DISPATCHES.
“By the way, Parker, I think the colonel has some other business for
you to transact when you get back to the fort,” said the captain, when
they had ridden a little while in silence. “Of course the colonel has
not said so, but I rather gained the idea from something I heard the
adjutant say to him.”
“I am ready to assume anything he thinks I can do, sir,” said the
lieutenant, who wondered what this new business was going to be. “I
will even go to Standing Rock Agency.”
“And I suppose that is right where he wants to send you with dispatches
for General Miles,” said the captain. “You will have one guide with
you, and as large an escort as the colonel may think you need.”
“I am ready to undertake it,” said Parker, “but I don’t intend to be
captured.”
“That’s the way to talk,” said the captain. “But the colonel does not
expect that the Sioux will attempt to capture you and hold you as a
prisoner. You will have to go right by the place where they are holding
their Ghost Dance, and if the Indians discover you, they will lose no
time in keeping you until their dance is over.”
“I don’t see what good that will do, sir. Don’t they want us to know
anything about it?”
“Well, I guess they don’t. The Sioux have a theory that if anyone
outside their tribe witnesses the ceremony, that will make the dance of
no account, and it will all have to be done over again.”
Lieutenant Parker seemed to have grown two inches when he heard this.
He was going to get a chance to make a hero of himself—that is, if
the colonel thought fit to send him with the dispatches. He thought
of what old California Joe would have done in a case like this. After
Custer’s fight with Black Kettle, in which a great victory was gained
and the power of the Cheyennes completely broken, Joe was selected as
a courier to carry the report to General Sheridan, whose headquarters
were at Camp Supply. The journey was only about a hundred miles long,
but it was through a country that was thickly covered with hostile
Indians. General Custer offered him an escort of fifty men, but to
his surprise Joe said he did not want anybody except Jack Corbin,
his partner. Custer told him to go ahead, and these two men made the
journey—two hundred miles—in just forty-eight hours, although they had
several wide detours to make in order to keep clear of the savages.
Lieutenant Parker did not know whether or not he was experienced enough
to try such a plan as that, but he determined that he would attempt it.
Everything depended on getting by the Sioux without being seen. If the
Indians discovered him he would certainly be captured, and what would
be done with him after that he did not know. He would not say anything
to the captain about it, but if the colonel asked him how large an
escort he wanted, he would take Carl, the Trailer, and set off.
The captain was a talkative fellow, and during the twenty years of his
life that he had passed on the plains and among the wild Indians he had
gained a world of information, and accumulated an almost inexhaustible
fund of stories which he was ready to tell for the benefit of younger
officers. He related one after another of his anecdotes during the
march to the fort; and when at last the whitewashed stockade came
into full view and Lieutenant Parker rode through the wide gate, he
saw that the teamsters and soldiers stopped and raised their hats to
him, a thing they had never done before. Parker was popular among the
soldiers; for, although he was very strict,—as much so as the colonel
himself,—and tried as hard to make his men “toe the mark,” when off
duty he was “hail-fellow well met” with everybody. The captain and
Parker came out from behind the wagon to see their men come into line
in front of the colonel’s headquarters, and then dismounted and went in
to report.
“I have returned, sir,” said the captain. “I found the lieutenant
coming along the prairie all right. He had some experience with the
Sioux, but he came on ahead as though there was nothing there.”
“Very good, sir,” said the colonel. “You may dismiss your men.” Then,
unbending a little from his official dignity, he held out his hand to
Parker and smiled upon him over his gold spectacles. “Well, my boy, I
am glad to see that you have returned all right.”
“I have returned, sir,” said Parker, not forgetting that part of his
duty, “and I have a wagonful of game.”
“Well, now, go on and tell me something about those Sioux you met. Were
they a large party?”
“I did not see all of them, sir; not more than a dozen. The chief made
signs that he wanted to talk to me, but I sent him back. I thought if
he wanted to talk to anybody he could come down here and talk to you.
He knew where your headquarters were as well as I did.”
“There were a good many more than a dozen men in that party,” said the
colonel. “That was the reason I sent the captain out after you. Have
you had sleep enough?”
“Yes, sir, all I want,” said Parker, who now thought he was about to
hear of the additional business the colonel had for him to do.
“Can you go without sleep to-night?”
“Yes, sir, and for forty-eight hours longer.”
“I guess somebody has been saying a little to you about what I have on
hand,” said the colonel with a smile. “Well, I don’t know as I blame
the captain for that. How large an escort of soldiers do you think you
will want to go with you to Standing Rock Agency?”
“I want just one, sir.”
“One!” exclaimed the colonel, opening his eyes. “Remember that you will
have to cross their lines somewhere.”
“I know it, sir; but it will be easier for two men to hide than it will
for a larger number. If I were going to ask for a larger squad than I
have named, I should ask for your whole force.”
The commanding officer settled back in his chair and stared at the
lieutenant without speaking.
“I would like to have one man go with me, sir, if I might be allowed a
choice,” said the lieutenant.
“Who is it?”
“Carl, the Trailer.”
“You seem to have got on pretty good terms with him during the last
week,” said the colonel, straightening up again. “Well, come around
in about half an hour and I will talk to you. I want to add something
to these dispatches about the war-party of Sioux you met while coming
home. Bring Preston with you. You may dismiss your men, and detail two
of them to cut up game enough for supper. Perhaps you had better get
something to eat before you go.”
Lieutenant Parker arose to his feet, made his best salute, and went
out. He seemed to be treading on air. The colonel thought enough of
him to send him where he had always sent a brave and experienced man,
and here he was scarcely six months out of West Point. The captain
was standing just outside the door, with his hands on his hips,
watching his men, who were going toward the stables, and hearing the
lieutenant’s footsteps behind him turned and looked over his shoulder.
“I tell you it pays to keep your weather-eye open, sir,” said Parker,
as he came up and saluted.
“Have you got it?” demanded the captain, who seemed as delighted as the
lieutenant himself.
“I don’t know, sir, but I have orders to come around in half an hour
and bring Carl, the Trailer, with me.”
“Then you are going—you can bet on that. Did you hear who else he is
going to send with you? I wonder if he will select me?”
“That is all I want, sir.”
“All! Carl, the Trailer!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good heavens, young man, you’re crazy! You will never get through
their lines in the world.”
“Don’t you think it would be easier for two men to hide than it would
be for fifty, sir?”
“Are you going to hide from them? Did you tell that to the colonel?”
“I did, sir.”
“Then you won’t go; you can bet your bottom dollar on that. You don’t
want to hide from them,” continued the captain, seeing that the
lieutenant looked disappointed over what had been said. “You want to
go by them openly and above-board, so as to let them know that we are
not afraid of them. If they see that we know they are going on with the
dance, I think they will stop it. Be careful in the future, when the
colonel is talking of sending you on an expedition, that you don’t say
anything about _hiding_. That’s a word that won’t go down.”
“But look here, captain,” said Parker, a bright idea striking him, “the
colonel suggested that I get something to eat before I go.”
“W-h-e-w!” whistled the captain. “This beats me. Here you are ordered
to take dispatches through a band of savages who have never yet done
the first thing to indicate that they were on the warpath excepting to
point their guns at those two men that Galbraith sent out to stop them
in their Ghost Dance, and the colonel does not object to your hiding
from them! I can’t understand it.”
“Perhaps he does not want it to get out among them that he has been
sending dispatches to General Miles,” suggested Parker.
“Oh, he needn’t think to stop it that way. Mark my words,” said the
captain, approaching close to Parker and laying his forefinger upon his
shoulder, “the Sioux will know of that dispatch as soon as Miles will.
You needn’t think to keep it from them.”
So saying the captain walked away, leaving Parker lost in wonder.
He glanced about the parade ground, but he couldn’t see anything of
a Sioux brave there; and then, seeing his men drawn up in line and
waiting for him to dismiss them, he beckoned Leeds to approach him.
“Break ranks,” said he, “and set two of the men at work cutting up some
of that game for supper. Remember that the captain wants some of that
elk.”
Having thus disposed of his men, Lieutenant Parker walked slowly
toward the place where Carl, the Trailer, was standing, waiting to see
what was going to happen.
“Say, Carl,” he said, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, “do you
see any Sioux Indians around here?”
“Nary one,” said the guide.
“I have been ordered to take some dispatches to General Miles, and you
are to go with me to show me the way. You and I are to go alone.”
“I am ready,” said Carl.
“I have been talking with the captain about it, and he says that the
Sioux will know of that dispatch as soon as Miles will. Now, it strikes
me that there must be somebody here to carry the news.”
“I don’t know whether he meant that or not—I can’t say; but I have no
fear of not getting into the fort with dispatches. When we come out and
try to get home is where they are going to catch us.”
“Do you think that is the place they will watch for us?”
“It is always the place where I begin to use caution,” said the guide.
“You are not afraid to attempt it?”
Carl, the Trailer, raised himself up to his full height and looked at
the lieutenant. He did not speak, and Parker did not press him for an
answer.
“I don’t know but I should be afraid if I were in your place,”
continued the lieutenant. “There are some people here who would not be
anyways sorry to hear of your death.”
“Let them come,” said Carl; and Parker had never seen such an
expression of rage and contempt as overspread his features. “I am ready
for them.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Of course I do.”
Lieutenant Parker waited to hear more. He wanted to find out whether or
not those people who would in any way profit by the death of the guide
were relatives; but Carl had no more to say. He stood with one arm
thrown over his saddle, and waited for Parker to send him away about
his business.
“Well, then, I suppose you are all right,” said the lieutenant. “Go
and get something to eat, and be on hand in half an hour. It is now
four o’clock,” he added, glancing at his watch. “We must see General
Miles, get his return dispatch, and be back here in forty-eight hours.
Do you suppose we can do it?”
“If you can keep up I’ll be on time,” said the guide, leading his horse
toward the gate.
“I really wish I had not said anything about that,” said Parker, as he
led his own horse away toward the stables. “I’ve got him down on me,
and that is one thing I don’t like.”