THE NEW SCOUT.
The prairie home of Carl, the Trailer, seemed very inviting to
him after the thrilling scenes through which he had passed on the
Mississippi, and sometimes he was almost tempted to send word to the
commander of the fort that certain circumstances over which he had no
control would keep him at home. There everybody was friendly to him,
his word was law, and it was reasonable to suppose that he could get
along with them better than he could with strangers. But whichever way
he turned he found something to remind him of his father, and he hoped
that, surrounded with new associations and new scenes, he would be led
to forget the past and so begin life anew.
“Now, Thompson,” said Carl, when he found himself in the office,
and the money which had cost him so much trouble was laid out on the
table, “I begin by carrying out the conditions of the will this very
afternoon. You want two thousand dollars; and I may add that, in giving
it to you, I give it with my full and free consent. You have earned it
by your strict attention to duty, and if you ever want any more money
come to me and get it.”
This was almost too much for Thompson to stand. He looked around for a
chair, and when he found it he dropped helplessly into it. No man could
have stood a “cussing” better then he, but when it came to such talk as
this, it took all the pluck out of him.
“Are you still going to the fort?” he managed to ask.
“Yes, I must go there. I promised the colonel, and I always like to
keep my word.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“I shall be gone until I learn to be as good a scout as there is
attached to headquarters. We are going to see war pretty soon——”
“Now, I hope you won’t pay any attention to what those teamsters at
Fort Yates said to you,” said Thompson in disgust. “The Sioux have got
whipped so bad that they will never try it again.”
“But you see, Thompson, there are more of them here than there are
of us. Sitting Bull isn’t going to be quiet for any length of time.
There’s your money. Count it.”
“Well, I guess it is all right, and I won’t count it, if you please,”
said Thompson slowly. “When do you start for the fort?”
“To-morrow morning bright and early. I need not ask you to keep an eye
on things while I am gone. I will be up here every few days, just to
see how things are getting along.”
Thompson had already said all he could to keep Carl at home, and he
knew that it was breath wasted. He went out and sent in the cook to get
his money, and then seated himself on the doorstep and rested his head
on his hands. One by one the men were settled with according to the
terms of his father’s will, and after that Carl put on his hat and went
out to his sire’s grave. How long he stayed there no one knew, but when
he came back his eyes were red and he went into his own room.
The next morning, however, Carl was himself again. He ate a hearty
breakfast, shook the men warmly by the hand, and set off at a gallop.
He was dressed in a suit that was more becoming to him than the one he
wore to St. Louis. He wore a tight-fitting suit of moleskin, with a
Mexican sombrero and heavy gauntlet gloves. At his waist he carried his
revolver, and at his back his Winchester rifle, supported by a broad
band which crossed his breast. In his saddle-bags he carried an extra
suit, another pair of boots, a shirt or two, and ammunition for his
rifle. His horse was a mustang, small and clean-limbed, and although he
did not move as though he had any “go” in him, his rider was willing
to ride him a twenty-mile race with any horse on the plains. Taken
altogether he was a very fancy-looking scout, as some of the soldiers
said when he drew up to report to the colonel; but they found out that
there was something more than fancy about him when he came to fulfill
his duty.
“Well, Carl, I am glad to see you,” said the colonel, as the orderly
took in his name. He had left his horse outside in the hands of a
teamster, and his rifle and saddle bags were on the porch. “I have
business for you right away,” added the colonel; “but first I want to
know how much you are going to charge me.”
“I want nothing, sir, except my board,” said Carl.
“Nothing?” exclaimed the commander. “And will you be ready to go night
and day whenever I shall call upon you?”
Carl replied that he would.
“That is cheap enough. You had better take another horse, for I am
going to send you to Fort Yates.”
“I guess my horse will do for that journey,” said Carl with a smile. “I
am more used to him than I am to any other animal.”
And so it came about that Carl, the Trailer, got a position without
going out of his own country. For two years he stayed there at the
fort, making occasional trips to his ranch to see how things were going
on there, and every time the colonel called for him he was there. He
boarded with the teamsters while he was at the fort, but his favorite
duty, and the one he most delighted in, was guiding the hunting
expeditions to the mountains to get fresh meat for the garrison. Every
time Carl went off in this way he was certain to come back with his
wagons well filled.