A CLOSE CALL.
The discovery of the file of Indian horsemen by Kit Carey and his two
Cheyenne scouts, at once put an end to the intention of the officer of
boldly entering the camps of the hostiles.
To dismount and grasp the noses of their horses, to prevent their
neighing, and stand as motionless as the rocks about them, was the
work of a second, and the lieutenant and his two Cheyenne soldiers in
the gloom of the night, though in full sight of the passing horsemen
appeared like the rocks about them.
There was no retreat behind them, for the way was impassable, and to go
to the right or left, up or down the ridge, meant discovery.
They had been fairly caught, and in the worst position for them that
could be found anywhere.
If the Indian horsemen took them in at a glance, as rocks, in the
darkness, and so passed on, all was well; but if discovered then it
must be a fight to the death.
Holding a position for defense at least, and their number not known to
the officer and his redskin soldiers, might, by a hot fire, put the
Sioux to flight, thus giving them an opportunity to get away themselves.
But if not, then they must remain and fight it out right there.
These thoughts passed rapidly through the mind of Kit Carey as he
stood there, grasping the nose of his horse with his left hand, and
holding his repeating rifle, a splendid Evans repeating gun, shooting
thirty-five times.
The Cheyennes were armed with Winchesters, and stood ready, as did
their commander.
Then, too, all three had their revolvers, and the Sioux would think a
whole troop was there should they discover them, and cause them to open
fire.
In spite of the peril of his situation, Lieutenant Carey calmly counted
his foes.
He saw by the feather bonnet, indistinctly seen, that a chief rode in
advance.
Then came the braves in single file until thirty had passed.
Kit Carey gave a sigh of relief as they went by without discovering
them, and said to the Cheyennes:
"A chief and thirty braves. They cannot be very dangerous, or intending
an attack. Some scouting party only, I think."
The Cheyennes thought the same, and then came a consultation as to
which way the Sioux were going, and was it best to follow them, or go
on into the Bad Lands, as the lieutenant had intended.
Kit Carey wished to get the ideas of the scouts, for he knew that they
were well worthy of consideration, and the result was that he decided
to send one of the Indian soldiers upon the trail of the party of
Sioux, and the other ahead by a flank movement, to the command of the
general toward whom they were making their way.
As for himself, he would go on his rounds to his sentinel camps, for
that only a band of thirty Sioux were leaving the Bad Lands did not
disturb him.
Had there been several hundred warriors moving toward the commands, or
the settlements, the officer would have at once suspected an ambush, an
attack, or a raid.
So the Cheyennes went on the trail, one to follow the Sioux, the other
to head them off, and as soon as their situation was learned to ride
with full speed for the nearest military force, and report to the
commander the discovery, as one of Kit Carey's couriers.
The lieutenant had by no means given up his intention of entering the
Bad Lands himself.
But it must be done by night, and in his disguise as a Sioux chief.
He would not dare be seen by day in the Bad Lands, no matter how
thorough his disguise might be, for well he knew that some keen eyes
would recognize him among the Indians.
So he would go to the camps of his Cheyennes, let all know of the
battle of Wounded Knee Creek, and dispatch his couriers to put each
command on the alert, against other Indians making for the Bad Lands,
or a force of warriors riding out to make a sudden dash.
So, through the night, he held on his way, circling around the
hostiles' retreat, and visiting one after the other of his posts.
The sun was well up when he reached the last position, the camp nearest
to the Bernard ranch.
He had there now fourteen men, and the very pick of his Cheyenne scouts.
They were encamped in a ravine, which a whole tribe on the march might
pass near and never suspect the existence of.
It was a basin among the rocks, with a ravine for an exit and entrance.
Water and grass were there, and from the rocks above a commanding view
could be obtained of the country in the direction of the hostiles'
camp, and here were kept two sentinels, hidden from view themselves,
yet able to see any one approaching from the Bad Lands.
The Indian sentinels saw the approach of their commander, and signaled
it to their comrades in the basin.
At last he arrived, utterly worn out, and determined that as soon as he
had had some breakfast he would throw himself upon his blankets to get
what rest he could.
His scouts had seen nothing of the hostiles, and no party of Sioux
making for the Bad Lands had passed within sight.
His courier had returned from the Bernard ranch, and brought him a
note, which read as follows:
"LIEUTENANT CAREY:
"DEAR SIR.--Thanking you for your second warning by letter, I beg to
say that I shall not leave my ranch, as I can see no reason for so
doing, as I regard the Sioux as my friends, in spite of the war of the
army upon them.
"Respectfully,
"VANCE BERNARD."
"Stubborn fool!" ejaculated the officer, while the courier drew from
some secret receptacle about his clothing another note and handed it to
his commander.