COMING OUT.
This was the first race that Lieutenant Parker and Carl, the Trailer,
had ever engaged in, and if there had not been so much at stake they
would have thoroughly enjoyed it. For miles they kept going at the top
of their speed, and then, to Parker’s amazement, his horse fell behind
and required constant spurring to make him keep up. After they had gone
half the distance to the fort, Parker reluctantly drew rein and gave up
the contest.
“That is one thing at which you can beat me,” said he. “I had no idea
that that nag of yours could show so much lightness of foot.”
“It is always so when a fellow brings out Eastern horses to beat
them,” said the guide. “You take a race of five miles, and the Eastern
horse will beat; but you take a race of twenty miles, and it is safe to
back the endurance of the pony.”
“Then I wouldn’t stand much of a show with the Sioux in a fair trial of
speed,” said Parker.
“Not if you had any distance to go. More than one fellow has been
hauled off his Eastern horse and killed within sight of his friends. I
remember hearing some trappers talk about it at the time of the Custer
massacre. One fellow, who had a nice horse, happened to get away from
the hostiles, and took out across the plains at the top of his speed,
followed by six or seven of the savages. The Indians were going to give
up after a while, but all of a sudden they saw the officer pull out a
pistol and put it to his own head. You see, he knew what his fate would
be if captured. That is the only time I ever heard of an Eastern horse
beating a pony.”
Lieutenant Parker was not very well pleased with such talk as this.
It reminded him too much of what might be his own case if he ever got
into a race with the Indians. Lieutenant Kidder and band, who had been
overtaken and annihilated by some of the same Indians among whom he
was going, had tried on American horses to escape the death they saw
threatening them, but after a race of fifteen miles the ponies came up,
and it was all over with them. He did not ask any more questions after
that until his guide pointed out something on the top of a distant
swell. He looked, and there were the walls of the fort in plain sight;
and scarcely had this thought passed through his mind when he heard a
voice directly in front of him saying:
“Halt! Who comes there?”
“An officer without the countersign,” replied Parker.
“Halt, officer. Dismount. Corporal of the guard!—Number 6.”
Lieutenant Parker and his guide dismounted, and in a few minutes the
corporal came up, bringing a lantern to assist him in making out who
the visitors were.
“I have been sent here with dispatches for General Miles,” said the
young officer. “I am Lieutenant Parker, and this man is my guide.”
“Well, I guess you are all right, so you can come on,” said the
corporal. “How did you get through the Sioux lines, sir?”
“We did not have any trouble with the Sioux at all,” said Parker. “I
guess that Kicking Bull is holding a Ghost Dance somewhere, is he not?
We listened, but we heard no yelling.”
“That’s where he is now, sir; but the agent sent to him to give up the
man, and old Bull told him that he was going to send him home. But
what’s the use of that, sir? The Indians will learn all they want to
know in that time, and they can go on with the dance without his help.”
When Lieutenant Parker followed the corporal through the gate, which
stood wide open, he kept his eyes on the watch for some of those wily
Sioux braves who were there to apprise Sitting Bull of their coming,
but he saw none. In fact he had not seen a Sioux Indian since he left
Fort Scott. He began to breathe a good deal easier.
“I believe we can go out as we came in,” said he in a low voice to his
guide. “The Indians are all away learning the Ghost Dance, and there is
not one of them here to carry the news to headquarters.”
“I hope it is so, but I am afraid it isn’t,” said Carl. “Some brave,
somewhere, has seen us come in here, and when we are ready to go out he
will have help enough to stop us.”
Parker sent in his name by the orderly who stood in front of the
general’s door, who in a few moments came out, again, with an
invitation to the lieutenant to step inside. Parker obeyed, and
presently found himself in the company of an elderly gentleman who had
evidently just got up out of a warm bed, for his hair was all rumpled
up, and he had thrown on a dressing-gown which enveloped him from his
head to his heels.
“I believe I have seen you before, Lieutenant Parker,” said the
general, taking the papers which were handed him.
“Yes, sir; that was when you ordered me to report to Colonel Dodge of
the —th Cavalry.”
“Well, you found it a good place, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir. That is, it is well enough now.”
“What do you mean by _now_?”
“I mean, sir, that the colonel has got so that he can trust me, and he
sends me out on little expeditions—like this one, for instance.”
“Oh,” said the general with a smile. “Well, you live up to your full
duty while you are in garrison and I will answer for it that you will
see plenty of service of this kind.”
The general then opened the dispatches, and when he had got a page half
read he noticed that Parker was still standing, with his hat in his
hand, and he told him to sit down, at the same time offering a slight
apology for his neglect. The lieutenant thanked him and took a chair,
running his eye over the articles of furniture with which the general
had thought it necessary to surround himself, and he made up his mind
that the officer was not as fond of hunting as his colonel was. There
were no weapons to be seen, and not a stuffed head of antelope or
buffalo did he see to remind him of the plains.
“Now, lieutenant, I shall want you to have my answer in your colonel’s
hands as soon as possible,” said the general. “Do you want some
refreshments—you or your men?”
“No, sir. We brought in our pockets a bite to eat. I have but one man
with me.”
The general did not say anything more. He did not express surprise that
Parker had come away from the fort with only a guide, for he evidently
thought that was the way to do. He wrote rapidly for fifteen minutes,
and when the dispatch was completed he handed it to the young officer
and said: “There you are, sir. Good luck to you,” and his interview
with the general was completed.
“He is a man after my own heart,” said Parker, when he came up to the
place where the guide was standing, holding the horses. “There is the
officer of the day at the gate. Let us ask him to pass us out.”
This was easily done, and the boys mounted their horses and turned
their faces homeward. It was now broad daylight, and Lieutenant Parker
wondered how they were going to slip by the Indians unperceived. It
depended upon where the Indians were. If they were still interested in
their Ghost Dance, they could cross the river without being seen by
anybody; but if they were done with it and were at home, they would
be discovered and stopped. He thought at first that he would see what
Carl thought about it; but on looking toward him he found that he was
engaged in filling up his pipe, and was going to indulge in a smoke.
“I believe I will not say anything to him about it,” said Parker. “When
he is ready to tell me, well and good; but I don’t care to let him see
how ignorant I am.”
And the guide did not get ready to broach the subject until they had
passed over the fifty miles that lay between them and the river, and
were drawing near to the school-house. It was a barren-looking place,
with no flowers or shade-trees around it, and it was not such a spot as
would have been chosen for a place of learning in a civilized country.
There was no school in session now, for, their parents being deeply
interested in the Ghost Dance, the children could not be expected to
learn anything; and, furthermore, they had to go to the new camp with
their elders. As Parker looked at the house he was certain that he saw
a head thrust carefully around it and then as quickly withdrawn. He
glanced at his guide and was satisfied that he had seen it, too, but
his face never changed color.
“It is all up with us,” he said coolly.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Parker; and although he intended that
his voice should be firm, it trembled a little in spite of himself.
“It means that we are captured; at least I am, but you can go where you
please,” said the guide.
“Good heavens! Let us fight!” exclaimed the lieutenant; and in an
instant he had thrown his Winchester up to his shoulder and held it in
position.
“Put up your gun,” said Carl sternly. “If there is one Indian there,
there are a dozen. Besides, the report of your rifle would bring the
whole camp on us. Every one of those tepees out yonder has two or three
Indians in it, sleeping soundly.”
“How do you know?”
“Why, haven’t you seen the women looking out once in a while? Of course
they know that we are coming, and depend on those fellows behind the
school-house to capture us. Now, when I am gone——”
Carl was about to go on and give his companion some minute instructions
as to the course he must pursue in order to reach the fort, but just
then, as they went rapidly along the road which ran close by the side
of the school-house, half a dozen Indians, painted in all manner of
grotesque shapes, suddenly sprang up from their place of concealment
and made a wild dash for the guide’s horse. One seized his horse by
the bridle, and another took hold of his gun, which was slung over his
shoulder by a broad strap, and with a knife cut it loose from him. No
attention was paid to Parker, who sat on his horse and wondered if the
savages in a fight moved as quickly as these did.
“White soldier, you go on,” said one who seemed to be the leader of the
assaulting party. “We want nothing to do with you.”
Lieutenant Parker turned and looked closely at the speaker. The voice
did not sound as though it came from an Indian, and when he had taken
a second glance at him, Parker saw his white skin through the places
where he had not been touched up by the paint. He was a squawman beyond
doubt, and the lieutenant wondered what Carl had been doing to him to
incur his enmity.
“Yes,” said the guide, “you go on to the fort; I will have to stay
here.”
“Why, how in the world am I to find my way back there unless you go
with me?” inquired Parker, who was amazed at the proposition.
“You can see the sun, can’t you? Well, just keep it to your right and
go ahead. Trust a little to your horse. He has been that way once, and
he can follow his old trail back. Good-by.”
“Good-by,” said the squawman. “You have wasted time enough here
already.”
As if in answer to the threat implied by these words, two of the
Indians raised their guns and pointed them at his head, and Parker,
taking the hint, urged his horse forward and began crossing the river.
When he reached the opposite side he turned to look at Carl, and found
that he and his captors were just disappearing behind the water oaks
which lined the banks of the stream.
“Carl knew what he was talking about when he said that some brave,
somewhere, had seen us go into the fort,” thought the lieutenant, who
was very much depressed by what had occurred. “But it beats me how he
got into trouble with that squawman. Carl never associated with such
fellows as those. They have got him, and now the next thing is to find
out what they are going to do with him. I must see the colonel about it
as soon as possible.”
Parker’s first care was to sling his Winchester over his shoulder, and
his second to put his hands into his pockets. He remembered how he had
drawn that rifle to his face and pointed it at an imaginary Indian who
would attempt to rush upon him, and here he had gone and surrendered to
half a dozen savages who took his guide away from him. He was fairly
disgusted with himself when he thought of it. Why did he not make a
fight, as he had wanted to do?
“Perhaps it is just as well for me that I didn’t,” said Parker to
himself. “There must have been five hundred Indians in that camp, if
they were all in their tepees, and of course I couldn’t hold my own
with them. If I ever reach the fort, which is extremely doubtful,
Randolph will make no end of fun of me.”
By casting his eyes a little in advance of him Parker could see that
his horse was following the old trail that he had made some hours
before. He could easily tell it, for there were two trails, the grass
all pressed down and leaning in the opposite direction, and it had been
made while the dew was on. He came along there in the night, but how
would it be when they reached the trail over which they had passed in
the daytime? He could only wait and see.