TRAILING THE TRAITOR.
Fred Waller knew all the Valley of the North Platte as well as he did
the trails around Sanders and Red buttes, and if he could succeed in
eluding the Indian war parties, he would have no difficulty in fording
the river, or swimming if necessary; and, with the start he must have
had, his light weight, and powerful horse, it would be next to
impossible to catch him, even if they could follow his trail. Besides,
were they not ordered to remain at the Niobrara until Charlton's return?
The more Mr. Blunt thought of the matter the more worried and perplexed
he became. Anywhere else he might have sent a sergeant with a couple of
men in pursuit, but here it would be exposing them to almost certain
death. It was some minutes before Sergeant Dawson came in answer to the
summons. Blunt could see the troopers gathered about the first sergeant,
excitedly discussing the affair and bemoaning their individual losses.
Graham was noting the amounts on a slip of paper, and his fine face was
pale with distress. "Is that all now, men?" he asked as he completed
the list, then sharply turned away, and once more approached his young
commander.
"Lieutenant," he said, halting and raising his hand in salute, "it isn't
quite so bad as I feared, but bad enough. Sergeant Farron, Corporal
Watts, and I are the principal losers, besides Sergeant Dawson. Three of
the men who went into the Agency on pass just after we were paid had
left most of their money with me, and that is gone. I had it with my own
in the flat wallet I always carried in the inside pocket of my
hunting-shirt. You can see, sir, how it was done," and the sergeant
displayed a long clean cut through the Indian tanned buckskin. "It took
a sharp knife and a light hand to do that, for I'm not a heavy sleeper.
Farron, Watts, and I were sleeping side by side just over there on the
bank, and they heard nothing all the night. But will the lieutenant look
at this handkerchief, sir? Is it chloroformed? I feel dull and heavy, as
though I had been drugged. He couldn't have got it from me any other
way."
Blunt took the bandanna and sniffed it cautiously, and then turned it
over and curiously inspected it. There was certainly an odor of
chloroform about it--a strong odor.
"Whose is this?" he asked. "I do not remember seeing any of the men
wearing one like this."
"None of them own it, sir. I've asked the whole party but Sergeant
Dawson and the men on guard. They have these cheap red things for sale
at the store there at the Red Cloud Agency, but none of the troop have I
ever seen wearing them; they are too small for neck handkerchiefs.
Dawson is out yet, trying to locate the trail. I've sent Robbins for
him," and the sergeant looked anxiously away southward, searching the
prairie with a world of pain and trouble in his eyes.
"What could possibly have induced the boy to turn scoundrel all at
once?" asked the lieutenant. "It will break his old father's heart."
"I can't account for it, sir. He has been as honest and square as a boy
could be ever since his enlistment; but the men tell me that he has been
spending a good deal of time over in the post whenever we camped there,
and I am afraid, from what Donovan says, that he has been gambling with
the young fellows at the band quarters. There's a hard lot in there, I'm
told; and the old hands encourage the boys to get all they can out of
strangers, and then they turn to and fleece the boys. It is about four
hundred dollars he has taken. A man knows that will last but a little
while on the frontier, but to a boy it seems a big pile."
Then, rapidly approaching, the bounding hoofs of a troop horse were
heard. Blunt eagerly turned and saw Sergeant Dawson galloping toward
them down the north bank. Reining in so suddenly as almost to throw his
panting bay upon his haunches, he vaulted lightly to the ground and
stood before the lieutenant, his face beaded with sweat and his eyes
glaring.
"Which way has he gone? could you tell?"
"Yes, sir, I trailed him out across the prairie yonder for three hundred
yards or so. Then he took the Laramie road, and there the hoof tracks
are all confused; but I knew he would never keep that line very long,
and I'm almost certain I found the place where he turned off--a mile
beyond the ford and well over the bluffs."
"Turned south toward the Sidney route?"
"Yes, sir, as though he was going to skirt the road a while, then make
for Scott's Bluffs, keeping well west of the Sidney stage route. If he
got on that he'd be likely to meet Captain Forrest's troop, sir."
"But you were in charge of the guard, sergeant. How came it that your
sentries and you could let a man slip out with his horse and everything?
The night was still, and they ought to have heard, even if they couldn't
see."
"It was dark as pitch, lieutenant; the new moon was down before eleven
o'clock; and as for hearing, the horses were uneasy and stamping or
snorting all the while from midnight until two o'clock. Either they
sniffed Indians, or the coyotes startled them. Then, the stream makes
such a noise over the rocks, sir; and the lieutenant will remember we
had no sentries out across the stream. The Indians couldn't stampede the
herd from that direction."
"But how could he get his horse out from the herd without----"
"It wasn't there, sir," broke in the trooper, eager to defend himself
against the imputation of carelessness or neglect. "Sergeant Graham will
bear me out, sir, that Trumpeter Waller has been allowed to lariat his
horse close by where he slept, and sometimes he'd loop the lariat by a
light cord to his wrist. The captain allowed it, sir, and I supposed
that the lieutenant would not care to change the captain's orders. Last
night he slept, or rather made down his blanket and drove his picket-pin
at the lower edge of the bivouac, sir, down there by that point; and
Private Donovan tells me he moved still further down after dark. We
could hear his horse whinnying a while--he didn't like being so far from
the others. It's my belief, sir, he waited until all was quiet, and took
some time when I was out on the prairie visiting the sentries to slip up
the bank to where Sergeant Graham was sleeping, make his haul of the
money, and then ride for all that he was worth as soon as he had got
beyond ear-shot. It was easy enough to slip away through the stream
without being heard."
"He has left his saddle-bags, blanket, and everything that was heavy,
except his arms, behind him," said Graham moodily.
"And you really think that he has stolen the money and is trying to
escape?" questioned the lieutenant.
"Indeed, sir," answered Dawson almost tearfully, "I don't know what to
think. I hate to believe it of the boy we were all so fond of, though I
used to plague him sometimes, just in fun--but I don't know what else to
think. The men say that he has been a little wild at times, since he got
from under the old man's care. But I don't know, sir; I wouldn't be apt
to know what was going on in the barrack there at Robinson."