OFF FOR HOME.
“Hurry up there, sir. The colonel is anxious to get all his men in. We
are going to have a blizzard.”
It was Colonel Forsyth’s bugler who hailed them. He was going over the
field in a gallop, blowing his trumpet as he went, in hope of getting
his men all in camp before the storm struck them. The lieutenant
stopped in surprise and looked all around him. Sure enough, there was
a blizzard coming. The air was filled with fine snow which he had not
noticed before; and, now that he began to get over his excitement,
he found that his summer blouse afforded him but a poor protection
against the wind that was blowing. They put their horses into a lope
in obedience to the order; but, fast as they went, Lieutenant Parker
took notice of the havoc that was done by the Hotchkiss guns during
the twenty minutes that the fight continued. He saw that there were
about as many women dead as there were men, and that some of them held
repeating rifles in their hands.
“That beats me,” said he, in profound astonishment. “The squaws meant
to fight, too.”
“You will always find that the case when troops attack a home camp,”
said Carl. “Some of these women are wounded. They will freeze to death
during this blizzard.”
“That fight was a massacre and nothing else,” said Parker in disgust.
“Why could not the women have kept out of the way?”
“Well, I suppose every man on our side was thinking ‘Remember Custer’
while that fight took place, sir,” said Murphy, in a tone which showed
that he did not care anything for the Indians, so long as they were
dead. “I know I did, and I don’t believe that any Sioux that I pulled
on got away.”
The wind continued to increase in fury—so much so that the notes
of the bugle from the trumpeter who had warned them, and which he
continued to blow at intervals, came but faintly to their ears.
Lieutenant Parker was getting cold, but he did not say a word about
it. His overcoat was left on the ground where the cavalry began its
charge, and if the colonel did not have anything further for him to
do he would be glad to put that overcoat on. When they arrived within
sight of Colonel Forsyth’s headquarters they found that the men who
had been recalled by the sound of the bugle were busy tearing down the
tents and carrying them into the ravine out of reach of the blizzard,
and the rest were working like beavers to take their dead and wounded
comrades to the same place of refuge. The officers were working with
the men, and if they said anything at all, it was to urge those who
were laboring with them to hurry a little faster.
“You are just the man I wanted to see, Parker,” said his colonel, as
he galloped up. “Hitch your horses there in the gully, and then you and
Murphy get a stretcher and bring in every man who lost his life during
that fight. Be in a hurry, now, for we don’t want to leave them out in
this wind.”
“Carl, you go and get our overcoats and bring one for Murphy,” said
Parker, as they rode away to obey this order. “We can’t work fast
enough to keep warm in this wind.”
“The colonel wants us to bring in every man who lost his life during
the fight,” said Carl. “He did not say anything about the Indians, did
he?”
“Nary time, sir,” said Murphy, indignantly. “The Indians brought it all
on themselves, and they can stay there and freeze to death for all the
colonel cares.”
“Another thing,” said the lieutenant—“have you forgotten what that
warrior did back there on the prairie? Some of the wounded may have a
knife or a rifle, you know, and it would not be safe to go near them.”
In a few minutes all our three friends, with their heavy overcoats
and gauntlet gloves on, were working hard to bring the bodies of
their comrades to the ravine where they would be out of the way of
the blizzard, and as fast as the men came in they were dispatched to
help them. The lieutenant was astonished when he saw how the Indians
had used their revolvers at the beginning of the fight. They had their
pistols and knives hidden under their blankets. Every one of them
went in armed, and that was the reason they did so much damage. Some
of the Indians and soldiers were almost touching each other, having
fired their guns when so close together that their garments were
fairly burned with the powder, and of course it was not possible for
one to miss so large a mark at that distance. The soldiers did not
seem to care a cent for the presence of the officers who were on the
spot to superintend their operation. If they took hold of a soldier
to place him on a stretcher and an Indian was in the way, they kicked
him roughly aside, as they would have done with any other rubbish.
The officers noticed it but did not say anything; and as long as they
ranked Parker, he did not feel called upon to say anything, either.
“If I had my way they would treat brave men with a little more respect
than that,” said Parker, as they picked up a soldier who had been
placed upon the stretcher and started for the ravine with him. “If
those men had not been brave they would not have killed so many of our
fellows.”
“Humph!” muttered Murphy. “They were fighting for their homes, you
know, sir. Plague take all their homes. They have got a reservation,
and why don’t they go there and stay upon it? If all the soldiers could
have their way, there would not be one left on the prairie.”
Lieutenant Parker was beginning to feel as Carl, the Trailer, did while
he was explaining the Ghost Dance to him. He felt that the Indians had
been abused, and wished there was some way in which the matter could
be arranged to everybody’s mutual satisfaction. But then it would have
been of no use to argue the case with Murphy. Like all soldiers he had
his own opinion, and he would keep on having it until all the Indians
had been wiped out.
At last, when the blizzard was at its height and the soldiers could
scarcely see which way to go, the bugle called them in; and when they
got into the ravine all the tents were up, and the property they had
left on the field when they began their charge was there under cover.
It was delightful to feel the fire once more. Their overcoats were
frozen stiff, and it was a long time before they got thawed out again.
The storm lasted three days, and a severe one it was, too. A soldier
would scarcely stick his head out of his tent before he was glad to get
back by the fire again. Some of the wounded soldiers died during this
time, and with everyone who breathed his last among his comrades fierce
maledictions went up on all Indians who were left on the plains.
“I have always said ‘Remember Custer’ when I went into an engagement
of this kind,” said an old soldier, wiping the tears from his eyes and
turning to Lieutenant Parker, who had come into the hospital tent just
in time to see a wounded man breathe his last, “but from now on I shall
yell ‘Remember Simpson.’ He met his death like a brave man.”
“Was he shot?” asked Parker, who knew he ought to say something to
show that he sympathized with the soldier.
“No, sir. He shot that brave down, and thought he had him sure enough;
but he had a knife, with which he struck Simpson in the side. My rifle
was loaded, and I will bet you he did not hurt anybody after that. Oh
yes, I shall always remember Simpson.”
On the morning of the fourth day after the blizzard the sun rose bright
and clear, and the work of burying the dead Indians began. All hands
were turned out for that purpose. Some dug a ditch large enough to
hold them all, and the rest were sent out to gather up the men, women
and children, some lying at least two miles away, and bring them to
the grave. The unfeeling soldiers dumped them into the trench like so
many sticks of wood, while Lieutenant Parker and Carl stood by with
their hands clenched and their teeth shut firmly against each other. If
Parker had been in command of that squad they would have handled the
Indians with much more respect.
The lieutenant noticed that more than half the Indians were stripped
when they arrived at the trench; but the officers, although they saw
it, did not make any remark. What the soldiers wanted as much as
anything else was to secure the ghost shirts on which so much depended,
and these they had taken off when they first found the Indians and
stowed away under their overcoats. He gave up all hope of getting one
of these ghost shirts; but that night, when the officers were all in
their tents preparing to smoke, after supper, Carl came to the door and
called him out. He went, and was presented with one of the ghost shirts
that the medicine man had blessed, and which was to render the soldiers
weak and powerless.
“I knew you would not have a chance to get one with those officers all
around you, and so I went off and got this myself,” said Carl. “See
there. That is the place where the bullet went in, and you can see how
much resistance the shirt offered to it. He might as well have gone
into the fight with nothing on at all.”
The next day this work was done and the Indians were buried; but the
work of the cavalry was not yet over. They were ordered away in haste
to help a company of buffalo soldiers (negroes) who were coming into
the agency with a train load of supplies. But this fight did not last
long. The cavalry charged the Indians as soon as they caught sight of
them, and ran them off to the hills. They did not lose a man, but the
Sioux lost four warriors and several ponies. And so it was during the
three weeks they stayed there, and it was not until January that they
received orders to go to the fort.
“I have learned something since I have been here,” said the lieutenant,
when the soldiers were fairly under way to go to their post. “I did not
know why they called this battle ‘Wounded Knee,’ but now I know. There
is an agency a few miles up the creek called Wounded Knee, and it is
situated on a stream of the same name. Everything is Wounded Knee up
this way.”
“Say, Parker, I will tell you what I have been thinking of for the
last few days,” said Carl. “Do you think you behaved yourself in that
fight so that the colonel will give you leave of absence for a week?”
“What are you up to?” asked Parker, who knew that Carl had made up his
mind to go somewhere, and that he wanted the lieutenant to go with him.
“Where are you going?”
“I am going out to my house to see how the fellows there came out
during the war,” said Carl. “They don’t know that the war is ended, and
there may have been some raiders who went up to the ranch from Standing
Rock Agency.”
“I’ll ask the colonel,” said Parker, who was delighted with the thought
of being free from all military duty for the time he had mentioned. “I
have been here eighteen months, and I have never asked for a furlough.
I think he will let me go.”
“Well, when we get back to the fort we will wait a little while until
the excitement dies out, and when I tip you the wink, you go and see
him.”
But Carl did not wait as long as he thought he was going to. On the
next night but one they came within sight of the stockade, and Carl
was thunderstruck and alarmed, too, when one of the officers pointed
out to him a large herd of cattle that were feeding close by the fort.
Something told him whose cattle those were, and it took him but a few
minutes to ride up and look at the brand on their flanks. The herd
belonged to him, but he could not see signs of any herdsmen who had
come there with them.
“Those are some of my cattle,” said he to Parker when he rode up beside
him, “but how in the world did they come down here? That captain the
colonel left here to command the post during his absence is a brick. He
has some of the teamsters and soldiers out there to see that they don’t
stray away. I am going home this very night.”
“Not alone, are you?” said Parker, becoming alarmed in his turn. “You
may find some Indians there who have left your ranch a pile of ruins.”
“I have to go, at any rate. I will speak to the colonel before I leave.
If he has a mind to send a company of men out there with me——”
“Ask for Company D,” said Parker.
“It isn’t likely that he will give me a chance to ask for any company,
but I shall be glad to have one.”
Carl rode off to hunt up the colonel, who had by this time dismounted
in front of his quarters, who listened in surprise when he told him of
the discovery he had made. He did not hesitate a minute, but called
to his adjutant to start off Company D, as soon as they had time to
refresh themselves and horses, to see what had been going on at Carl’s
ranch.
“It is a pity, Carl, that they took this time to raid you,” said the
colonel. “But I will do what I can to get your cattle back and punish
the fellows who had a hand in it.”
“It is all right,” said Carl, who was sitting on his horse at the rear
of the column. “You will get your orders in a few minutes.”
“Bully for the colonel,” said Parker, never once turning his eyes
toward the speaker.
Company D was drawn up in line all ready to be dismissed, but the
adjutant ordered them a few paces to the front and directed them to
move off on the right and come to a front again. The line closed up
and the other companies broke ranks, and then the adjutant repeated
the colonel’s order, after which this company was also dismissed, and
started to take their horses to the stable.
“What’s up, sir?” whispered Murphy.
“Those are my cattle out there, and we are going up to see what has
become of those fellows who had charge of them,” said Carl, who did not
speak as he usually did. “I am afraid the Sioux have bounced them.”
“Whoopee!” said Murphy. “Here goes for another fight with the Indians!”