AT FORT LARNED.
The officer in charge of the fort was a colonel named Mathers, who had
had much experience in Indian fighting, and had taken part in several
campaigns with Buffalo Bill and Hickok.
As Wild Bill entered his quarters, he rose from his chair and grasped
him heartily by the hand.
“Thank Heaven, they didn’t get you, Bill!” the officer exclaimed. “I
saw them through my field glasses chasing after you, and I immediately
ordered out the men, but the outposts had done the work already.
“We shall need you badly before this business is over, for it looks as
if it is going to be one of the most serious Indian wars we have had
for years. You did not find it possible to get through to Fort Hays?”
he concluded.
“I believe I could have got through,” Hickok replied. “I guess I could
have ridden round the Injuns, and maybe got to Fort Hays all right. But
it occurred to me that this fort might get surprised and rushed if ye
didn’t know the Injuns had broken out at last.”
The commandant nodded his approval. If Wild Bill had been a soldier,
he would have expected him to carry the message without exercising his
own individual judgment. But a noted scout like Hickok was expected
to think for himself, weigh the situation, and act for the best
accordingly. That, indeed, was the very reason of his employment.
“Could you tell me who the Indians were--what tribes they belonged to?”
the colonel asked.
“Yes, of course; I took care to find that out,” Wild Bill replied,
almost in an injured tone of voice. “I waited till they got near enough
so as I could find out from their feathers and war paint. They was
mostly Sioux, but there was a few Cheyennes and Crows, and I shot an
’Pache. He was the only one in the bunch, so fur as I could see.”
“Then there has been an alliance made between the tribes, and we
will have to meet the attack of a strong confederacy,” muttered the
commandant.
He rang a bell and an orderly entered the room, saluted him, and stood
at attention.
“Ask Colonel Cody to oblige me by stepping in here for a moment,” the
colonel said.
The soldier left the room, and in a few moments returned, announcing
the famous king of scouts, Buffalo Bill.
He had been making a tour of inspection to see that the horses of the
soldiers were in good shape, and that all necessary preparations had
been made for a long ride and a hard campaign, if the need should arise.
The famous frontiersman was an even more striking and handsome figure
than his friend Hickok. At this time he was in the zenith of his
vigorous manhood.
It was only a short time before that he had earned his sobriquet of
Buffalo Bill by shooting a record number of buffaloes to supply fresh
meat for the workmen engaged in the construction of the Kansas Pacific
Railway.
Every line of his face and every movement of his body showed force,
courage, and determination such as are rarely seen even among the
bravest men.
The border king greeted his friend Hickok warmly, and said:
“So they couldn’t get you, old pard! I wish I’d been with you to help
you put up a little bit of a fight.”
The colonel briefly explained the position, and Cody was not surprised
to hear that several tribes had joined in the rising.
“The Sioux are at the bottom of it,” he said. “Unless we strike hard
and swiftly, the rising will spread not only over Kansas, but over all
the territory round about.
“I received a message from my friend and blood brother, Red Cloud, the
war chief of the Navahos, only two days ago. He sent one of his braves
to tell me that the Sioux had sent their messenger even down into New
Mexico to try to persuade the Navahos to join with them in a grand
uprising against the whites.
“Red Cloud is a good friend to us, and he promised me once that
whenever his tribe had trouble with the government he would send to me,
and get me to help him straighten it out without war.
“He tells me now that some of his young men want to dig up the hatchet.
He is doing his best, with the help of the old men, to keep them back;
but he wants me to come to him.
“I think I’d better go, for if the Navahos join the rest the matter
will become very much more serious even than it is now.”
The colonel nodded his head, but remarked:
“You will be putting your head in the lion’s mouth, Cody. You will
probably arrive there just about the time the bucks are doing their war
dance and putting on their war paint. The peacemaker generally has a
hard time of it, and if you ask them to bury the hatchet they are very
likely to bury it in your own skull.”
“Of course, that is the risk one is always taking in this business,”
replied the border king, laughing lightly, “but I know the Navahos, and
they like me pretty well. I had the good luck once to help them save
their chief, Red Cloud, from some dangerous enemies.”
The colonel rested his head on his hand, and was absorbed in thought
for a few moments. Then he straightened up, and said, with decision:
“Go to the Navahos, and Heaven send that you reach them safely and
persuade them not to dig up the hatchet! But first I must have a
message sent through to Fort Hays. Maybe they are not on their guard at
that post, and even if they are I must let the commandant there know my
plans, so that we can work out a joint plan of campaign.
“I have five hundred brave men in this fort, but there is not one among
them whom I can trust to take this message when thousands of hostile
Indians are riding over the country.
“I know they would all do their best, but there would not be a chance
in a thousand of any one of them getting through.
“I can only trust that message to you two men, for you will know how to
dodge the enemy as no other would.”
The two scouts immediately signified their desire to make the dangerous
trip.
“I think you had better go together,” said the colonel, “for the
carrying of the message is vital for the success of our plans.
“I want the commandant at Fort Hays to march to meet me at Fork River,
about midway between the two forts. He must not only leave enough men
to garrison his fort, but bring along all that can be spared to join my
force.
“It is no use for us to skulk behind walls and let the Indians ravage
the country as they like. We must strike at them swiftly, even if they
do outnumber us by ten to one. That is the only way to nip the rising
in the bud.”
Cody applauded this brave resolution, for his knowledge of Indian
character told him that the colonel was perfectly right.
“We will saddle our horses and ride at once,” he said, rising to leave
the room.
“No, don’t go until after dark,” urged the officer. “You will have a
much better chance of getting through then, and it is better to delay a
few hours than run the risk of not having the message delivered at all.”
The border king agreed, and the colonel then took up a dispatch which
was lying on the table beside him, and asked:
“Do you know anything of a man named Hunky Kennelly? He is known among
the Sioux, I am told, by the name of Bad Eye.”
Wild Bill shook his head, but Cody replied:
“I heard of the man a few months ago, when I was doing some hunting in
Wyoming. He is an Irishman, and a disgrace to his country. He killed a
man in St. Louis, and had to flee from justice.
“I understand he married a Sioux girl in Red Dog, one of the border
settlements in Wyoming, and then joined the Sioux tribe, being made a
member of one of their clans.”
“Yes, that is the man,” said the commandant. “I am told in this
dispatch from Washington that a native spy reports he is the leader in
this movement. He has stirred up the Sioux, and through them the other
tribes.
“He is said to be a man of gigantic stature and terrible ferocity. They
tell me, too, that he possesses extraordinary cunning and military
skill, for he was once an officer in the army. He had to leave because
he stole money belonging to his regiment.”
“I should say that he is a man to be reckoned with,” observed Buffalo
Bill. “I have found that Indians fight better, as a general rule, when
they are led by a white renegade.”
“Durn my cats! but I hope I get a chance for a shot at him!” exclaimed
Wild Bill.
The three men then left the quarters, and made the round of the fort to
see that all was in readiness to repel the attack which they knew might
come at any moment.
Several settlers from the country round about had already come into the
fort with their wives and families, and such of their household goods
as they could move, for the news of the Indian rising had already begun
to spread.
The men among the newcomers were all tough frontiersmen, fine riders,
and good shots; and Buffalo Bill saw that they would form a valuable
addition to the regular troops who garrisoned the fort.
After they had seen that all was in order, the colonel and the two
scouts chatted with the fugitive settlers, and found that they were all
eager for a fight with the Indians at the earliest possible moment.
They were all true-blue Americans, who hated to be on the defensive
when a fight was in prospect.
They discussed the situation, and there was not a man who did not seem
convinced that the Indians would get the worst of it before long.
Several of the settlers denounced the redskins in unmeasured terms,
saying that hanging and shooting were too good for “sech varmints.”
“The durned skunks hev got every reason ter be grateful to us,” said
one old man, “but there ain’t an ounce of gratitude in their natoors.
We give ’em lands and huntin’ grounds, and don’t trouble ’em anyways;
but whenever they see a chance they want to scalp us and lift our
cattle.”
“I don’t think all Indians are vermin,” said Buffalo Bill. “I have
met some pretty good ones. And I don’t think they are all ungrateful,
either, for I’ve known some, at least, who were as grateful as any
white man could be.”