let me
I could land you in the fort in four hours. I don't suppose that you are
in any hurry to get there, but what I meant was, that your additional
weight would not prevent this horse of mine from travelling from here to
the fort at his very best licks."
"No, I don't weigh much now," said Gus with a sigh. "Hard work, hard
fare, hard treatment and constant worry have brought me down to a
hundred and ten pounds."
"That's not very heavy for a seventeen-year-old boy."
"Oh, I am nineteen," said Gus, "but just now I feel as though I were
forty."
"And you look so, too," said George to himself.--"That was the reason I
wanted to know your exact age."
George had now learned all he cared to know about Gus Robbins. He was a
minor, his father's name was Thomas and he lived in Foxboro', Ohio. He
had gone to work in a roundabout way to gain this information, because
he was afraid that if he asked Gus leading questions and told him what
use he intended to make of his answers, the deserter would refuse to
open his head. He had gained his point by strategy, and he did not
intend that Gus should go to Leavenworth if he could help it.
Bob's supply of rations being nearly exhausted, his men and the
deserters had a very scant dinner, and they did not get anything more to
eat until they reached the fort. About ten o'clock that night they were
challenged by one of the sentries, and, not knowing the countersign,
were obliged to wait until the corporal of the guard was called. Having
at last been admitted inside of the stockade, Bob marched up in front of
head-quarters, where he ordered a halt, and he and George dismounted and
went in to report to the colonel. Bob was very much astonished at the
manner in which the officer greeted the new scout, and so was the
orderly. They had never before seen him unbend to anybody as he did to
George. Having never been admitted into head-quarters except when they
had business there--some report to make, some orders to receive or some
sharp reprimand to listen to--they knew the commandant only as a stern,
exacting officer who seemed to care for nothing but the "regulations,"
and they had never imagined that he could be cordial or friendly with
any one. But now they saw their mistake. The colonel got up from his
seat, shook the boy warmly by the hand, told him he was glad to see
him, called him by his Christian name and pointed him to an easy-chair,
while Bob was left to stand at attention until the colonel got ready to
attend to him.
"You are all ready for business I see, George," said the colonel as he
resumed his seat at the table. "Well, I'll give you a taste of army-life
by sending you out on a scout to-morrow. I will tell you about it pretty
soon. There's your room," he added, pointing to an apartment adjoining
his own, "and when you get ready you can bring in your luggage. The
officer of the day will show you where to put your horse. You will have
to be your own servant, unless you are willing to hire a civilian and
pay him out of your own pocket. I saw that you came in with Corporal
Owens: did he arrest you?"
"He was going to, sir," replied George, "but let me off when I showed
him my furlough."
"Corporal," continued the colonel, turning to Bob, who stood lost in
wonder, "what report have you to make?"
"I have the honor, sir, to report my entire success," was Bob's reply;
"I've got them all."
"Where are they now?"
"On the parade, under guard, sir."
"Very good. Keep them there until further orders. Tell the officer of
the day I want to see him."
George thought this was rather hard. Bob had risked his life and
displayed most commendable zeal and ability in carrying out the
colonel's orders, and now the latter dismissed him without one single
word to indicate that he appreciated his services. Why did he not
question the corporal in regard to the manner in which the capture of
the deserters had been effected, and reward him for his gallantry by
making him a sergeant on the spot? That was what George thought _he_
would have done if he had been commandant of the post, and he then and
there resolved that a full history of Bob's exploit should be laid
before the colonel before he went to sleep that night.