A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
The Cheyenne Indians under the command of Lieutenant Carey had come to
almost idolize their captain.
They knew his record as a border boy, when he had roamed the country
fearlessly in company with the old hermit of the Black Hills, his
adopted father, and afterward alone, as a young guide and hunter.
They knew him as a soldier later on, and now that he had them under
his command they felt that his word was law, and they could follow him
unflinchingly wherever he would lead them.
His manner toward them was gentle, yet firm.
He treated them as human beings, not as machines, and gave them the
best of food and clothing.
He allowed no man to be forced to ride an inferior horse, or carry a
weapon that was not the best, and with each half-dozen redskin soldiers
went a pack animal, carrying supplies, blankets, and all to make them
comfortable.
Not a thing would he ask of them that he would not do himself, and he
was ready to face any danger that they did, and more.
His bearing commanded their respect, his indomitable pluck won their
admiration, and his skill as a trailer and fighter made him their idol.
Such were the redskin soldiers under Kit Carey, and he knew that he
could depend upon them to a man, and to the death.
Had they had a different captain the result would have been so far
different that most of them might have been there in the hostile camp.
It is the perfect officer that makes the perfect soldier, and this is
the rule without exception.
A soldier likes thorough discipline and a strict commander, if his
comfort is looked to and his heart and spirit appealed to.
The courier who had been sent to the Bernard ranch had handed over
the letter of the settler, as though that one was all that he was the
bearer of.
Then, when he had seen his captain read it through, he had quietly
dragged out another letter.
That of Vance Bernard was written in a bold, masculine hand, showing
the writer to be a man of education.
The second letter was addressed in a refined feminine hand, and it was
sealed with wax.
"Where did you get this, Owl Eyes?" asked the officer, in some
surprise, referring to the second letter.
"Snow Flower see Owl Eyes, and tell him wait at creek. Snow Flower come
to creek, and give that to Owl Eyes."
"Ah! I see," and Kit Carey proceeded to read the missive from Snow
Flower, as Jennie Bernard was known far and wide among the redskins,
Cheyennes, Sioux, and all who passed her father's house, where an
Indian was always a welcome guest, far more so it seemed, than a
pale-face.
The letter was dated at "Bernard ranch," and was as follows:
"MY DEAR LIEUTENANT CAREY.--Taking advantage of your courier coming
to the ranch, with another warning for us to depart, I write to tell
you that strange things have happened here since your departure, and
I am in the greatest distress, as well as a quandary, as to what to
do. I can say no more now. But I am going to seek your advice as one I
know I can trust, and rely upon as a friend. Will you come to the spot
where you saw me with Red Hatchet, day after to-morrow, at noon, and I
will meet you there. If you cannot be there yourself please have one
of your Indian couriers there to conduct me to your camp, for I must
see you, and delays are dangerous.
"Sincerely yours,
"JENNIE."
"Well, what does this mean?" exclaimed the officer, when he had read
the letter.
"'My dear Lieutenant Carey,' it begins, and signed simply 'Jennie.'
Well, she's a dangerous-eyed little beauty, and were I not already
mortgaged to Violet, I fear her bright eyes would pierce my breast
farther than any Indian bullet has done thus far. Bah! I must not be so
conceited and let my vanity run away with me, simply because a pretty
girl has written me a note urging to see me, doubtless to get me to
make another effort to influence that mule of a father of hers to go
away from danger. Well, I shall be there at the rendezvous, and it is a
coincidence that I am here now in this camp, with all the men I could
spare, to stand between her and danger. What if those redskins we saw
on the march last night should circle around and strike the Bernard
ranch. Yet hardly, for they would have come direct, along the trail
we are now camped on. I cannot account for Bernard's strange conduct
in not leaving his home. It was infatuation with him, the idea that
the Sioux will not harm him or his. But I must seek rest now, as I am
nearly dead for sleep," and in five minutes more the young officer was
sleeping the sleep of a man with a conscience wholly at ease.
The two Cheyenne sentinels perched up among the pines upon the rocks
were watching the country lying between them and the Bad Lands.
That there was a foe to come from their rear they had no thought, for
in that direction lay the homes of settlers, the land of civilization.
Then, too, they could not see but a few hundred yards over the broken
country in the rear of their camp, while for miles the eye stretched
away in the direction of the retreat of the hostiles.
And suddenly from the rear came the rapid clatter of hoofs, and before
the sentinels could hardly have time to signal down to their comrades
in the ravine, a party of Sioux horsemen swept by like the wind,
heading for the retreat of the hostiles.
It was the same band that Lieutenant Carey had seen the night before,
and the chief was now discovered to be Red Hatchet, while riding by his
side, a captive, was Jennie Bernard.