LOYAL FRIENDS.
It was on Friday morning, at daybreak, that the desertion of Trumpeter
Waller was reported to Lieutenant Blunt. It was Friday night that the
telegrams were sent to Laramie and that Charlton's letter left by stage.
It was Saturday afternoon just before parade that the mail was
distributed at Fort Sanders; and that very evening, before Major Edwards
had received and had time to read his letter from the West, the
sergeant had started on his long and fatiguing journey. All night long
in sleepless misery he sat in a corner of the caboose, occasionally
rising and tramping unsteadily to and fro. At Cheyenne a delay of half
an hour occurred, and he left the train and paced restlessly up and down
the platform under the freight sheds. He dared not go down to the
lighted offices and the crowded passenger station just below him. It
seemed as though everyone knew of Fred's story by this time. He could
see the gleam of forage-cap ornaments and the glint of army buttons
among the people at the depot, and knew there were several officers and
soldiers there. Never before had he known what it was to shrink from
facing any man on earth; but to-night, though he almost starved for
further news from his boy, he could not bring himself to meet them and
ask.
Along toward morning, at Pine Bluffs, a herdsman got aboard, and what he
had to say was of startling interest. Hitherto the Indian war parties
had kept well to the north of the Platte, "but" said he, "ever since
Friday the Sidney road has been swarming with them--both sides of the
river--and they are killing everything white they can lay their hands
on."
"My God!" thought Waller, "and Fred must be in the very midst of them.
Better so," he added, "if indeed he can be guilty." The herder had
evidently been sorely frightened by all he heard, and he was hurrying to
Sidney to join a party of cattle-men who were camping there. He had been
drinking too, and took more and more as the night wore on, and became
maudlin in his talk. It was nine o'clock on Sunday morning when they
reached Sidney station, and the first thing that old Waller saw was a
strong concord wagon with a four-mule team and an army driver. Two
infantry soldiers with their rifles and girt with cartridge-belts were
standing close at hand. Two officers were stowing their rifles inside
the wagon, and an orderly was strapping the tarpaulin over the light
luggage in the "boot." One of the officers the sergeant knew
instantly--an aid-de-camp of the commanding general. The other was older
in years and bore on his cap the insignia of the staff. The younger
officer saw him before he could step into the office, and Sergeant
Waller knew it--knew too, with the quickness of thought, that he had
heard of Fred's disappearance and presumable crime. He could have shrunk
from meeting his superiors in the shadow of this bitter sorrow and
disgrace. Even while he could not accept the belief that his boy was
actually a deserter and a thief, he knew full well what other men must
think. But Captain Cross was a cavalryman himself, and had known old
Waller for years. He dropped his rifle, came straight forward, and took
him by the hand.
"Sergeant, I don't believe it of your boy; I've known his father too
long," was all he said, as he pressed the veteran's hand. Poor old
Waller, worn with anguish, long vigil, and utter lack of food of any
kind, was now so weak that he could only, with the utmost difficulty,
choke back the sobs that shook his frame. Speak he dare not; he would
have broken down. Cross led him to the lunch room at the station and
made him swallow a cup of coffee, then gently questioned him as to what
he knew.
"We go at once to Red Cloud--Colonel Gaines and I--and maybe on the
road I shall hear something of him. Sergeant, rest assured your son
shall have fair play," said the aid-de-camp, as he was about to turn
away.
"But, captain--I beg pardon, sir," broke in Waller hurriedly, in almost
the first words he had spoken. "Where is your escort? Surely you won't
take this route without one?"
"There isn't a trooper at Sidney, sergeant. We have a couple of
infantrymen in the wagon and another on a mule. That's the best we can
do, and we've got no time to spare. We must be at Red Cloud to-morrow,
and this is the shortest line."
"But, sir, haven't you heard? The Sioux are out in force and all along
the road, both above and below the Platte. There's a herder on the train
who told us. He got aboard at Pine Bluffs this morning."
"I can hardly believe that," answered Cross. "Captain Forrest with the
Grays is scouting south of Red Cloud. Captain Wallace was ordered to
watch the fords along the Platte on this line; Captain Charlton is
out--or at least the whole troop has been, and there are three more.
Surely Major Edwards would know over at the barracks, if the Indians
were anywhere between us and the river,--we'll get an escort from
Captain Wallace the other side,--but he has not heard a word."
"But I beg the captain to hear what the man says, sir," urged Sergeant
Waller. "He's been drinking, but he tells the same story, practically,
that he told us when he got aboard. Let me find him, sir."
And find him he did, even more maudlin and thick-tongued by this time,
and evidently determined to make the most of his dramatic story for the
benefit of the two officers and swarm of interested lookers-on. He only
succeeded in inspiring the colonel with mingled incredulity and disgust.
"I don't believe a word of it," he said to Captain Cross. "And we are
losing valuable time. We must start at once."
An hour later this peaceful Sabbath morning, the sergeant stood, cap in
hand, before Major Edwards on the veranda of his pleasant quarters. Two
pretty children were playing with a big, shaggy, lazy staghound, pulling
his ears and tormenting him in various ways; a pleasant-faced lady came
forth, sunshade and prayer book in hand, and at sight of her the little
ones reluctantly rose and bade good-by to their four-footed friend, and
the party started slowly away across the green parade to the post
chapel, nodding and smiling to the spruce orderly, who stood
respectfully aside to let them pass. Mrs. Edwards glanced quickly and
sympathetically into the sergeant's sad face as he stood there before
her husband's easy-chair. She knew well what it all meant, but there was
nothing for her to say. Small parties of infantry officers and of ladies
and children joined them on the way to the humble wooden sanctuary; the
soft notes of the bugle were sounding church call; a warm gentle breeze
from the southern plains stirred the folds of the big flag; the sunshine
was joyous and brilliant, and all spoke of peace, order, and
contentment. Yet there stood Waller with almost bursting heart; and
yonder, only a few miles across the grassy ridge to the north, rode that
little party of officers and men to almost certain death.
The major looked up as he finished reading the letter placed in his
hands.
"I have no words to tell you of my sympathy and sorrow, sergeant. Of
course you know my plain duty in the matter. The sheriff has been
notified, and two of his deputies already have gone out to search. He
would hardly be mad enough to come anywhere near us, if guilty. But if
he is taken he will be held here under my charge, and I will see that
you have every proper opportunity of visiting him. The adjutant tells me
you had heard something of the Indians being south of the Platte. What
was it?"
"A man who boarded our train at the Bluffs, sir. He claimed to have had
to ride hard for his life yesterday afternoon, and that there were
scores of the Sioux this side of the river. I took him to Colonel Gaines
and Captain Cross, sir; but the man had been drinking so much that they
distrusted him entirely. They left the station before I started for the
barracks, sir."
The major sat thoughtfully gazing out across the parade a moment; then
answered:
"We have had no rumors of anything of the kind, and they would be almost
sure to come this way to us, if anyone heard of such stories. There are
no settlers along the road, after leaving the springs, out here until
you reach the Platte. I can hardly believe it, but we'll see what can
be got from the man when he sobers up. Now the sergeant-major will go
with you to the quarters, and I will see you later in the day."
But later in the day that promise was forgotten in an excitement of far
greater magnitude.