Bright Sun's Good-by
Dick and Albert had not gone far before they saw lights on the
bluffs of the Little Big Horn. Dick had uncommonly keen eyes,
and when he saw a figure pass between him and the firelight he
was confident that it was not that of a Sioux. The clothing was
too much like a trooper's.
"Stop, Al," he said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"I believe some of our soldiers are here."
The two crept as near as they dared and watched until they saw
another figure pause momentarily against the background of the
firelight.
"It's a trooper, sure," said Dick, "and we've come to our own
people at last. Come, Al, we'll join them."
They started forward on a run. There was a flash of flame, a
report, and a bullet whistled between them.
"We're friends, not Sioux!" shouted Dick. "We're escaping from
the savages! Don't fire!"
They ran forward again, coming boldly into the light, and no more
shots were fired at them. They ran up the slope to the crest of
the bluff, leaped over a fresh earthwork, and fell among a crowd
of soldiers in blue. Dick quickly raised himself to his feet,
and saw soldiers about him, many of them wounded, all of them
weary and drawn. Others were hard at work with pick and spade,
and from a distant point of the earthwork came the sharp report
of rifle shots.
These were the first white men that Dick and Albert had seen in
nearly two years, and their hearts rose in their throats.
"Who are you?" asked a lieutenant, holding up a lantern and
looking curiously at the two bare-headed, brown, and half-wild
youths who stood before him in their rough attire of tanned
skins. They might readily have passed in the darkness for young
Sioux warriors.
"I am Dick Howard," replied Dick, standing up as straight as his
weakness would let him, "and this is my brother Albert. We were
with an emigrant trail, all the rest of which was massacred two
years ago by the Sioux. Since then we have been in the
mountains, hunting and trapping."
The lieutenant looked at him suspiciously. Dick still stood
erect and returned his gaze, but Albert, overpowered by fatigue,
was leaning against the earthwork. A half dozen soldiers stood
near, watching them curiously. From the woods toward the river
came the sound of more rifle shots.
"Where have you come from to-night? And how?" asked the
lieutenant sharply.
"We escaped from the Sioux village," replied Dick. "I was in one
part of it and my brother in another. We met by chance or luck
in the night, but in the afternoon I saw all the battle in which
the army was destroyed."
"Army destroyed! What do you mean?" exclaimed the officer.
"We were repulsed, but we are here. We are not destroyed."
The suspicion in his look deepened, but Dick met him with
unwavering eye.
"It was on the other side of the town," he replied. "Another
army was there. It was surrounded by thousands of Sioux, but it
perished to the last man. I saw them gallop into the valley, led
by a general with long yellow hair."
"Custer!" exclaimed some one, and a deep groan came from the
men in the dusk.
"What nonsense is this!" exclaimed the officer. "Do you dare
tell me that Custer and his entire command have perished?"
Dick felt his resentment rising.
"I tell you only the truth," he said. "There was a great battle,
and our troops, led by a general with long yellow hair, perished
utterly. The last one of them is dead. I saw it all with my own
eyes."
Again that deep groan came from the men in the dusk.
"I can't believe it!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "Custer and
whole force dead! Where were you? How did you see all this?"
"The Sioux had tied me to a tree in order that the Indian boys
might amuse themselves by grazing me with arrows--my brother and
I had been captured when we were on the plains--but they were
interrupted by the appearance of troops in the valley. Then the
battle began. It lasted a long time, and I was forgotten. About
twilight I managed to break loose, and I escaped by hiding in the
undergrowth. My brother, who was on the other side of town,
escaped in much the same way."
"Sounds improbable, very improbable!" muttered the lieutenant.
Suddenly an old sergeant, who had been standing near, listening
attentively, exclaimed:
"Look at the boy's wrists, lieutenant! They've got just the
marks than an Indian rawhide would make!"
Dick impulsively held up his wrists, from which the bandages had
fallen without his notice. A deep red ring encircled each, and
it was obvious from their faces that others believed, even if the
lieutenant did not. But he, too, dropped at least a part of his
disbelief.
"I cannot deny your story of being captives among the Sioux," he
said, "because you are white and the look of your eyes is honest.
But you must be mistaken about Custer. They cannot all have
fallen; it was your excitement that made you think it."
Dick did not insist. He was the bearer of bad news, but he would
not seek to make others believe it if they did not wish to do
so. The dreadful confirmation would come soon enough.
"Take them away, Williams," said the lieutenant to the sergeant,
"and give them food and drink. They look as if they needed it."
The sergeant was kindly, and he asked Dick and Albert many
questions as he led them to a point farther back on the bluff
beyond the rifle shots of the Sioux, who were now firing heavily
in the darkness upon Reno's command, the troops driven off from
the far side of the town, and the commands of Benteen and
McDougall, which had formed a junction with Reno. It was evident
that he believed all Dick told him, and his eyes became heavy
with sorrow.
"Poor lads!" he murmured. "And so many of them gone!"
He took them to a fire, and here both of them collapsed
completely. But with stimulants, good food, and water they
recovered in an hour, and then Dick was asked to tell again what
he had seen to the chief officers. They listened attentively,
but Dick knew that they, too, went away incredulous.
Throughout the talk Dick and Albert heard the sound of pick and
spade as the men continued to throw up the earthworks, and there
was an incessant patter of rifle fire as the Sioux crept forward
in the darkness, firing from every tree, or rock, or hillock, and
keeping up a frightful yelling, half of menace and half of
triumph. But their bullets whistled mostly overhead, and once,
when they made a great rush, they were quickly driven back with
great loss. Troops on a bluff behind earthworks were a hard nut
even for an overwhelming force to crack.
Dick and Albert fell asleep on the ground from sheer exhaustion,
but Dick did not sleep long. He was awakened by a fresh burst of
firing, and saw that it was still dark. He did not sleep again
that night, although Albert failed to awake, and, asking for a
rifle, bore a part in the defense.
The troops, having made a forced march with scant supplies,
suffered greatly from thirst, but volunteers, taking buckets,
slipped down to the river, at the imminent risk of torture and
death, and brought them back filled for their comrades. It was
done more than a dozen times, and Dick himself was one of the
heroes, which pleased Sergeant Williams greatly.
"You're the right stuff, my boy," he said, clapping him on the
shoulder, "though you ought to be asleep and resting."
"I couldn't sleep long," replied Dick. "I think my nerves have
been upset so much that I won't feel just right again for
months."
Nevertheless he bore a valiant part in the defense, besides
risking his life to obtain the water, and won high praise from
many besides his stanch friend, Sergeant Williams. It was well
that the troops had thrown up the earthwork, as the Sioux,
flushed with their great victory in the afternoon, hung on the
flanks of the bluffs and kept up a continuous rifle fire. There
was light enough for sharpshooting, and more than one soldier who
incautiously raised his head above the earthwork was slain.
Toward morning the Sioux made another great rush. There had
been a lull in the firing just when the night was darker than
usual and many little black clouds were floating up from the
southwest. Dick was oppressed by the silence. He remembered
the phases of the battle in the afternoon, and he felt that it
portended some great effort by the Sioux. He peeped carefully
over the earthwork and studied the trees, bushes, and hillocks
below. He saw nothing there, but it seemed to him that he could
actually feel the presence of the Sioux.
"Look out for 'em," he said to Sergeant Williams. "I think
they're going to make a rush."
"I think it, too," replied the veteran. "I've learnt something
of their cunnin' since I've been out here on the plains."
Five minutes later the Sioux sprang from their ambush and rushed
forward, hoping to surprise enemies who had grown careless. But
they were met by a withering fire that drove them headlong to
cover again. Nevertheless they kept up the siege throughout all
the following day and night, firing incessantly from ambush, and
at times giving forth whoops full of taunt and menace. Dick was
able to sleep a little during the day, and gradually his nerves
became more steady. Albert also took a part in the defense, and,
like Dick, he won many friends.
The day was a long and heavy one. The fortified camp was filled
with the gloomiest apprehensions. The officers still refused to
believe all of Dick's story, that Custer and every man of his
command had perished at the hands of the Sioux. They were yet
hopeful that his eyes had deceived him, a thing which could
happen amid so much fire, and smoke, and excitement, and that
only a part of Custer's force had fallen. Yet neither Custer nor
any of his men returned; there was no sign of them anywhere, and
below the bluffs the Sioux gave forth taunting shouts and
flaunted terrible trophies.
Dick and Albert sat together about twilight before one of the
camp fires, and Dick's face showed that he shared the gloom of
those around him.
"What are you expecting, Dick?" asked Albert, who read his
countenance.
"Nothing in particular," replied Dick; "but I'm hoping that help
will come soon. I've heard from the men that General Gibbon is
out on the plain with a strong force, and we need him bad. We're
short of both water and food, and we'll soon be short of
ammunition. Custer fell, I think, because his ammunition gave
out, and if ours gives out the same thing will happen to us.
It's no use trying to conceal it."
"Then we'll pray for Gibbon," said Albert.
The second night passed like the first, to the accompaniment of
shouts and shots, the incessant sharpshooting of the Sioux, and
an occasional rush that was always driven back. But it was
terribly exhausting. The men were growing irritable and nervous
under such a siege, and the anxiety in the camp increased.
Dick, after a good sleep, was up early on the morning of the
second day, and, like others, he looked out over the plain in the
hope that he might see Gibbon coming. He looked all around the
circle of the horizon and saw only distant lodges in the valley
and Sioux warriors. But Dick had uncommonly good ears, trained
further by two years of wild life, and he heard something, a new
note in the common life of the morning. He listened with the
utmost attention, and heard it again. He had heard the same
sound on the terrible day when Custer galloped into the
valley--the mellow, pealing note of a trumpet, but now very
faint and far.
"They're coming!" he said to Sergeant Williams joyfully. "I hear
the sound of a trumpet out on the plain!"
"I don't," said the sergeant. "It's your hopes that are
deceivin' you. No, by Jove, I think I do hear it! Yes, there it
is! They're comin'! They're comin'!"
The whole camp burst into a joyous cheer, and although they did
not hear the trumpet again for some time, the belief that help
was at hand became a certainty when they saw hurried movements
among the Sioux in the valley and the sudden upspringing of
flames at many points.
"They're goin' to retreat," said the veteran Sergeant Williams,
"an' they're burnin' their village behind 'em."
A little later the army of Gibbon, with infantry and artillery,
showed over the plain, and was welcomed with cheers that came
from the heart. Uniting with the commands on the fortified
bluff, Gibbon now had a powerful force, and he advanced
cautiously into the valley of the Little Big Horn and directly
upon the Indian village. But the Sioux were gone northward,
taking with them their arms, ammunition, and all movable
equipment, and the lodges that they left behind were burning.
Dick led the force to the field of battle, and all his terrible
story was confirmed. There were hundreds of brave men, Custer
and every one of his officers among them, lay, most of them
mutilated, but all with their backs to the earth.
The army spent the day burying the dead, and then began the
pursuit of the Sioux. Dick and Albert went with them, fighting
as scouts and skirmishers. They were willing, for the present,
to let their furs remain hidden in their lost valley until they
could gain a more definite idea of its location, and until the
dangerous Sioux were driven far to the northward.
As the armies grew larger the Sioux forces, despite the skill and
courage of their leaders, were continually beaten. Their great
victory on the Little Big Horn availed them nothing. It became
evident that the last of the chiefs--and to Dick and Albert this
was Bright Sun--had made the last stand for his race, and had
failed.
"They were doomed the day the first white man landed in America,"
said Dick to Albert, "and nothing could save them."
"I suppose it's so," said Albert; "but I feel sorry for Bright
Sun, all the same."
"So do I," said Dick.
The Sioux were finally crowded against the Canadian line, and
Sitting Bull and most of the warriors fled across it for safety.
But just before the crossing Dick and Albert bore a gallant part
in a severe skirmish that began before daylight. A small Sioux
band, fighting in a forest with great courage and tenacity, was
gradually driven back by dismounted white troopers. Dick, a
skirmisher on the right flank, became separated from his comrades
during the fighting. He was aware that the Sioux had been
defeated, but, like the others, he followed in eager pursuit,
wishing to drive the blow home.
Dick lost sight of both troopers and Sioux, but he became aware
of a figure in the undergrowth ahead of him, and he stalked it.
The warrior, for such he was sure the man to be, was unable to
continue his flight without entering an open space where he would
be exposed to Dick's bullet, and he stayed to meet his
antagonist.
There was much delicate maneuvering of the kind that must occur
when lives are known to be at stake, but at last the two came
within reach of each other. The Sioux fired first and missed,
and then Dick held his enemy at the muzzle of his rifle. He was
about to fire in his turn, when he saw that it was Bright Sun.
The chief, worn and depressed, recognized Dick at the same
moment.
"Fire," he said. "I have lost and I might as well die by your
hand as another."
Dick lowered his weapon.
"I can't do it, Bright Sun," he said. "My brother and I owe you
our lives, and I've got to give you yours. Good-by."
"But I am an Indian," said Bright Sun. "I will never surrender
to your people."
"It is for you to say," replied Dick.
Bright Sun waved his hand in a grave and sad farewell salute and
went northward. Dick heard from a trapper some time later of a
small band of Sioux Indians far up near the Great Slave Lake, led
by a chief of uncommon qualities. He was sure, from the
description of this chief given by the trapper, that it was
Bright Sun.
Their part in the war ended, Dick and Albert took for their pay a
number of captured Indian ponies, and turning southward found the
old trail of the train that had been slaughtered. Then, with the
ponies, they entered their beloved valley again.
No one had come in their absence. Castle Howard, the Annex, the
Suburban Villa, the Cliff House and all their treasures were
undisturbed. They carried their furs to Helena, in Montana,
where the entire lot was sold for thirty-two thousand dollars--a
great sum for two youths.
"Now what shall we do?" said Albert when the money was paid to
them.
"I vote we buy United States Government bonds," replied Dick,
"register 'em in our names, and go back to the valley to hunt and
trap. Of course people will find it after a while, but we may
get another lot of the furs before anyone comes."
"Just what I'd have proposed myself," said Albert.
They started the next day on their ponies, with the pack ponies
following, and reached their destination in due time. It was
just about sunset when they descended the last slope and once
more beheld their valley, stretching before them in all its
beauty and splendor, still untrodden by any human footsteps save
their own.
"What a fine place!" exclaimed Albert.
"The finest in the world!" said Dick.
The End
End of Project Gutenberg's The Last of the Chiefs, by Joseph Altsheler