Captain Taylor saw the desperate need of help for the unfortunate
inmates of Fort Advance quite as clearly as did Buffalo Bill, but his
men were in heavy marching order, and there were the artillery and
ambulances to be thought of, too. The column was strung out along the
trail for two miles.
“It will take some time to bring the men up and form in line of battle,
Cody,” declared Captain Taylor.
“And meanwhile Oak Heart will throw his entire force over those
palisades!” cried the scout. “By the time we deploy into the valley
there’ll be no garrison, and the red devils can turn their attention
to us. The firing will call up the gang from the cañon, and we’ll be
between two fires.”
“It can’t be helped----”
“It _can_ be helped, sir--begging your pardon! Give me a few of your
men and let me push on. It will make a diversion in favor of the
garrison. If the braves see us coming they’ll hesitate about throwing
themselves into the fort and so being caught in a trap.”
“Good, Cody! You are right. And your appearance will at least show that
help is at hand and encourage the garrison. But I’m afraid you’ll be
cut to pieces.”
“We’ll have to take that chance. Somebody has got to die this day--why
not us?” demanded the courageous scout. “Let me have some of your
cavalry as they come up. There’s the head of the column!”
“Go, and God bless you, my brave fellow! Take all the men whose horses
can stand a hard run,” said the gallant captain.
He signaled the head of the column forward at once. The troops had
already heard the firing, and were eager to get into action.
“You’ll have to bring your artillery and ambulances down into the
valley by yonder ridge, captain,” said the scout, pointing out the
tongue of rocky land over which he had raced the day before with his
pack-load of ammunition for the beleaguered fort. “From there you can
sweep the valley to the very gates of the fort, and likewise you can
cover the exit of the cañon through which the ambushing party will like
enough pour in a short time.”
“Good! I’ll make a note of that,” declared the officer. “There, Cody,
are your men. Pick out the horses you think will be able to keep
somewhere near your whitey. Every man of them is eager to attend, I
promise you!”
This was true enough, as the scout well knew. In five minutes, with two
lieutenants and a couple of score of troopers at his heels, the scout
set the pace over the ridge and down into the smoke-wreathed valley.
They were soon in full sight of the fort and the redskins clamoring
about it. And it was a complete surprise to Oak Heart and his braves to
see reenforcements for the whites so near at hand. As for the defenders
of Fort Advance, they were wild with joy to see even this small troop
coming to their rescue.
Buffalo Bill’s white steed was recognized, and cheers rent the air from
the garrison which, a few moments before, had given up all hope. The
Indians had been about to rush the stockade, and then a hand-to-hand
fight would have ensued inside the fort which could have ended in but
one way. The redskins outnumbered the whites so greatly, despite their
losses, that the garrison would have been completely overwhelmed.
Oak Heart saw that he was likely to be defeated, after all. Victory had
all but perched upon his banners; now, with his forces separated, he
was very likely to taste the bitter ashes of defeat!
But the Sioux king was a born leader and strategist. He saw that,
in some way, his plans for ambuscading the relief party had fallen
through. His three hundred braves were idle up the cañon while the
whites from Fort Resistence were coming to the help of their comrades
by another way. Those reserve forces he needed, and needed at once.
He spoke to the White Antelope. She had acted as his aid all through
the battle, and now she wheeled her pony instantly and dashed away
toward the mouth of the cañon. She was instructed to inform the
ambuscading party of the change in affairs and to bring them back at
top speed.
Buffalo Bill and his flying column of cavalry saw and understood this
move. Lieutenant Dick Danforth, the dashing young lieutenant who ranked
in command of the party, spurred up beside Cody.
“See that girl yonder?” he cried.
“I see her,” returned the scout gravely.
“She’s a messenger, eh?”
“She is.”
“Isn’t that the way into the cañon where those other Indians were lying
in wait for us?”
“You’re mighty right, lieutenant,” admitted the scout.
“We must stop her!”
The scout remained silent, measuring the distance between them and the
flying White Antelope, and the mouth of the cañon as well.
“We’ve _got_ to stop her!” exclaimed Dick Danforth.
“How are you going to do it?” demanded Cody grimly.
Danforth picked up his carbine quickly. Cody at once laid his hand on
the young officer’s arm.
“No, no, Dick!” he said, with feeling. “Not that!”
“What do you mean, scout?” demanded the young officer, displeased.
“You must not shoot that girl!”
“Why, she’s a confounded squaw--and she’s an enemy--and she’s taking a
message that may bring trouble to us all.”
“She must be stopped; but you must not kill her.”
“What’s the matter with you, Cody?” the young man demanded again.
“She’s nothing but a redskin.”
“There is another way--without taking her life,” declared the scout.
“What makes you so tender of the squaw? Lord! I don’t ask _you_ to
shoot her,” and the lieutenant raised his carbine again.
Cody’s hand this time fell upon the lieutenant’s wrist with force, as
he urged Chief alongside the other’s mount.
“And by God, sir! _you_ shall not shoot her--above all men!” he cried.
“What do you mean by this?” demanded Lieutenant Danforth, his face
white as death. “I have a reason for killing every damned Indian that
comes under my eye--you know _that_, Bill Cody!”
“Perhaps; but not White Antelope,” said the scout earnestly.
“And why not White Antelope, as you call her? Is she any better than
any other of the devil’s red spawn? Let go of my arm! I’m going to
shoot that girl!”
“You are beside yourself!” exclaimed Cody coldly. “Do you want it told
around your mess that you deliberately shot a squaw-woman?”
“She’s a messenger, man!”
“That’s no excuse.”
“I tell you the red devils killed my people--butchered them! I saw my
father with his head split open by an Indian hatchet! My mother was
dragged away to a worse death, it’s likely. _I’ve sworn revenge on
every redskin that walks the earth!_ Let go of me, Cody, or I’ll kill
you!”
“You are beside yourself, sir,” said the scout, still coldly. “You
would not kill me, for I have always been your friend. It was I who got
you your chance at West Point. It was I who made you what you are now.
You’ll not kill _me_, Dick Danforth!”
The two had ridden furiously ahead of the troopers, both bearing off
toward the cañon’s mouth toward which the squaw was flying on her pony.
The other men could not hear this conversation, jerked out between the
jumps of the two great horses.
That Dick Danforth, the young lieutenant, was beside himself, was
easily to be seen. He was not responsible at the moment for his actions
or speech.
“That gal must not be harmed, Danforth,” said Cody firmly. “If you
hold any gratitude in your heart toward me, show it now. I demand that
the girl be unharmed--now or at any other time--and especially at your
hand.”
The scout’s seriousness--aye, his passion in saying this--impressed
Danforth so deeply that his own rage gave place to wonder.
“Why, what do you know about her, Cody? Who is she?”
“It does not matter. I must have your promise. _You_ must never harm
the White Antelope. Indeed, you must guard her and keep others from
harming her with your life; do you understand?”
“No, I _don’t_ understand. And I won’t help an Injun.”
“You will do as I say, Dick.”
“No!”
“I demand it, Dick!” said the scout feelingly.
“That is not fair, Cody!”
“It is fair. I saved your life. I made you what you are. I have a right
to some return, and I demand this.”
“Oh, thunder, Bill!” ejaculated Dick Danforth, more in his usual light
tone than before. “If you put it _that_ way----”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll have to promise.”
“Very well, my boy. I hold you to your word.”
“But don’t you ever ask me to save an Injun again, for I won’t do it!”
“All right.”
“And while we’ve been rowing, that blamed squaw is getting away. She’ll
carry the alarm to the other Indians as sure as shooting!”
“She won’t!” returned the scout, with confidence. “Ride on with your
men, Dick. Cut your way through that gang of reds to the gates of the
fort if necessary. Off with you! Leave the girl to me!”
With a wave of his hand he clapped spurs to Chief, and pulled sharply
on his rein. The girl had almost reached the mouth of the cañon when
Cody started in direct pursuit.