COURT-MARTIAL.
First Sergeant Graham had sworn to the disappearance of the money at the
Niobrara and the fact that at daybreak the trumpeter had gone with his
horse, arms, and equipments. He also told of his belief that he and the
men who slept near him that night had been stupefied by chloroform. Two
other troopers told of the loss of their money at the same time; the
hospital steward from Fort Robinson testified to Fred's coming to him
and getting a little vial of chloroform on a forged request from
Sergeant Graham. Corporal Watts had positively identified a ten-dollar
bill, which was in the trumpeter's possession when he was searched (at
his own request) when first accused of the crime, as one stolen from him
at the Niobrara. He had had some experience, he said, and had made a
record of the numbers; and this record, in a little notebook, was
exhibited to the court.
Not once had the defense interposed or asked a question. It was
evidently the policy of Fred's advisers to let the prosecution go as far
as it chose. And now came the announcement of the name that was most
intimately connected with the case, and Sergeant Dawson in his complete
uniform strolled into court, removed the gauntlet from his right hand,
and holding it aloft, looked the judge advocate squarely in the face and
swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Then he sat down and glanced quickly around him, but his eyes did not
seem to see Fred Waller, nor did they rest for an instant on Captain
Charlton, who, tugging at his mustache, looked steadily at the face of
his left guide. Then began the slow, painful, cumbrous method by which
the law of the land requires military courts to extract their evidence,
every question and answer being reduced to writing. Sergeant Dawson
gave, as required, his full rank, troop, regiment, and station, but
hesitated as to the latter point. "I was left behind at Red Cloud when
the troop came away Sunday a week ago, sir, along with Private Donovan,
and we were kept there until I got orders to come here with the hospital
steward. I just got in this morning, and I'm told the troop is back at
the Platte crossing." But the matter of station was of no particular
consequence, and the examination proceeded. Yes, he knew the prisoner,
Trumpeter Fred Waller, Troop B, and had known him several years before
he had enlisted. Told to tell in his own way what he knew of the
circumstances that led to the charges against Waller, the witness
cleared his throat and began.
It was the night they camped at the Niobrara, giving the date, that the
prisoner seemed restless. All the men expected the Indians to make an
attempt to run off the horses, and all were wakeful, but he had most
occasion to notice Waller, who didn't seem able to sleep. That night
passed without alarm of any kind, but the next night it was very dark,
the moon went down at eleven, and the horses got to stamping and
snorting. Witness was sergeant of the guard, and all night long had to
be moving about among his sentries and the herd. About midnight he had
come in to the fire, where Sergeant Graham was sleeping, to clean out
his pipe, that had clogged. His leather wallet, with his money and some
papers, was inside the canvas scouting jacket that the captain allowed
him and others of the men to wear, and he took the jacket off a few
minutes while he walked over to the stream and soused his head and face
in the cold water, a thing he always tried to do when he felt sleepy.
While there he thought he heard a call from the sentry up the stream and
he ran thither, and it was just then that the horses began making such a
fuss. He kept around among the sentries, trying to find out the cause,
and did not go back to the fire until it was all quiet after two
o'clock, and then he slipped into his jacket and overcoat and hurried
back to where Donovan was on post below the bivouac. There was some
noise they could not understand, far out on the prairie in that
direction. He never missed his money and the wallet until daybreak, when
it was discovered that Waller had gone. He never heard him steal away
during the night, and was simply amazed when told of his desertion. The
lieutenant had been disposed to blame him at first for letting the
trumpeter get away with his horse, but no man could have been more
vigilant than he was. "The captain had never blamed him," he was sure
from the captain's manner when he spoke to him about it at Red Cloud.
And Dawson looked confidently now at his commander, but that gentleman
never changed a muscle of his face.
As was customary, the judge advocate inquired if the prisoner had any
questions to ask, and the spectators were amazed when he calmly
answered, "No." Big beads of sweat were trickling down the sergeant's
face by this time, but he could not control the look of wonderment that
flashed for one instant into his eyes at this refusal of a valued
privilege.
"Has the court any questions?" asked the judge advocate, and to the
still greater wonderment of spectators and witness no member of the
court appeared to care to inquire further. When Sergeant Dawson left
the court room and walked away toward the barracks he knew that all eyes
were upon him, and just as soon as he could throw aside his saber,
helmet, and full dress he lost no time in getting to the trader's store
and swallowing half a tumbler of raw whisky. He thought the ordeal over
and that he was free. It was with a sensation of something like
premonition that, as he came forth, he saw at the barracks the orderly
of the court-martial, who had been sent to warn him that he would be
called by the defense at two o'clock.