IN THE WAKE OF THE GRASSHOPPERS
After the halt, the march was resumed, as the General wished to push on
to the Yellowstone as fast as possible and three or four hours of
daylight could not be wasted lying in camp. The trains were now able to
straighten out and move with less confusion and delay; and the troops,
though still retaining their defensive formation, ready to repel any
sudden attack, found it possible to draw in the flanks and advance more
rapidly. Presently, as all the different elements of the army settled
into a steady, methodical march, Al found a chance to speak to General
Sully of the news he had heard of Tommy, so adventurously gained and so
surprising in itself. The General listened with lively interest.
"Well," said he, when Al had concluded his account of his encounter with
Te-o-kun-ko, "you certainly had a very unusual experience. This
Te-o-kun-ko must be a remarkable Indian to have let you go, once he had
you. Almost any Indian, particularly a Sioux, would have shot all of you
at such a time, or else have tied you to stakes and tortured you. I wish
he could be induced to come in. Such a man could be made very useful in
bringing the rest of the nation to peace. As for your brother, assuming
that this Indian has given you a straight story, it is hard to tell
whether he may still be at Fort La Framboise or not. You know that
trading post is only a short distance above Fort Sully and the traders
may have taken him down and turned him over to Colonel Bartlett. Again,
they may have placed him on some downward bound boat for St. Louis. But
my guess would be that he is still at Fort La Framboise and that the
traders are waiting for the return of my expedition so that the
Minnesota troops can take him with them to Fort Ridgely."
"Then what do you think I had better do, General Sully?" inquired Al.
His commander meditated a moment. "Well, my boy," he began, "I am not
anxious that you should leave me; I have enjoyed having you with us
through this expedition, and I don't exaggerate when I say that you have
made yourself as useful as any of my regular staff officers, and have
been as courageous in conduct and as uncomplaining under hardships as
any soldier could be,--probably more courageous than necessary, though
that is never a condemnable fault. But my judgment is that, since you
are in this country primarily to find your brother, your proper course
will be to get to Fort La Framboise as soon as possible. When we reach
the Yellowstone you will probably be able to go on ahead of the army to
Fort Union, on the Missouri, where, no doubt, you can soon catch a boat
downward bound from Fort Benton which will take you to Fort La Framboise
in a few days."
Al was deeply gratified by his commander's words of praise, the more so
since General Sully was not a man given to flattery nor to the bestowal
of undue praise upon his subordinates. He very much disliked the idea of
leaving the army and his many friends in it before the conclusion of the
campaign, but he felt that the General was right. Indeed, it had been
his opinion ever since his conversation with Te-o-kun-ko that he ought
to get to Fort La Framboise as soon as he could, but he had also felt
that he owed it to General Sully to await the latter's opinion and be
governed by it, and he was glad to find that this opinion agreed with
his own.
As the army advanced westward, the country became more sterile rather
than less so. It was evident that there had been no rain in this region
for a long time and whatever grass had ever grown there had, moreover,
been eaten off right down to the roots by a plague of grasshoppers.
These insects, moving across the country in vast multitudes, often
caused widespread devastation all over the West in early days, and many
a pioneer farmer saw his entire crop of corn, small grain, and
vegetables utterly destroyed in a single day by the ravenous pests while
he stood by, helpless to protect or save the fruits of his year of hard
work. In the case of the Northwestern Indian Expedition, the visitation
of the grasshoppers, together with lack of water, entailed untold
suffering upon the thousands of animals with the column. Hardly any
corn or grain was left; and the poor beasts, enfeebled by their weeks of
hard, hot marching, generally with insufficient food and water, were
becoming mere skeletons, hardly able to keep moving.
The night of August 9, which had witnessed the end of the battle of the
Little Missouri, as the fight in the Bad Lands came to be called, found
the army camping beside the bed of a dry creek; and each man lay down to
sleep after a supper consisting of one cracker and a bit of bacon, with
nothing to drink, while the horses had neither food nor water. The two
following days were more like nightmares than realities. Most of the
mules and oxen of the two wagon trains contrived to stagger along
somehow. But one by one the worn-out cavalry horses began to succumb.
When they could keep up no longer, their riders would shoot them to end
their sufferings; and all along the dreary miles of white, dusty alkali
plains, sprinkled here and there with sparse growths of sage brush or
cactus, the wake of the army was dotted with the bodies of scores of the
poor, dumb victims of starvation and thirst. By this time nearly all
the men were walking and leading their horses, in order to save the
latter as much as possible. So passed the first heart-sickening day
after the close of the Indian attacks; and as darkness fell at the end
of a torturing march of thirty-two miles, the troops sunk down upon the
brink of a lake of clear, sparkling water, so bitter with alkali that
neither man nor beast could do more than taste it and then feast his
aching eyes on its delusive, poisonous beauty. The victorious army,
which had conquered all its human foes, seemed like to perish miserably
under the rigors of inhospitable Nature.
Despite his own sufferings, Al had one satisfaction, which was that
Cottontail kept up much better than most of the horses of the
expedition. The fact that he was a tough, sturdy little animal by nature
had something to do with his good condition; yet Al knew that the care
he had given the horse throughout the campaign had been chiefly
responsible for bringing him into the present crisis in a state to
withstand its hardships; for he had never failed to supply Cottontail
with water and grass whenever opportunity offered, even at the cost of
his own rest or comfort. Yet even Cottontail had become so desperate
with thirst by the second night of the desert march that he pawed and
neighed and stamped the whole night through. As every other animal was
doing the same thing, the camp was in an uproar of misery, and few of
the men could sleep for sympathy with their suffering four-footed
comrades.
Dawn came at last, after hours of darkness which seemed long as
eternity, and the suffering caravan crept on. The guides had assured
General Sully that he could reach the Yellowstone that day, and about
four o'clock in the afternoon the advance guard suddenly broke into
confusion, and those behind them saw the men toss their hats in the air,
while the sound of cheers and carbine shots came back to their ears. The
Yellowstone was in sight, though still several miles off, and across the
wide, flat valley could be seen the groves of green cottonwoods along
its banks with the strong, swift current of the river beyond, shining
bright and beckoning in the sunlight. With an inrush of new vitality
the whole column surged forward, and the drivers of the mule teams were
hardly able to restrain the poor animals as they struggled to run
forward into the stream. The General and his officers, declining, as
they always did, to accept any advantage over the men afforded by their
position, held back their own horses and allowed the trains and the
troops to reach the river first. Al, mounting Cottontail for the first
time in two days, rode back to the ambulance in which Wallace lay, and
secured his canteen, as well as those of the driver and of two other
wounded men who were riding with him. Hurrying, then, to the river he
threw Cottontail's reins over his head and left him to drink, filled the
canteens, and ran back to meet the ambulance. Then, after Wallace had
drunk, he took from the latter's canteen his own first deep swallow of
the cool, life-restoring water.
There was no more marching for that day. Men and animals had indulged
too freely in the luxury of water to be fit for any more immediate
exertion. The army went into camp and every one took a bath, for the
first time in weeks, and washed out his clothing, soiled and stiffened
with perspiration and dirt. But the arrival at the river had not
relieved the situation with regard to forage, for the grasshoppers had
cleaned off the grass right up to the banks of the Yellowstone. The
soldiers, however, went in crowds into the cottonwood groves where they
cut armfuls of branches and leaves and brought to their horses, who ate
ravenously of these not unpalatable substitutes for grass. The expected
steamboats were not in sight, but the cannon soon began to boom at
intervals, signalling the army's arrival to the steamers, if the latter
were anywhere near.
And then, just before sunset, a heavy column of smoke appeared, rising
above the tree tops up river. It could come from nothing but steamboats.
"They evidently expected us to strike the river farther up," said
General Sully, as he and a number of other officers assembled on the
bank, anxiously watching the bend above for the first sight of the
boats. "It's fortunate they were within sound of the guns or I should
have had to send scouts to look for them."
In a few moments the bow of the first steamer emerged from behind the
timber point, and then appeared her tall smoke stacks, with the little
pilot-house between them, towering above the dazzling white woodwork of
her cabins.
"The _Chippewa Falls_!" exclaimed every one in a breath, as she steamed
majestically into full view.
Close behind her came the Alone and then the spectators watched the bend
for the third steamer, the old _Island City_, so pleasantly remembered
by the staff officers. But she did not appear; and shortly the _Chippewa
Falls_ glided up to the bank and a landing plank was thrown out. General
Sully stepped aboard and heartily grasped the hand of Captain Hutchison,
saying,
"I am delighted to see you, Captain. We are badly in need of you. How
long have you been waiting for us?"
"Ten days," replied Captain Hutchison, broadly smiling his pleasure at
seeing the army after his tedious days of expectation.
"So long? I congratulate you on your quick trip up this unknown river,"
said the General.
"Rea, back here with the _Alone_, and I, have been the first to
navigate it," replied the Captain, with a little pardonable pride.
"Rea and you?" exclaimed the General, anxiously. "Where is Lamont with
the _Island City_?"
"I'm sorry to tell you, General Sully," returned Captain Hutchison,
"that the _Island City_ struck a snag a couple of miles below the mouth
of the Yellowstone on the evening we were entering. She sank very
quickly and boat and cargo are a total loss, though Lamont is trying to
get the engines out of her and hopes that one of the boats coming down
from Fort Benton will take them on board and carry them to St. Louis for
him."
General Sully and his officers stood aghast at this disastrous piece of
news. Finally the Assistant Adjutant General, Captain Pell, spoke up.
"That puts us in fine shape," he lamented. "She had nearly all the corn,
didn't she?"
"Fifty thousand pounds," replied General Sully, looking very much
chagrined. "And most of the barrelled pork, and the building materials
for the post on the Yellowstone. We shall have to give up building that
this year. How much corn have you aboard, Captain?" he asked, addressing
Captain Hutchison.
"Very little; three or four thousand pounds," the other replied. "The
_Alone_ has about the same."
"Enough for about one feed for all the stock in the command," said the
General. "We shall have to pull out for Fort Union as quickly as
possible."
"Yes, sir," Captain Hutchison interrupted; "and not only on account of
your troops and animals, but on account of the boats. The river is
falling very fast and I doubt if we can get over the shoals below here
now without lightening the boats and double-tripping, or else using the
army wagons to haul cargo around the shallow places."
"Well, we shall have to cross the river in the morning and march down at
once," said the General, with a sigh as he thought of the plans he would
have to forego on account of this unexpected misfortune. "Meanwhile my
commissary and his assistant--" he indicated Lieutenant Bacon and
Al,--"will issue rations to the troops for to-morrow's use from your
boat."
The General went ashore to greet Captain Rea, whose boat had now tied
up to the bank, and the Lieutenant and Al went to work checking out
provisions. It was Al's last experience as commissary's assistant, for
when he returned to camp the General said to him:
"I think now will be your best opportunity for getting to Fort La
Framboise promptly. You can go down with Captain Lamont if he takes a
Fort Benton boat; and you had better start early in the morning so as
not to miss him. The distance is about fifty miles and you can probably
reach Fort Union to-morrow night. The fort is directly opposite the
mouth of the Yellowstone, you know. I will give you a letter to the
commanding officer advising him that the army will arrive there in the
course of the next three or four days, and I will send an escort with
you in case you should encounter Indians."
Al spent the evening in going about the camp and bidding good-bye to his
many friends in the various commands, especially in the Dakota Cavalry,
the Eighth Minnesota, and the Sixth Iowa. The Coyotes crowded around
him as if he were one of their own number, and Captain Miner said to
him,
"When you reach eighteen, come back to Dakota and enlist with us. I want
such recruits as you."
And Corporal Wright added,
"Don't go after any more redskins the way you did at Tahkahokuty; for if
the Coyotes aren't around, you'll lose your hair."
"I'll try to keep it on, Charlie," replied Al, laughing. "And, meantime,
you fellows want to remember when you go into action that you're not the
whole line of battle, or some of you may suddenly get bald, too."
His last visit was to Wallace Smith and it had a result both surprising
and pleasant.
"I wish I could go with you, Al," said Wallace, feeling of his stiff,
bandaged arm disgustedly. "It's awfully tiresome dragging around in an
ambulance, away from the boys and not able to do anything. And Doctor
Freeman tells me I shall not be fit for duty for at least three months;
so, though I can use my right arm perfectly and feel as well as I ever
did in my life, I suppose I'll have to be on the sick list all the time
until the Second Brigade gets back to Minnesota."
Al looked at his friend steadily for a moment while an idea rapidly
evolved itself in his mind.
"Well, why not go with me?" he asked at length. "If you're to be laid up
for three months, anyway, you're entitled to sick furlough for that
long. Yet you can ride, and shoot a revolver, and get around all right,
and you can reach Minnesota in ninety days more comfortably for yourself
and with less trouble to the army and the hospital corps by going on a
boat to St. Louis and then up the Mississippi to St. Paul, than you can
by marching overland with the column."
Wallace's eyes and mouth opened wide with sheer astonishment at the
brilliance of this plan.
"You're a genius, Al," he exclaimed. "I believe it can be done, too.
It's against my principles to play off and I wouldn't think of trying to
get away if it wasn't plain that I'm perfectly useless here for the rest
of the season. But it will be bully if I can go down with you. Let's
hunt up Doctor Freeman."
They found the Doctor, who was Medical Director of the army, at
headquarters. He at once gave his approval to the plan and wrote a
recommendation to Colonel Thomas that Private Wallace Smith, of the
Eighth Minnesota Volunteer Infantry, be given a ninety-day furlough.
Colonel Thomas was quickly found, and in five minutes the furlough was
issued, authorizing Wallace to be absent from his regiment until
November 12, and to report for duty on or before that date at Fort
Ridgely, Minnesota.
Next morning just after daybreak Al and Wallace, accompanied by twelve
cavalrymen under a sergeant, boarded one of the steamers, which were
already busy ferrying troops and wagons across the river. Here Al bade
farewell to Lieutenant Dale and the other staff officers who had been
his closest companions for so long. General Sully, as always devoting
his personal attention to the care of his troops, was on the bank,
directing the passage of the river. He handed Al the letter to the
Captain of Company I, Thirtieth Wisconsin Infantry, commanding at Fort
Union, and shook hands with him heartily.
"I am sorry to be leaving the expedition so abruptly, General," said
Al. "I wish I could stay with you until the campaign is finished."
"You won't miss much," returned the General. "The campaign is virtually
over now and we shall be getting down to Fort Rice as rapidly as
possible. We will march for Fort Union from here as soon as we are rid
of these emigrants, who will go on alone to the gold fields after we
have taken them across the river on the boats." Then he continued,
kindly, "I wish you the best of success in finding your brother, my boy.
I hope we shall meet again, and if you decide to try for West Point and
I can help you in any way, let me know. Take care of yourself, now, and
don't indulge too much in your weakness for getting into ticklish
places. Good-bye!"