FIRST SIGHT OF THE FOE
In half an hour the sun was up and two little detachments of cavalry
were up and away--one of them, under Lieutenant O'Fallon, filing out of
the cotton-woods, at the eastward verge, and heading straight on the
trail of the couriers, who were already out of sight down the valley;
the other, leaving a few minutes later, was just disappearing from view
of the watchers in the bivouac, over the low ridge or divide that
spanned the northward sky-line. Once before, five years back, Geordie
Graham had led a little cavalry command on a swift and successful chase
after a gang of frontier desperadoes who had robbed the bank at
Argenta. Now, for the first time in his life, he was both guide and
commander. Now, as they had done time and again in cadet days, Connell
and Graham, "Badger" and "Coyote," went side by side, almost hand in
hand, on the path of stirring and at last perilous duty.
To Connell the scout had thus far been one of almost unalloyed
enjoyment and profit. Attached to the staff of the commander as
engineer and topographical officer, he had ridden at will on the flanks
of the column, a single orderly his sole attendant, a prismatic compass
his only instrument. Then with the declining hours of the day came the
making up of his notes, and after supper the hours of confab with
Geordie, who, whenever possible, would come over to headquarters
camp-fire. There was no sociability at his own.
"It is too bad," Major Berry had confided to Connell the third day out.
"It just so happened that 'Old Grumbly' was the one captain without a
subaltern when Mr. Graham reported for duty with us, and your fine
young classmate had to take the place of one of the absentees. The
colonel couldn't help himself. Grumbly is a good soldier in his way,
Mr. Connell, and knows his trade, too. I suppose Graham has--sized him
up?" This with a cock of his head and a keen glance.
"Shouldn't wonder, sir; but if he has, he's kept it to himself."
"Well, if Garrett gets to bothering Graham too much, you let me know."
"I will, sir, if Graham lets _me_ know, but--I'm mistaken in Graham if
he opens his head on the subject."
And though the scout was now in its third week, and things had been
said and done by "Grumbly" Garrett that set other men to talking, not a
word had come from "Coyote."
But it soon transpired that if Graham wouldn't speak of his troop
commander _pro tem._, neither did he speak to him, save when occasion
required. Day after day on the march it was noted that while the senior
lieutenant of each troop rode side by side with his captain, the young
West Pointer serving with "F" was almost always at the rear of its
column of twos, where, as it transpired, Garrett had given him orders
to march and see that the men kept closed. But no complaint came from
Graham.
Now, however, as the two old chums rode away on a side scout of their
own, it might well be expected that "Coyote" would be less reticent.
The eyes of half the command had followed them appreciatively as the
detachment started, Graham and Connell in the lead, Sergeant Drum, and
his nineteen following in compact column of twos. No sooner did they
reach the outlying sentries, however, than it was noted that the young
leader looked back over his shoulder, and the next moment two troopers
detached themselves from the rest and spurred out ahead until full six
hundred yards in the lead. Then two others obliqued out to the right
and left until nearly as a great a distance on the flanks.
"Knows his biz," said the adjutant, sententiously.
"Knows nothing but what I've taught him day by day," snarled Captain
Garrett. "And I wash my hands of all responsibility for that detachment
once it's out of sight of us."
"Shut up," growled a junior. "The 'Old Man's' got ears, and he'll hear
you."
"Well, I _want_ him to hear--it's time he _did_ hear--and heed," was
the surly answer. But "Grumbly's" eyes were wisely watching the major
as he spoke, noting that the "Old Man" was busy with his binocular,
following Graham's movements up the long, gradual, northward slope. The
moment the major dropped it and turned toward the group, Captain
Garrett changed his tone. "What I'm most afraid of is his getting
lost," said he.
"You needn't be, captain," said the bearded commander, placidly. "Mr.
Graham knows this country better than we do. He spent long months here
before ever we set eyes on it."
Garrett's jaw dropped. "Then why didn't he tell me? How was I to know?"
"Principally, I fancy," drawled the adjutant, who loved to rub "Old
Grumbly's" fur the wrong way, "because you told him two weeks ago that
when you wanted advice or information on any subject from him you'd ask
it."
But while Graham had as yet won no friend in Captain Garrett, he had
found many among the troopers. His fine horsemanship, his kind,
courteous manner to them, his soldierly bearing toward their irascible
captain, had appealed to them at the start and held them more and more
toward the finish. They saw the second day out that he was no novice at
plainscraft. The captain had asked his estimate of the distance from a
ford of the Chaduza to a distant butte, and promptly scoffed at his
answer; indeed, it surprised most of them. Yet "Plum" Gunnison,
pack-master, who had served seven years at the post, said the
lieutenant was right. They saw within the fourth day that the new-comer
was an old stager in more ways than one. "Touch-the-Sky," scout and
interpreter, said the lieutenant knew sign talk, which was more than
their captain did. They were to see still more within the compass of a
day's march, but they had seen enough in their two weeks' comradeship
to give them confidence in the young officer they never felt for their
own and only "Grumbly," who, with all his experience, would often
blunder, and Grumbly's blunders told on his troop, otherwise they might
not have cared.
In low tone the troopers were chatting as they crossed the divide and
once more came in view of the two far out in advance, riding now
northeastward. They were following back, without much difficulty, the
hoof-prints of the two fugitives who, riding in terror and darkness,
had so fortunately found their bivouac at break of day. And it was of
these two both the men and their young officers were talking as the
little party jogged steadily on.
Peaceful hunters and law-abiding men the pair had represented
themselves. They were originally five in all--three "pardners," a
wagoner, and a cook. Their "outfit" consisted of a covered wagon with
four draught and three saddle horses. They indignantly spurned the
suggestion that they had whiskey to swap with the Indians for fur and
peltries. They had a ranch down on Snake River, were well known in
Valentine, had never made trouble, nor had trouble, with the Indians;
but the game was all gone from their home neighborhood, and so long as
they kept off the reservation they knew there was no reason for the
Indians troubling them. And here came another suggestion. The "Old
Man," Major Berry, had somewhat bluntly asked if they did not know they
had been trespassing, had been well within the reservation lines and
north of Nebraska, and the two swore stoutly that Lem Pearson, partner
and projector of the enterprise, had said he knew the country
perfectly, had been there half a dozen times, and they left it all to
him. They never dreamed they were doing wrong until their camp was
"jumped" in the dead of night, and the Sioux chased them every inch of
the way till they got in sight of the cavalry.
Yet here was the detachment, at six o'clock of this sparkling morning,
clear out of sight of the rest of the cavalry, and half-way across the
long swale of the next divide, and, though the print of the shod horses
was easily followed, not once yet, anywhere--although the little troop
was spread out in long extended line and searched diligently--not once
had they found the print of a pony hoof. Now they were full an hour,
and nearly four miles, out from camp, and Geordie signalled, slowly
swinging his campaign hat about his head, for his men to assemble, then
dismount and take their ten minutes' rest.
"Con," said he, presently, "it's my belief those scamps were lying. The
only Indians near the Chaduza were those that skipped for White River
last night and are probably heading for Eagle's Nest now. Their trail
must be three miles or more west of us here, and South Fork isn't three
miles ahead. We'll see it from yonder ridge."
Connell was squatting, tailor fashion, on the turf, and thoughtfully
playing "mumble-t'-peg" with his hunting-knife, while his troop horse
cropped thriftily at the bunch grass. Graham had been giving a glance
over his little command, watching the resetting of a saddle or a
careful folding of a blanket. It would presently be time to mount and
start, but there was something on his mind, and, as of old, he wanted
to have it out with his chum.
Connell drew his knife from the sod, then, with the point on the tip of
the left forefinger and the haft deftly held between the thumb and
finger of his right, shifted it over by his right ear and sent it
whirling down, saw it sink two inches in the sand, bolt upright, then
queried: "They said their camp was on the Fork ten miles away
northward. Could that be?"
"It might. The Fork turns almost square to the north and runs back of
Rosebud. But what I mean is, they weren't chased by the Sioux. I doubt
if they fought them at all."
"How about Gamble's horse?--and the blood? There's been some kind of a
fight. Look, Con! There's a signal!"
Surely enough. As Connell sprang to his feet and the men quickly turned
to their grazing horses, one of the troopers, far in advance, could be
seen close to the crest of the divide. He had dismounted to creep
forward and peer over, and now, half-way back to where he had left his
horse, was waving his hat, with right arm extended from directly over
his head down to the horizontal and to the east.
"Mount!" said Geordie, quietly, springing lightly to saddle with a
thrill of excitement in his young heart. "Follow at a walk, sergeant,
off to the northeast. That's where we're needed, Con."
For the advance-guard, mounting quickly, was now loping along parallel
with the divide, yet keeping well down below its backbone, and, putting
spurs to their horses, "Badger" and "Coyote," the chums of old, darted
swiftly away to join them.
Five minutes more, while a trooper held the horses of the young
officers and their guides, while in silence and with eager eyes the
little detachment came jogging over the swale to the support of the
leaders, three forms were crouching forward to the top of the wavelike
ridge, and presently three heads, uncovered, were peering over into the
valley beyond. Then the arm of one of them was outstretched, pointing.
Then the field-glasses of two others were unslung, fixed and focused
on some distant object; and then back, still crouching, came one of the
number, signalling to Sergeant Drum to come on. Whereupon, without a
word of command, simply following the example of their foremost man,
the riders gave the bridle-hand, and with the other whipped the ready
carbines from their sockets, and with the butts resting on the right
thigh, the brown muzzles advanced, came on at a swift trot, those in
rear unconsciously pressing forward on those in front.
Then another signal--this time from their young commander, who had come
running down afoot, leaving "Badger" at the crest. In the eagerness of
the forward rush the riders were opening out, coming right and left
front into line, as the soldiers say, and Graham's gauntleted
hands--the same gauntlets Big Ben had coveted three months
earlier--were extended full to right and left, the length of each arm,
and then brought "palms together" in front. "Close in," it said, as
plain as day, and almost instantly Drum's gruff voice could be heard in
rebuke; almost as quickly the practised riders could be seen closing
the outer leg and rein. Another moment and the little line was trotting
almost boot to boot. Then as they neared the point where the slope
became abrupt, Graham's right hand, palm forward, went straight aloft,
a gesture instantly repeated by the sergeant, and in two seconds more
the horses, panting a little with excitement, were pawing the turf, and
Drum's voice, low and compelling, ordered, "Count fours!" The next
moment the odd numbers darted forward four yards, and halted. The next,
with carbines swung over their shoulders, numbers one, two, and three
were swinging from saddle, the next all horses were again in one line,
with every fourth trooper still seated in saddle; and the dismounted
men deftly lashing their reins to the headstalls of numbers two and
three, while three himself passed his reins up to number four. Then,
nimbly, with carbines at trail, up came a dozen wiry young fellows in
dusty campaign rig, running swiftly up the slope, and in another moment
were sprawling on their stomachs close to the crest, their slouch hats
flung aside.
And this was what they saw: Before them, to the right front, stretching
away to the north, lay a broad valley, through which meandered a wider,
bigger stream than the familiar Chaduza. It came winding down from the
west before making its sweeping bend to the northward. It was fringed
in spots by cotton-woods, and bare to the very banks in others. It was
desolate and lifeless far as the eye could see, west and north. But
away to the northeast, perhaps seven miles or so, a faint column of
smoke was rising against the skies. Away to the northwest, perhaps a
dozen miles, in alternate puffs, another and narrower smoke column was
rising--Sioux signals, as they knew at once--and right down here before
their eyes, midway between the shining river and the foot of the
northward slope, perhaps two thousand yards out--a little more than a
mile--was coming toward them a four-horse wagon, its white top a wreck,
its struggling team lashed by the whip of the driver and the quirts of
half a dozen dusky outriders, while others still circled and shouted
and urged them on, while afar back on the east bank of the stream other
riders could be seen darting about in keen excitement. All on a sudden,
but by no means all unprepared, "Corporal Pops" and his little command
found themselves facing a new proposition and a band of turbulent
Sioux.