BATTLE AND VICTORY
And this was the story that went on the heels of the escort convoying
the gun-traders in to the fort, and much did Major Berry relish the
composition of that report. It had long been the claim of himself and
his comrades that white men were encouraged to enter the reservation
with arms and cartridges, and that it was easy for the Sioux to lure
their police, or to mislead the sheriff, away from the point where
these unprincipled smugglers crossed the line.
Now, infuriated at the cowardice and treachery of two of their number,
Pearson, the leader, and Bent, the wagoner, had made a clean breast of
the business. They had driven hard bargains, had laid in good stores of
beaver, wolf, and deer skins, and no little cash. Then Little Crow
came, quarrelled over an obvious cheat, called one partner a liar, was
struck, abused, and thrown out. He galloped away and came back with
Gamble, a man they dare not let live, once having learned their secret.
Both Little Crow and he were treacherously shot by the partners as they
were riding to warn George Sword and his police. Then came the swift
vengeance of the Sioux, the flight of Hurley and Gross, leaving their
unwary comrades to an awful fate. While one party of Indians made way
with the wagon, in hopes of running it--horses, contents, and all--to
the camp of Si Tanka, another party, the immediate relatives and
friends of Little Crow, rode off with the two captives to the village
where Little Crow lay dying, and finally, fearing interruption there,
came back to the valley by night for the wildest, most delirious orgy
known to Indian tradition--the slow doing to death of captured enemy by
ingenious and horrible torture.
And this was the indescribable ceremony nipped in the bud by our young
lieutenant and his twoscore men, to whose energy, courage, and skill
Major Berry gave all credit, though Garrett claimed it "in the name of
my troop."
All night had they faced a furious and clamorous band--chiefs,
warriors, and women--shouting denunciation, demanding their prey, and
threatening attack in tremendous force. But Geordie had posted his men
for battle, hidden the recaptured under the bank, and dared the whole
band to come on and get them, if they thought it advisable, which, it
seems, they did not. With his patients on Indian _travois_ ("borrowed,"
ponies and all, perhaps without ceremony, from the supply on the spot),
Graham slowly retraced his steps the following morning, and was met
half-way in by the squadron in force, the heartiest kind of a welcome,
and news that thrilled through his veins like the sound of the charge.
"The --th and your own troop are camped south of the line, Mr. Graham.
I have orders for you to go in to-morrow."
Just so soon, therefore, as he could turn over his patients to the care
of the surgeon, write his brief report of the scout, and say good-bye
and a few words of thanks to Sergeant Drum and his fellows, who longed
to tell him how they hated to let him go, and after hearty handshakes
from Berry and his brother officers ("Samson" Stone taking special
credit to himself for having, as he expressed it, "put Graham and
Connell onto the time of their lives"), our Geordie blushingly bade
farewell to these comrades of a strenuous month, and, with faithful
Connell at his side, and a little escort attending, rode away down to
the Chaduza, to report to the general commanding, and then go on to his
own, for ominous tales had come from the Bad Lands. There was trouble
in store for all.
[Illustration: UNITED STATES CAVALRY IN WINTER RIG]
First, however, there was wonderful welcome for him at Niobrara. The
skies had grown wintry. The snow patches were beginning to dot the
prairie, but the camp-fires burned the brighter, and men clustered
about them and talked of the "luck" of the new lieutenant, whom the
general himself alighted from his escort wagon to greet and to
question. For several days the chums were needed at the fort, where
both prisoners and witnesses were held, but the case against the
self-styled hunters was so overwhelming that the demand for their stay
was soon at an end, and, in the train of the general, they went on
westward to the winter camp of the assembled cavalry, whither "the old
regiment" had preceded them, and there, one dark and wintry evening,
with the snow-flakes sifting down, and the depths of a distant valley
all dotted with tiny blazes--the cook fires of a whole brigade--they
were met by a troop of cavalry in fur caps and gauntlets, and huge,
blanket-lined overcoats--swarthy, bearded fellows, with service-stained
boots and trappings, but looking fit for the hardest kind of
campaigning and any kind of a fight. It swung from column into line,
saluted the general with advanced carbines, and then, wheeling by fours
to right, trotted briskly away with the little cortège, and presently
its commander, after a few words with the general, fell back, peering
from under his bushy headpiece, and sung out in cheery tones Geordie
had not heard for many a day, yet knew on the instant:
"Ah, there you are, Mr. Graham! We have a horse with us ready for you
now!" And lo! it was Captain Lane, with his own troop ("E" of the
--th), sent out to lead the general's escort into camp. Leaving the
companions of the long, jolting ambulance ride, Geordie sprang to the
back of a mettlesome bay, led forward by a muffled-up trooper who
steadied the young officer's stirrup before turning aside to remount,
while a tall, spare, wiry-looking sergeant sat stiffly in saddle, his
fur-covered hand at salute, his long gray mustache and stubbly beard
and thin hooked nose being almost all that could be seen of the face;
yet the twinkle in his waiting captain's eyes and a twitch in the
muscles of the veteran's lips set Geordie to staring, and presently out
went his hand and up went his glad young voice:
"Nolan! Nolan! _You_ back with us again!"
"Couldn't keep out of it, sir, when we got word that the old troop was
to have another Indian campaign. No more could Toomey."
And lo! it was his friend of the Big Mogul now again bestriding a troop
horse, detailed specially to meet him! And Lane, with a wave of his
hand and a laugh that was good to hear, left the three cronies of
Silver Run to ride in together while he galloped on to his duties.
"But the mines, Nolan, and your position?" questioned Geordie, as soon
as the greetings were over and he could recover from his amaze.
"The mine is as sound as a government bond, sir, and Shiner's holding
down my job till I want it again; and Mr. Anthony told me to say that
whenever the lieutenant got tired of soldiering to come back with
Toomey and take his old trick with the shovel."
And so, joyous and laughing, the three friends of old rode down to the
thronging camps in the valley, and to the stern duties that so soon
awaited them.
For there came a day when men's faces went white with the news that
Sitting Bull, the great chief (Tatanka-iyo-Tanka), had died in
desperate fight with the police sent to arrest him; that Si Tanka and
his band, nabbed by "Napa Yahmni," had most unaccountably managed later
to elude him, and were now at large, raising the standard of revolt,
summoning all the wild warriors far and near to join forces with him.
And then, indeed, the frontier blazed with signal-fires by night and
burning ranches by day, and there came a week of hard riding for the
old regiment, and of sharp campaigning for all--a week in which at last
the wily red chief Si Tanka was finally surrounded and, with all his
people and ponies, herded on down through the Bad Lands to the breaks
of Wounded Knee--fierce, truculent, defiant. For long months he had
braved the "Great Father" himself, refusing to submit to any authority;
but the sight of those long columns of silent, disciplined "horse
soldiers," squadrons white and black, some of them riding along with
wonderful little field-guns clinking beside them on wheels, overawed
Si Tanka's followers and disheartened his friends.
There came a day when he had to submit, and agree to surrender, and go
whither orders might send him, and with his fierce spirit crushed, he
bowed his head and took to his lodge, and laid him down in his robes,
sick, body and soul. And then the old regiment marched over to the
mission to guard prisoners and property, and another was sent scouting
after scattering little war parties, and Connell, who had again been
serving with the general, got word to Geordie that orders had come
putting an end to his "holiday," and calling him East to his legitimate
duty. Could Geordie get over to see him, and the disarming of Big
Foot's band, on the morrow?
Graham showed the missive to his captain, and Lane took it to the
colonel. "Let Graham go," said the latter. "There's nothing to be done
here."
And so it happened that once again the two chums were together, and
this time on a momentous and perilous day.
They saw from the hill-side the scowling braves of Big Foot, led forth
from camp and seated on the ground, shrouded in their blankets, in
long, curving lines. They saw the designated troops of a rival regiment
drawn up in silent array, facing the sullen warriors. They saw the
women and children of the latter huddled at the edge of the Indian
camp, while officers, sergeants, and soldiers were sent searching
through the frowzy lodges for secreted arms. Through their glasses they
saw the old medicine-man, in the centre of the Indian ranks, glancing
furtively, savagely, right and left, his lips moving in muttered
incantation, while the searchers among the lodges came forth from one
after another, baffled, empty-handed, suspicious. Why had not some one
suggested it would be wise to search, individually, each brave before
conducting him to the line?
"There's going to be trouble, Con!" cried Graham, suddenly dropping his
field-glass. "Look! There goes McCrea!" And surely enough, at that very
instant, as though he, too, had noted the ominous signs, their elder
comrade came galloping diagonally across the front, heading straight
for the spot where stood the commander of the silent little battalion.
"He's going to warn them," answered Connell. "Let's join him."
[Illustration: "UP WENT TWO LITTLE PUFFS OF EARTH"]
And just as he spoke, and before either could turn to the waiting
horses, up into air went the hands of the chanter, up went two little
puffs of earth, sand, and gravel as he tossed them on high; and before
even they could come sifting and showering downward, up in a flash
sprang the muttering line, off went every blanket, and out leaped a
warrior, armed and painted for battle. Suddenly they whirled on the
searchers advancing upon them. Crash went their wild volley, downing
both friend and foe, for the first shots tore straight through the
huddle of women, and their shrieks followed swift on the deadly clamor
of the guns.
And then for a moment there was dire confusion. In the space of a
second, it seemed, the red line had leaped to its feet, then dashed
through the smoke of its volley, straight for the cowering forms of old
men, women, and children. Another second and, sheltered by the skirts
of their squaws, the warriors were blazing away at the astonished
soldiery. "Good God, boys, we can't fire on women and children!"
shouted one brave young sergeant. "Down on your faces! Down!" And
"down" was his last word, as down on his bullet-riven face he plunged,
shot dead through the brain.
Almost at the same moment McCrea's galloping steed stumbled heavily
forward and rolled stiffening on the frozen earth, his gallant rider
flung headlong beyond him. Another moment and Geordie and Connell,
leaping from saddle, had run to his aid, even as the crash of a volley,
at the word of command, told that the troopers had answered the furious
challenge. Another moment still, and a young surgeon sprang to the
relief of the signalling officers; and then, leaving their senseless
friend to his care, all athrill with the fury of battle, Graham and
Connell, "Badger" and "Coyote," whipping out their revolvers, rushed on
down the slope to join the blue line just springing afoot to the
charge.
Of the moment that followed, the wild cheer and onward dash, the race
over blood-stained snow-patches, the stumble over falling forms (some
friend, some foe), the ripping and slashing at fire-spitting lodges, in
which some of the band had sought refuge, the agonized screaming of
children, the appalling shrieks of the squaws--of all this it was
difficult later to give clear account. Geordie only knew that he, and
those nearest him in the rush through the smoke, lost many a shot
rather than risk killing fleeing women and babes, spared warriors who
would never spare them, for down went first one comrade, down went
another, and all on a sudden something bit, stung, and tore through his
thigh, and down on his outflung arms, with Con sobbing over him, went
Geordie Montrose Graham, first captain the year agone, fireman in July,
and now junior lieutenant of Company "E."
Many a Christmas holiday was spoiled that winter by the news from
Wounded Knee. "Bud" Graham, Columbia freshman, spending a fortnight
with father and mother at the Point, had gone with them and Colonel
Hazzard to Grant Hall one starlit evening. Orders were to be published
to the corps of cadets at supper, and the commandant wished them to
hear. They ascended the broad stone steps, Mrs. Graham on the arm of
the colonel, Mrs. Hazzard escorted by grim "Dr. Sawney," who was
wondering not a little what might be coming. Two or three officers from
the mess joined the little family party, and they all clustered at the
big folding-doors--Bud breathless with anticipation and excitement. The
cadet corporal of the guard saluted at sight of the distinguished
arrivals, and, at a sign from the colonel, held open the portal on one
side so that, without being seen, the visitors could distinctly hear
what might be read within.
And presently it came. In ringing tones the adjutant ordered attention.
The chatter and clamor instantly ceased. Briefly the young officer
rattled off the details for the morrow, and then announced:
"The following communication is published for the information of the
battalion of cadets:
"FIELD HEADQUARTERS,
"FORT NIOBRARA, NEB., _December_ --, 1890.
"COMMANDING OFFICER, --TH CAVALRY,
"_In the Field, near Wounded Knee._
"SIR,--The general commanding the military division directs me
to notify you of the return of the detachment under Major
Berry, --d Cavalry, after a thorough scout of some three weeks'
duration, resulting in the breaking up and scattering of
several of the bands of 'ghost-dancers,' and the capture of at
least one large party now being sent under escort to Pine Ridge
Agency.
"One most important result of the scout was the discovery and
arrest of certain white men engaged in selling arms and
ammunition to the Indians, the capture of much of their
'outfit,' and the rescue, under circumstances of imminent
peril, of two of the party whom the Indians were in the very
act of putting to death by torture.
"The entire credit for this exploit, which was conducted with
excellent judgment and most commendable dash and daring, is
given by Major Berry to Lieutenant George Montrose Graham, of
your regiment, and the division commander--
But he could be heard no further. The iron discipline of West Point was
powerless to stem the torrent of cadet enthusiasm at this public
mention of their beloved leader of the year gone by. Up sprang the
entire corps, and the rafters rang with the thunder of their cheers--a
thunder that seemed to redouble rather than dwindle at sight of the
silver-haired commandant, smiling in through the opening door.
And from such a scene as that, with streaming eyes and trembling lips
and a heart overflowing with pride, joy, gratitude, and the longing to
throw herself upon her knees and pour out her very soul in praise and
thanksgiving, this devoted mother was summoned to another.
The doctor had fled away from the bevy of friends who had hastened to
congratulate and shake him by the hand. He had finally escaped to his
little den, trying to compose himself, and write calmly and
judiciously, as became a father, to his soldier son. Bud, nearly wild
with delight, had finally been "fired," as he expressed it, from Cadet
Frazier's room by the officer-in-charge, and started for home toward
half-past ten o'clock, when in front of the officers' mess he was
suddenly hailed by a grave-faced professor:
"You're needed at home, Bud," and, running, he found Colonel Hazzard
and his father at the library door, a telegram open in the latter's
trembling hand.
"Not a word now, son. Just read this and then--call mither."
With paling face and suddenly swimming eyes, Bud read the dancing
words:
"Severe action. Graham wounded; left thigh. Serious, but doing
well. Our loss heavy.
"(Signed) MCCREA."
And so they got the first news of the bitter midwinter battle that
ended the days of Big Foot and so many of his band, that cost us the
lives of so many gallant officers and men, among the icy flats and
snow-patched ravines along the Wounded Knee.
* * * * *
But there came a meeting in March that brought surcease for all that
fond mother's sorrow. There came an evening when the battalion, in its
muffling winter garb of gray, went bounding up the broad stone steps
into the old mess-hall, and, stripping off caps and overcoats, quickly
settled down to their hearty supper, for the days were longer, the
first spring drills had begun, and tremendous appetites had these alert
young fellows. The clamor and chatter began on the instant--a merry
riot of chaff and fun. No outlying picket gave warning of the approach
of disturbers, but once again that great-hearted commandant had planned
a demonstration that should delight a mother's soul. Once again he was
leading her up to the massive portal, with a tall youth swinging on
crutches beside her, and a joyous little party in her train. Only that
day had he arrived--her Geordie--a little pallid from long housing and
wearied from the long ride, but wonderfully well and happy otherwise,
and assured that a few weeks more would see him strong as ever. Connell
had met him at Buffalo. Bud was up from New York. McCrea had escorted
him all the way from Chicago, where John Bonner would have held him
for a week of lionizing, but he could not be stopped for an hour. Nolan
and Toomey had ridden every mile to the railway to see their young
leader aboard, but over the meeting with that yearning mother there was
none on earth to spy. Long hours she kept him to herself, but, now that
evening had come, she yielded him to the colonel's pleading.
"It is for their sake," said he, and for their sake even Geordie
consented.
And so, very much as he had planned on the previous occasion, Colonel
Hazzard led them to the door as supper was nearly over, having
previously notified his officer-in-charge, but no man in the corps was
in the secret. "Whatever happens," said he, "shall be entirely
spontaneous."
For a moment they waited until, as before, the voice of the adjutant
was heard, clear and commanding, above the clamor. Then came the
publications, a perfunctory order or two, and then the colonel put
forth a hand, pushed open the door, and while Mrs. Graham and Bud,
trembling with excitement, clung to each other's arms, and the rest of
the group instinctively closed about them, Hazzard turned to the two
young graduates--his captains of the year gone by, now looking not a
little white and by no means happy--and signalled "step within," he
himself close following, and throwing wider the door so that Mrs.
Graham might see.
As the big half swung slowly inward, and the two crutches were planted
across the threshold, Connell hung back, but the colonel would not so
have it. The corporal of the guard, surprised at the intrusion, stepped
forward to check the strangers within their gates, then as suddenly
halted, his eyes alight with instant recognition and rejoicing, his
hand springing up in salute, even as the cadet officers at the head of
the nearest tables found their feet in instant and irresistible
impulse. Up, too, sprang the first captain, at the opposite side, his
first thought to rebuke, his second, at sight of the halted trio, to
shout with delight. Before he could gather his wits the matter was
settled for him, for all. The adjutant, amazed, dropped his paper and
uplifted his eyes, for his voice was stilled by a stentorian shout from
an inner table and the simultaneous rush of a light-footed fellow who
almost swept Pops off his crutches as his arms flung about him.
"Cyclone" Holt, a big-lunged Kentuckian, had bounded to his chair with
a yell of "Hurray! 'Badger' and '_Ki_ote!'" and all order was gone in
an instant. Up as one man sprang the startled battalion. Had Holt gone
mad? Had Frazier a fit? For answer came cheers from those nearest the
door, cheers that spread like wildfire from table to table, and all in
a second every young soldier was swinging a napkin and shouting like
mad--some leaping on chairs, some even mounting the tables, a scene
such as the mess-hall never witnessed before. Vain the effort of some
one to guide the cheering (they had not then learned an academy yell),
and for once in its day the corps went wild, every man for himself.
They yelled at Geordie, blushing and dishevelled from Benny's embrace.
They yelled at Connell, standing modestly by, with his set lips
twitching, his eyes filling fast. They yelled at their colonel, now
smilingly backing away. They yelled for three minutes without ever a
stop, until some fellow, versed in town-meeting methods, began yelling
for "Speech!" and that started others, and "Speech!" was the word
ringing all over the hall, and that was more than enough to start
Geordie. Speak he could not and would not. He could only stand smiling
and shaking his head, until he saw they would not be denied; and then,
at last, the lad who had faced and downed popular prejudice all through
his cadet life, who had faced foes at the Point and foes on the
plains--faced them with dauntless front and determined will--who had
stood like a rock at the front of the enemy, trembled now like a leaf
in the sight of his friends, and so, for the first time, shrank back
and fled. Just as on the day of his graduation, our Geordie turned from
the tumult of comrade acclaim and sought his mother's side. Con darted
after him, and the big door closed on the chums of cadet days, on the
"Badger" and "Coyote"--on Connell and "Corporal Pops."
THE END
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