[Transcribers’ notes are placed after the text.]
[Illustration: CARL DISCOVERS THE INDIAN HORSE THIEVES.]
CARL
THE TRAILER
BY
HARRY CASTLEMON
AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,”
“WAR SERIES,” ETC.
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,
PHILADELPHIA,
CHICAGO, TORONTO.
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. GETTING READY FOR THE HUNT, 1
II. CARL, THE TRAILER, 14
III. THE GHOST DANCE, 27
IV. THE SOLITARY HORSEMAN, 40
V. REINFORCEMENTS, 53
VI. DISPATCHES, 65
VII. GOING IN, 78
VIII. COMING OUT, 91
IX. STILL IN THE SADDLE, 104
X. THE SQUAWMAN’S PROPOSITION, 116
XI. THE INDIAN POLICEMAN, 129
XII. MORE COURIERS, 142
XIII. THE END OF SITTING BULL, 155
XIV. AN INTERVIEW IN THE WOODS, 170
XV. FIVE YEARS BEFORE, 182
XVI. WHAT CLAUDE KNEW, 195
XVII. THE PLAN DISCUSSED, 207
XVIII. “THEY’RE IN THE OFFICE!” 220
XIX. A TALK WITH HIS UNCLE, 233
XX. A NEW PLAN, 245
XXI. THE TRIP TO ST. LOUIS, 258
XXII. A SURPRISE, 270
XXIII. CLAUDE VISITS THE POOL ROOM, 285
XXIV. A HARD FIGHT, 298
XXV. A BLOW FOR NOTHING, 310
XXVI. THE NEW SCOUT, 323
XXVII. OFF TO THE FRONT, 329
XXVIII. GETTING READY FOR THE FIGHT, 342
XXIX. THE BATTLE OF WOUNDED KNEE, 354
XXX. OFF FOR HOME, 367
XXXI. CONCLUSION, 381
List of Illustrations
Illustration Page
Carl discovers the Indian horse thieves. _frontispiece_
Carl captured by the squawman. 118
The Robbers foiled. 234
All their labor for nothing. 308
CARL, THE TRAILER.
CHAPTER I.
GETTING READY FOR THE HUNT.
“So you are nearly out of fresh meat, are you? Do your men get that way
often?”
“Yes, sir. These Pawnee scouts can’t eat like white men. When they have
any fresh meat on hand they eat all they can, and when it is gone they
look to us for more.”
“Well, I suppose I shall have to send an officer out after some. I
think I will try Lieutenant Parker. He has been a pretty good young
officer since he has been out here, and perhaps it will do him some
good to get a little exercise. Orderly, send Parker here.”
This conversation took place between Col. Dodge, the commander of
a small fort situated on the outskirts of the Standing Rock Agency,
and his commissary, who had come in to report the condition of the
garrison in regard to supplies. There was plenty of everything except
fresh meat, and their Pawnee scouts were already grumbling over their
diminished supply. Their commander must send out and get some more.
Game of all kinds was abundant a short distance back in the mountains,
but it was a little dangerous to send a body of troops out there.
Something out of the usual order of things had happened within a few
miles of Fort Scott, and there was every indication that Sitting
Bull, who had settled down at Standing Rock Agency since he came from
Canada, was trying to set his braves against the whites and drive them
from the country. The thing which started this trouble was the Ghost
Dance—something more of which we shall hear further on.
The orderly disappeared, and presently a quick step sounded in the
hall, the door opened, and Lieutenant Parker entered.
It was no wonder that this young officer had proved himself a good
soldier, for he came from West Point, and it was plain that he could
not be otherwise. To begin with, he was handsome above most men of his
rank, with a well-knit figure, and eyes that looked straight into your
own when he was speaking to you. He stood among the first five in his
class, and upon graduation received his appointment to the —th Cavalry
at Fort Scott. Of course he found army life dull, compared with the
life he had led at the Point, but that made no difference to him. If he
lived he would in process of time become a major-general, and that was
what he was working for. He first saluted the colonel, then removed his
cap and waited for him to speak.
“Well, Parker, you find this army life slow, don’t you?” said he.
“Sometimes, sir,” said the lieutenant with a smile. “One does not get
much chance to stir around.”
“You know the reason for it, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir. Sitting Bull is going to make trouble.”
“He has not made any trouble yet, and I propose to send you out in the
presence of all his warriors.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Parker.
Most young officers would have opened their eyes when they heard this,
but it did not seem to affect Lieutenant Parker one way or the other.
He knew his commander had some good reason for it, and with that he was
satisfied.
“Yes,” continued the colonel, “I propose to give you command of a dozen
men, including a sergeant, two corporals, two wagons and a guide, and
send you into the mountains after some fresh meat. We got some only a
little while ago, but the Pawnee scouts have eaten it all up.”
Lieutenant Parker grew interested at once. He was a pretty fair shot
for a boy of his age, and had brought his Winchester from the States,
together with a fine horse that his father had given him; but he put
his rifle upon some pegs in his room, and there it had remained ever
since he had been at the fort. He looked at it once in a while and said
to his room-mate:
“That Winchester can rust itself out before I will have a chance to use
it. I was in hopes I should have a chance to try it on a buffalo before
this time.”
“It seems to me that you have not read the papers very closely,” said
Lieutenant Randolph, “or you would have found out that the buffalo have
all but disappeared. There is only one small herd left, and they are in
Yellowstone Park, where they are protected by law.”
“But there are antelope on the plains,” said Parker.
“Yes, and maybe you will have a chance at them by the time old Sitting
Bull gets over his antics. It won’t do for a small company of men to go
out on the plains now. The Sioux are too active.”
“Well, the colonel knows best,” said Parker with a sigh. “I have asked
him twice to let me go out but he has always refused me, and now I
shall not ask him again.”
But now the colonel seemed to have thought better of it, and was going
to send him out to try his skill on some of the big game that was
always to be found in the foothills. He was delighted to hear it, and
his delight showed itself in his face.
“Do you think you can get some meat for us?” asked the colonel with a
smile. “You appear to think that you are going to have an easy time of
it.”
“No, sir; I suppose we shall have a hard time in getting what we want;
but if you can give me a guide who will show me where the game is, I
believe I will have some for you when I come back.”
“How will Carl, the Trailer, do you?”
“I don’t know, sir. I have often seen him about the fort, but have
never spoken to him.”
“We will put two boys at the head of the expedition, and see how they
will come out with the captain who went out two weeks ago,” said the
colonel, turning to his commissary. “Sit down, Parker. Orderly, tell
Carl, the Trailer, that I want to see him.”
The orderly opened the door and went out, and Lieutenant Parker took
the chair toward which the colonel waved his hand. While they were
waiting for the guide the officer proceeded to give his subordinate
some instructions in regard to the way he was to conduct himself in
case the Sioux molested him. Of course he could not expect, with the
few men that the colonel was going to give him, to stand against the
whole body of the Sioux, but he could run, holding a tight rein in
the meantime, until he came to a clear spot free from gullies and
underbrush, and there he could dismount his command and make the best
fight possible. If he wasn’t back at the fort in a week a company would
be sent out to look for him; but suppose he was found dead and scalped?
Lieutenant Parker thought of this, but his ardor did not abate in the
least. He had come out on the plains to take just such risks as this,
and he supposed that it was the orders every young officer received
when he was about to encounter the Indians for the first time. But he
did not believe that the Sioux were going to get after him. They had
enough to do with the Ghost Dance to prevent them paying attention to
anything else.
“But I hope they will keep clear of you until you come back,” said the
colonel. “The first thing you do, go to work and fill up one of those
wagons with game and send it to the fort with six men, commanded by the
corporal. He knows the way and won’t get lost. After that, you stay
with the other six men until you fill up the other wagon, and then come
home yourself.”
Just then another step was heard in the hall, and the door opened to
admit Carl, the Trailer. Parker told himself that he was glad that Carl
was going with him as guide, for he would have opportunity to talk to
him, and perhaps he might find out where he got that curious name.
Carl was young in years—he did not look to be a day older than
Lieutenant Parker—and the years of toil and hardship he had seen on
the plains, if indeed he had seen any of them, did not mar his face as
they had that of older scouts. He was as straight as an arrow, bore a
frank and honest face, and his blue eyes, as he turned them from one
to another of the occupants of the room, did not express the least
surprise that he had been called upon to go on a dangerous mission. He
supposed that the colonel wished to send him to Standing Rock Agency
with dispatches, and he was ready to take them. It was something that
he had frequently been called upon to do, and he had always returned
in safety. He did not look like a plainsman, for he was dressed in a
suit of moleskin, as fine a pair of boots as money could buy, and a
sombrero, which he removed as he entered the room.
“Here I am, colonel,” said he cheerily, “and all ready to go on to Fort
Yates, if necessary. What do you want of me?”
“Are you acquainted with Lieutenant Parker?” asked the colonel in reply.
“I have seen him, but I don’t know him,” answered the guide.
“Well, here he is. Lieutenant, this is Carl, the Trailer, the name by
which you will probably know him, but his name is Preston.”
The lieutenant got up from his chair and extended his hand to the
guide, but was not very well pleased with the reception he met. Carl
took his hand, gave it a little squeeze and dropped it, and then turned
his face toward the colonel and waited for him to go on and explain
what he wanted done. There were two things about it, Lieutenant Parker
told himself: Carl was not favorably impressed with his appearance;
and, furthermore, he could not have been raised in that country all his
life, for he used as fine language as he did himself.
“Carl, I want you to guide twelve men to the foothills and get some
fresh meat for us,” continued the colonel.
At this the guide turned again and gave the lieutenant a good looking
over. It seemed to be the first time that he had taken a fair view
of him. He surveyed him all over, from his boots to his head, gazed
straight into his eyes for a moment, and then turned his attention to
the colonel again.
“Do you think the lieutenant will do?” asked the officer.
“Oh, yes; provided a grizzly don’t get after him and tear him up,”
replied the guide with indifference.
“But you must not let a grizzly do that. If you start now you can
easily reach Lost River, can’t you? Very well. You may get ready,
and the commissary will find the wagons and mules for you and twelve
hunters. Be sure you pick out the best shots in the command.”
The commissary and the guide went out, and Parker was alone with the
colonel. The officer looked into the lieutenant’s face as he took
his chair again, and could not repress a smile at the expression of
disappointment he saw there.
“Well, Parker, what do you think of Carl, the Trailer?” he asked.
“I think more of him than he does of me, sir,” replied the lieutenant.
“He doesn’t hold me in very high estimation as a hunter.”
“Neither do I,” said the colonel.
Parker did not know what reply to make to this. He looked at the
colonel, and then his gaze wandered down to the floor.
“You must do something to prove yourself a good shot and a man who
can bag game every time he sees it,” continued the officer. “Do your
part of the work faithfully, and I warrant he will come back with a
different opinion of you.”
“But, colonel, that fellow was never born and raised in this country.”
“What makes you say that? On account of his language? He was born in
this country, about forty miles from here. His father was a Harvard
graduate.”
“Oh, that accounts for it, sir. Has this Carl, the Trailer, ever been
to school?”
“Never a day in his life. He despised school and everything connected
with it, and longed for horses, guns and excitement. I guess he has
seen plenty of it. His father died about two years ago, and he left his
ranch in charge of a foreman and has been on duty at this post ever
since.”
“He does not dress at all like a plainsman, sir.”
“Oh, Carl is rich. I don’t suppose he knows how many cattle there are,
running loose on the plains, that bear his brand. But if all reports
are true he is not going to be allowed to keep his money for a great
while. There are some fellows about here who wouldn’t be any too sorry
to see him deliver up his life, for then the property would come into
their possession. But he bears a charmed existence in spite of all they
can do. I guess I have told you everything I could think of, and you
may as well get ready and go on. Remember, I want you to fill up one of
the wagons at once and send it to me in command of a corporal. I shall
look for you to come back in safety at the end of a week, if you don’t
get all the game you want before that time, and I shall expect to hear
a good account of you.”
The colonel arose to his feet, and the lieutenant, taking this as a
hint that he wanted the interview brought to a close, shook hands with
him and hurried out.