A DAUGHTER OF THE SIOUX

 [Illustration: RAY'S TROOP. ]

 _A Tale of the Indian Frontier_

 BY GENERAL CHARLES KING

 AUTHOR OF "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER, " "FORT FRAYNE, " "AN ARMY WIFE, " ETC. , ETC. 

 "He is bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. " _King Henry V. _

 ILLUSTRATIONS BY FREDERIC REMINGTON _and_ EDWIN WILLARD DEMING

 NEW YORK THE HOBART COMPANY 1903

 COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE HOBART COMPANY. 

_A Daughter of the Sioux_ _Published March 15, 1903_

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. 

FORESHADOWED EVENTS, CHAPTER II. 

ABSENT FROM DUTY, CHAPTER III. 

A NIGHT ENCOUNTER, CHAPTER IV. 

THE SIGN OF THE BAR SHOE, CHAPTER V. 

A GRAVE DISCOVERY, CHAPTER VI. 

FIRST SIGHT OF THE FOE, CHAPTER VII. 

BLOOD WILL TELL, CHAPTER VIII. 

MORE STRANGE DISCOVERIES, CHAPTER IX. 

BAD NEWS FROM THE FRONT, CHAPTER X. 

"I'LL NEVER GO BACK, "

CHAPTER XI. 

A FIGHT WITH A FURY, CHAPTER XII. 

THE ORDEAL BY FIRE, CHAPTER XIII. 

WOUNDED--BODY AND SOUL, CHAPTER XIV. 

A VANISHED HEROINE, CHAPTER XV. 

A WOMAN'S PLOT, CHAPTER XVI. 

NIGHT PROWLING AT FRAYNE, CHAPTER XVII. 

A RIFLED DESK, CHAPTER XVIII. 

BURGLARY AT BLAKE'S, CHAPTER XIX. 

A SLAP FOR THE MAJOR, CHAPTER XX. 

THE SIOUX SURROUNDED, CHAPTER XXI. 

THANKSGIVING AT FRAYNE, CHAPTER XXII. 

BEHIND THE BARS, CHAPTER XXIII. 

A SOLDIER ENTANGLED, CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE DEATH SONG OF THE SIOUX, _L'ENVOI. _

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ILLUSTRATIONS

FRONTISPIECE

"THE MAJOR SOUGHT TO BLOCK THAT MORNING'S RIDE IN VAIN"

RAY'S TROOP

"THE SOLDIER LEAPED FROM HIS SADDLE"

"WITH ONE MAGNIFICENT RED ARM UPLIFTED"

"SOME FEW OF THEIR NUMBER BORNE AWAY BY THEIR COMRADES"

"CHARGE WITH ME THE MOMENT THE LEADERS YELL"

"HUSH! SHE'S COMING"--SHE WAS THERE

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 A DAUGHTER OF THE SIOUX

CHAPTER I

FORESHADOWED EVENTS

The major commanding looked up from the morning report and surveyed thepost adjutant with something of perturbation, if not annoyance, in hisgrim, gray eyes. For the fourth time that week had Lieutenant Fieldrequested permission to be absent for several hours. The major knew justwhy the junior wished to go and where. The major knew just why he wishedhim not to go, but saw fit to name almost any other than the real reasonwhen, with a certain awkward hesitancy he began:

"W--ell, is the post return ready?"

"It _will_ be, sir, in abundant time, " was the prompt reply. 

"You know they sent it back for correction last month, " hazarded thecommander. 

"And you know, sir, the error was not mine, " was the instant rejoinder, so quick, sharp and positive as to carry it at a bound to the verge ofdisrespect, and the keen, blue eyes of the young soldier gazed, frankand fearless, into the heavily ambushed grays of the veteran in thechair. It made the latter wince and stir uneasily. 

"If there's one thing I hate, Field, it is to have my papers sent backby some whipsnapper of a clerk, inviting attention to this or thaterror, and I expect my adjutant to see to it that they don't. "

"Your adjutant does see to it, sir. I'm willing to bet a month's payfewer errors have been found in the papers of Fort Frayne than any postin the Department of the Platte. General Williams told you as much whenyou were in Omaha. "

The major fairly wriggled in his cane-bottomed whirligig. What youngField said was true, and the major knew it. He knew, moreover, therewasn't a more painstaking post adjutant from the Missouri to themountains. He knew their monthly reports--"returns" as the regulationscall them--were referred to by a model adjutant general as model papers. He knew it was due to young Field's care and attention, and he knew hethought all the world of that young gentleman. It was just because hethought so much of him he was beginning to feel that it was high time toput a stop to something that was going on. But, it was a delicatematter; a woman was the matter; and he hadn't the moral courage to go atit the straightforward way. He "whip sawed" again. Thrumming on the deskwith his lean, bony fingers he began:--

"If I let my adjutant out so much, what's to prevent other youngstersasking similar indulgence?"

The answer came like the crack of a whip:--

"Nothing, sir; and far better would it be for everybody concerned ifthey spent more hours in the saddle and fewer at the store. "

This was too much for the one listener in the room. With something likethe sound of a suppressed sneeze, a tall, long-legged captain of cavalrystarted up from his chair, an outspread newspaper still full-stretchedbetween him and the desk of the commander, and, thus hidden as to hisface, sidled sniggering off to the nearest window. Young Field hadfearlessly, if not almost impudently, hit the nail on the head, andmetaphorically rapped the thrumming fingers of his superior officer. Some commanders would have raged and sent the daring youngster rightabout in arrest. Major Webb knew just what Field referred to, --knew thatthe fascinations of pool, "pitch" and poker held just about half hiscommissioned force at all "off duty" hours of the day or night hangingabout the officers' club room at the post trader's; knew, moreover, thatwhile the adjutant never wasted a moment over cards or billiards, he, the post commander, had many a time taken a hand or a cue and wageredhis dollars against those of his devoted associates. They all loved him. There wasn't "a mean streak in his whole system, " said every soldier atFort Frayne. He had a capital record as a volunteer--a colonel and, later, brigade commander in the great war. He had the brevet ofbrigadier general of volunteers, but repudiated any title beyond thatof his actual rank in the regulars. He was that _rara avis_--a bachelorfield officer, and a bird to be brought down if feminine witchery coulddo it. He was truthful, generous, high-minded, brave--a man whopreferred to be of and with his subordinates rather than above them--torule through affection and regard rather than the stern standard ofcommand. He was gentle and courteous alike to officers and the rank andfile, though he feared no man on the face of the globe. He was awkward, bungling and overwhelmingly, lavishly, kind and thoughtful in hisdealings with the womenfolk of the garrison, for he stood in awe of theentire sisterhood. He could ride like a centaur; he couldn't dance wortha cent. He could snuff a candle with his Colt at twenty paces andcouldn't hit a croquet ball to save his soul. His deep-set gray eyes, under their tangled thatch of brown, gazed straight into the face ofevery man on the Platte, soldier, cowboy, Indian or halfbreed, but fellabashed if a laundress looked at him. Billy Ray, captain of the sorreltroop and the best light rider in Wyoming, was the only man he everallowed to straddle a beautiful thoroughbred mare he had bought inKentucky, but, bad hands or good, there wasn't a riding woman at Fraynewho hadn't backed Lorna time and again, because to a woman the majorsimply couldn't say no. 

And though his favorite comrades at the post were captains like Blakeand Billy Ray, married men both whose wives he worshipped, the major'srugged heart went out especially to Beverly Field, his boy adjutant, alad who came to them from West Point only three years before the autumnthis story opens, a young fellow full of high health, pluck andprinciple--a tip top soldier, said everybody from the start, until, asGregg and other growlers began to declaim, the major completely spoiledhim. Here, three years only out of military leadingstrings, he was ayoung cock of the walk, "too dam' independent for a second lieutenant, "said the officers' club element of the command, men like Gregg, Wilkins, Crane and a few of their following. "The keenest young trooper in theregiment, " said Blake and Ray, who were among its keenest captains, andnever a cloud had sailed across the serene sky of their friendship andesteem until this glorious September of 188-, when Nanette Flower, abrilliant, beautiful brunette came a visitor to old Fort Frayne. 

And it was on her account the major would, could he have seen the way, said no to the adjutant's request to be absent again. On her account andthat of one other, for that request meant another long morning in saddlewith Miss Flower, another long morning in which "the sweetest girl inthe garrison, " so said they all, would go about her daily duties with anaching heart. There was no woman at Fort Frayne who did not know thatEsther Dade thought all the world of Beverly Field. There was only oneman who apparently had no inkling of it--Beverly Field himself. 

She was the only daughter of a veteran officer, a captain of infantry, who at the age of fifty, after having held a high command in thevolunteers during the civil war, was still meekly doing duty as acompany officer of regulars nearly two decades after. She had beencarefully reared by a most loving and thoughtful mother, even in thecrude old days of the army, when its fighting force was scattered insmall detachments all over the wide frontier, and men, and women, too, lived on soldier rations, eked out with game, and dwelt in tents orramshackle, one-storied huts, "built by the labor of troops. " At twelveshe had been placed at school in the far East, while her father enjoyeda two years' tour on recruiting service, and there, under the care of anoble woman who taught her girls to be women indeed--not vapid votariesof pleasure and fashion, Esther spent five useful years, coming back toher fond father's soldier roof a winsome picture of girlish health andgrace and comeliness--a girl who could ride, walk and run if need be, who could bake and cook, mend and sew, cut, fashion and make her ownsimple wardrobe; who knew algebra, geometry and "trig" quite as well as, and history, geography and grammar far better than, most of the youngWest Pointers; a girl who spoke her own tongue with accuracy and was notbadly versed in French; a girl who performed fairly well on the pianoand guitar, but who sang full-throated, rejoiceful, exulting like thelark--the soulful music that brought delight to her ageing father, halfcrippled by the wounds of the war days, and to the mother who sodevotedly loved and carefully planned for her. Within a month from hergraduation at Madame Piatt's she had become the darling of Fort Frayne, the pet of many a household, the treasure of her own. With other younggallants of the garrison, Beverly Field had been prompt to call, promptto be her escort when dance or drive, ride or picnic was planned in herhonor, especially the ride, for Mr. Adjutant Field loved the saddle, theopen prairie or the bold, undulating bluffs. But Field was the busiestman at the post. Other youngsters, troop or company subalterns, had farmore time at their disposal, and begged for rides and dances, strollsand sports which the post adjutant was generally far too busy to claim. It was Esther who brought lawn tennis to Frayne and found eager pupilsof both sexes, but Field had been the first to meet and welcome her; hadbeen for a brief time at the start her most constant cavalier. Then, asothers began to feel the charm of her frank, cordial, joyous manner, andlearned to read the beauty that beamed in her clear, truthful eyes andwinsome, yet not beautiful face, they became assiduous in turn, --two ofthem almost distressingly so, --and she could not wound them by refusals. Then came a fortnight in which her father sat as a member of acourt-martial down at old Fort Laramie, where were the band, headquarters and four troops of the ----th, and Captain and Mrs. Freeman, who were there stationed, begged that Mrs. Dade and Esthershould come and visit them during the session of the court. There wouldbe all manner of army gaieties and a crowd of outside officers, and, asluck would have it, Mr. Field was ordered thither as a witness in twoimportant cases. The captain and his good wife went by stage; Esther andBeverly rode every inch of the way in saddle, camping over night withtheir joyous little party at La Bontè. Then came a lovely week atLaramie, during which Mr. Field had little to do but devote himself to, and dance with, Esther, and when his final testimony was given and hereturned to his station, and not until then, Esther Dade discovered thatlife had little interest or joy without him; but Field rode backunknowing, and met at Frayne, before Esther Dade's return, a girl whohad come almost unheralded, making the journey over the Medicine Bowfrom Rock Springs on the Union Pacific in the comfortable carriage ofold Bill Hay, the post trader, escorted by that redoubtable woman, Mrs. Bill Hay, and within the week of her arrival Nanette Flower was thetoast of the bachelors' mess, the talk of every household at FortFrayne. 

And well she might be. Dark and lustrous were her eyes; black, luxuriantand lustrous was her hair; dark, rich and lustrous her radiant beauty. In contour her face was well nigh faultless. It might have been calledbeautiful indeed but for the lips, or something about the mouth, that inrepose had not a soft or winsome line, but then it was never apparentlyin repose. Smiles, sunshine, animation, rippling laughter, flashing, even, white teeth--these were what one noted when in talk with MissFlower. There was something actually radiant, almost dazzling, about herface. Her figure, though _petite_, was exquisite, and women marked withkeen appreciation, if not envy, the style and finish of her varied andvarious gowns. Six trunks, said Bill Hay's boss teamster, had beentrundled over the range from Rawlins, not to mention a box containingher little ladyship's beautiful English side-saddle, Melton bridle andother equine impedimenta. Did Miss Flower like to ride? She adored it, and Bill Hay had a bay half thoroughbred that could discount the major'smare 'cross country. All Frayne was out to see her start for her firstride with Beverly Field, and all Frayne reluctantly agreed that sweetEssie Dade could never sit a horse over ditch or hurdle with the superbgrace and unconcern displayed by the daring, dashing girl who had sosuddenly become the centre of garrison interest. For the first time inher life Mrs. Bill Hay knew what it was to hold the undivided attentionof army society, for every woman at Fort Frayne was wild to know allabout the beautiful newcomer, and only one could tell. 

Hay, the trader, had prospered in his long years on the frontier, firstas trader among the Sioux, later as sutler, and finally, when Congressabolished that title, substituting therefore the euphemism, withoutmaterial clog upon the perquisites, as post trader at Fort Frayne. Noone knew how much he was worth, for while apparently a mostopen-hearted, whole-souled fellow, Hay was reticence itself when hisfortunes or his family were matters of question or comment. He had longbeen married, and Mrs. Hay, when at the post, was a socialsphinx, --kind-hearted, charitable, lavish to the soldiers' wives andchildren, and devotion itself to the families of the officers whensickness and trouble came, as come in the old days they too often did. It was she who took poor Ned Robinson's young widow and infant all theway to Cheyenne when the Sioux butchered the luckless little huntingparty down by Laramie Peak. It was she who nursed Captain Forrest's wifeand daughter through ten weeks of typhoid, and, with her own means, sentthem to the seashore, while the husband and father was far up on theYellowstone, cut off from all communication in the big campaign of '76. It was she who built the little chapel and decked and dressed it forEaster and Christmas, despite the fact that she herself had beenbaptized in the Roman Catholic faith. It was she who went at once toevery woman in the garrison whose husband was ordered out on scout orcampaign, proffering aid and comfort, despite the fact long whispered inthe garrisons of the Platte country, that in the old, old days she hadfar more friends among the red men than the white. That could well be, because in those days white men were few and far between. Every one hadheard the story that it was through her the news of the massacre at FortPhil Kearny was made known to the post commander, for she could speakthe dialects of both the Arapahoe and the Sioux, and had the signlanguage of the Plains veritably at her fingers' ends. There were notlacking those who declared that Indian blood ran in her veins--that hermother was an Ogalalla squaw and her father a French Canadian furtrapper, a story to which her raven black hair and brows, her deep, darkeyes and somewhat swarthy complexion gave no little color. But, longyears before, Bill Hay had taken her East, where he had relatives, andwhere she studied under excellent masters, returning to him summer aftersummer with more and more of refinement in manner, and so much of styleand fashion in dress that her annual advent had come to be looked uponas quite the event of the season, even by women of the social positionof Mrs. Ray and Mrs. Blake, the recognized leaders among the youngmatrons of the ----th Cavalry, and by gentle Mrs. Dade, to whom everyone looked up in respect, --almost in reverence. Despite the mysteryabout her antecedents there was every reason why Mrs. Hay should be heldin esteem and affection. Bill Hay himself was a diamond in therough, --square, sturdy, uncompromising, generous and hospitable; hisgreat pride and glory was his wife; his one great sorrow that their onlychild had died almost in infancy. His solecisms in syntax and societywere many. He was given at times to profanity, and at others, whenmadame was away, to draw poker; but officers and men alike proclaimedhim a man of mettle and never hesitated to go to him when in financialstraits, sure of unusurious aid. But, even had this not been the case, the popularity of his betterhalf would have carried him through, forthere was hardly a woman at Frayne to speak of her except in terms ofgenuine respect. Mrs. Hay was truth telling, sympathetic, a peacemaker, a resolute opponent of gossip and scandal of every kind, a woman whominded her own business and was only mildly insistent that others shoulddo likewise. She declined all overtures leading to confidences as to herpast, and demanded recognition only upon the standard of the present, which was unimpeachable. 

All the same it came something like a shock to society at Frayne that, when she appeared at the post this beautiful autumn of 188-, nearlythree months later than the usual time, she should be accompanied bythis brilliant and beautiful girl of whom no one of their number hadpreviously heard, and whom she smilingly, confidently presented as, "Myniece, Miss Flower. "

[Illustration: "THE MAJOR SOUGHT TO BLOCK THAT MORNING'S RIDE IN VAIN. "]

There was a dance the night the Dades got home from Laramie. Nearly allday long had they driven in the open buckboard over the rough, windingroad along the Platte, and Mrs. Dade was far too tired to think ofgoing, but Esther was so eager that her father put aside his preciouspaper, tucked her under his arm and trudged cheerily away across theparade toward the bright lights of the hop room. They had a fairly goodstring orchestra at Frayne that year, and one of Strauss's most witchingwaltzes--"Sounds from the Vienna Woods"--had just been begun as fatherand daughter entered. A dozen people, men and women both, saw them andnoted what followed. With bright, almost dilated, eyes, and a sweet, warm color mantling her smiling face, Esther stood gazing about theroom, nodding blithely as she caught the glance of many a friend, yetobviously searching for still another. Then of a sudden they saw thebonny face light up with joy uncontrollable, for Mr. Field came boundingin at the side door, opening from the veranda of the adjutant's office. He saw her; smiled joyous greeting as he came swiftly toward her;then stopped short as a girl in black grenadine dropped the arm of hercavalier, the officer with whom she was promenading, and without amoment's hesitation, placed her left hand, fan-bearing, close to theshoulder knot on his stalwart right arm, her black-gloved right in hiswhite-kidded left, and instantly they went gliding away together, henodding half in whimsical apology, half in merriment, over the blackspangled shoulder, and the roseate light died slowly from the sweet, smiling face--the smile itself seemed slowly freezing--as the stilldilated eyes followed the graceful movements of the couple, slowly, harmoniously winding and reversing about the waxen floor. Even at thePoint she had never seen more beautiful dancing. Even when her stanchestfriend, Mrs. Blake, pounced upon her with fond, anxious, welcomingwords, and Mrs. Ray, seeing it all, broke from her partner's encirclingarm, and sped to add her greeting, the child could hardly regainself-control, and one loving-hearted woman cried herself to sleep thatnight for the woe that had come into the soft and tender eyes which hadfirst beamed with joy at sight of Beverly Field, then filled with suddendread immeasurable. 

But the major sought to block that morning ride in vain. The impetuouswill of the younger soldier prevailed, as he might have known it would, and from the rear gallery of his quarters, with his strong fieldglass, Major Webb watched the pair fording the Platte far up beyond PyramidButte. "Going over to that damned Sioux village again, " he sworebetween his set teeth. "That makes the third time she's headed him therethis week, " and with strange annoyance at heart he turned away to seekcomfort in council with his stanch henchman, Captain Ray, when theorderly came bounding up the steps with a telegraphic despatch which themajor opened, read, turned a shade grayer and whistled low. 

"My compliments to Captains Blake and Ray, " said he, to the silent youngsoldier, standing attention at the doorstep, "and say I should be gladto see them here at once. "

That night the sentries had just called off half past one when there wassome commotion at the guard-house. A courier had ridden in post hastefrom the outlying station of Fort Beecher, far up under the lee of theBig Horn range. The corporal of the guard took charge of his reekinghorse, while the sergeant led the messenger to the commander's quarters. The major was already awake and half dressed. "Call the adjutant, " wasall he said, on reading the despatch, and the sergeant sped away. Inless than five minutes he was back. 

"I could get no answer to my knock or ring, sir, so I searched thehouse. The adjutant isn't there!"

CHAPTER II

ABSENT FROM DUTY

For a moment the major stood in silence; then, briefly saying, "CallCaptain Ray, " turned again to the dimly lighted hallway of hiscommodious quarters, (the women thought it such a shame there should beno "lady of the house" for the largest and finest of the long line knownas "Officers' Row") while the sergeant of the guard scurried away to thesoldier home of the senior cavalry captain on duty at the post. When themajor again came forth his field glasses were in his hand and he hadhurried down the steps and out into the broad sheen of the moonlightwhen he caught sight of the courier seated on the horseblock at thegate, wearily leaning his head upon his gauntleted hand. Webb stoppedshort:

"Come right in here, my lad, " he cried, "I want to speak with you, " and, followed slowly by the soldier, he entered his parlor, and whirled aneasy chair in front of the open fireplace. "Sit right down there now, and I'll be with you in a minute, " he added; bustled into the rear roomand presently reappeared with a decanter and glass; poured out a stifftot of Monongahela; "A little water?" he asked, as the trooper's eyebrightened gratefully. A little water was added and off came the righthand gauntlet. "I drink the major's health and long life to him, " saidthe soldier, gulping down the fluid without so much as a wink. Then, true to his training, set down the glass and stood strictly atattention. 

"You've had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, I'll be bound, " saidWebb. "Now, I've got to see some of my officers at once. You makeyourself at home here. You'll find cold beef, bread, cheese, pickles, milk, if you care for it, and pie right there in the pantry. Take thelamp in with you and help yourself. If you want another nip, there's thedecanter. You've made splendid time. Did you meet no Indians?"

"Not one, sir, but I saw smokes at sunset out toward Eagle Butte. "

"Your name--I see you belong to Captain Truscott's troop. "

"Kennedy, sir; and I thank the major. "

"Then I'll leave you in charge until you've had your fill, " said thecommander. "Then go over to 'F' Troop's quarters and get a bed. Tellanybody who comes I've gone to the flagstaff. " With that the majorstalked from the room, followed by the Irishman's adoring eyes. A momentlater he stood by the tall white staff at the edge of the northwardbluff, at whose feet the river swept by in musical murmurings. There hequickly focussed his glass, and gazed away westward up the Platte towhere but the evening before a score of Indian lodges dotted the otherbank, perhaps two miles away. The September moon was at its full and, inthat rare, cloudless atmosphere, flooding the valley with its soft, silvery light so that close at hand, within the limits of the garrison, every object could be almost as distinctly seen as in broad day-light, but, farther away, over the lowlands and the river bottom and therolling prairie stretching to the northern horizon, the cottonwoodsalong the stream or in the distant swales made only black blotchesagainst the vague, colorless surface, and the bold bluffs beyond thereservation limits south of the flashing waters, the sharp, sawlike edgeof the distant mountain range that barred the way to the west, even thecleancut outlines of Eagle Butte, the landmark of the northward prairie, visible for fifty miles by day, were now all veiled in some intangiblefilament that screened them from the soldier's searching gaze. Later inthe season, on such a night, their crests would gleam with radiancealmost intolerable, the glistening sheen of their spotless crown ofsnow. All over this broad expanse of upland prairie and wooded river bedand boldly undulating bluff line not so much as a spark of fire peepedthrough the wing of night to tell the presence of human wayfarer, white, halfbreed or Indian, even where the Sioux had swarmed, perhaps twohundred strong, at sunset of the day gone by. 

Close at hand, northernmost of the brown line, was the double set ofquarters occupied by Captains Blake and Ray, the latter, as senior, having chosen the half nearest the bluff because of the encirclingveranda and the fine, far-extending view. A bright light gleamed nowbehind the blinds of the corner room of the second floor, telling thatthe captain was up and dressing in answer to the commander's summons, but all the rest of the dozen houses were black, save where at themiddle of the row a faint glow came from the open doorway at thecommanding officer's. Across the broad level of the parade were thelong, low barracks of the troops, six in number, gable-ending east andwest. Closing the quadrangle on the south were the headquartersbuildings and the assembly room, the offices of the adjutant andquartermaster, the commissary and quartermaster's storehouses, etc. Atthe southwest angle stood the guard-house, where oil lamps, backed bytheir reflectors of polished tin, sent brilliant beams of light athwartthe roadway. Beyond these low buildings the black bulk of the MedicineBow Mountains, only a dozen miles away, tumbled confusedly against thesparkling sky. All spoke of peace, security, repose, for even in theflats under the westward bluff, where lay the wide extended corrals, hayand wood yards and the stables, not one of the myriad dogs that hungabout the post was lifting up his voice to bay the autumn moon. Eventhose easily-started night trumpeters, the big Missouri mules, sprawledabout their roomy, sand-floored stables and drowsed in placid comfort, wearied with their musical efforts of the earlier hours of the night andgathering impetus for the sonorous braying with which they shouldpresently salute the dawn. 

Beyond the guard-house, at the edge of the plateau overlooking thewestward flats, but invisible from the flagstaff bluff, stood the bigwooden edifice known as the store, with its card and billiard room forthe officers on the southern side, another for the enlisted men upon thenorthern, the bar and general merchandise establishment compressedbetween them. Southward, farther still, surrounded by crude greenhousesabounding in potted plants and beds of vine and vegetables, was the bigand somewhat pretentious house of the post trader himself, his ownstables and corral being half way down the slope and well away fromthose of the garrison. "Out of sight, " muttered Webb, "but by no meansout of mind, " for it was safe to say the thoughts of more than half themen and women making up the social element of Fort Frayne had beencentering within the last few days beneath the roof that gave shelter tothat brilliant, fascinating beauty Nanette Flower. 

Ten days a denizen of the fort, it seemed as though she had been thereas many weeks, so completely had she accepted the situation andpossessed herself of the ins and outs of garrison life. The women hadcalled, of course, and gone away filled with unwilling admiration, forthe girl's gowns and graces were undeniable. The married men, as was thearmy way, had called with their wives on the occasion of the firstvisit. The bachelors, from Webb down to the junior subaltern, had calledin little squads at first; afterwards, except the major, they sought tosee Miss Flower when other fellows were not present. Even Hartley andDonovan, the two whose devotions to Esther Dade had been carried to theverge of oppression, and who were on terms of distant civility only whencompelled to appear together in the presence of women or their othersuperiors, had been moved to more than one visit at the Hays', butHartley speedily returned to his undesired siege at the quarters ofCaptain Dade, while Donovan joined forces with two other youngsters, Bruce and Putney, because it gave them comfort to bother Field; who, being the adjutant, and a very busy man, could visit only at certainhours of the day or evening. Now, it had become apparent to the boysthat despite her general attitude of cordiality their attentions werenot what Mrs. Hay so much desired as those of the major commanding. Twice had he been invited to dine within the week of Nanette's coming. Once he accepted. The second time he begged off on plea of a previousengagement, subsequently made, to go shooting with Blake. It was thebachelor heart and home of Major Webb to which Mrs. Hay would have laidvicarious siege, small blame to her, for that indomitablecross-examiner, Mrs. Wilkins, wife and manager of the veteran ranker nowserving as post quartermaster, had wormed out of Mrs. Hay the admissionthat Nanette had no fortune. She was the only daughter of a halfbrother, very dear to Mrs. Hay, whom she had lost, she said, long yearsbefore. To do her justice, it was quite apparent that Miss Flower was noparty to the plan, for, though she beamed on Webb as she did on all, shefrankly showed her preference for the younger officers who could danceas well as ride, and either dancing or riding was her glory. She dancedlike a sylph; she seemed to float about the room as though on air; sherode superbly, and shirked no leap that even Ray and Field took withlowered hands and close gripping knees. She was joyous, laughing, radiant with all the officers, and fairly glowed with cordiality for allthe women. But it speedily developed that she would rather dance withField than any of the others, probably because he was by far the bestwaltzer, and to ride with him, because, Ray excepted, there was none toexcel him in the saddle. Ten days had she been at Frayne and within thattime had become as thoroughly at ease and home as though it had been herabiding place since babyhood. It was plain to see that big Bill Hayalmost worshipped this lovely _protegée_ of the wife he more thanworshipped. It was plain to see that Webb uneasily held aloof, as thoughfearful of singeing his shrivelling wings. It was plain to see that thehitherto indomitable Mrs. Wilkins was puzzled. It was not so plain tosee that there were two women at the post on whom Miss Flower's charmsmade slight impression--Mesdames Blake and Ray--two wise young matronswho were known to have few secrets from each other and no intimacies--orrather no confidences--with any other woman at Fort Frayne--Mrs. Dadepossibly excepted. 

But what they thought, their liege lords stood ready to swear to; and itwas to them Webb turned in his perplexity when it became apparent thathis young adjutant was ensnared. It was to Ray he promptly opened hisheart, as that veteran of a dozen Indian campaigns, then drawing hisfourth "fogy, " came hastening out to join the commander. 

"Here's confirmation of the telegram. Read that, Ray, " said Webb, handing him the despatch from Fort Beecher. "Then come with me toField's. He's missing. "

"Missing!" cried Ray, in consternation, as he hurriedly opened the page. "In God's name what do you mean?"

"I mean he isn't in quarters and hasn't been in bed to-night. Now I needhim--and it's two o'clock. "

Even as he spoke the voice of the sentry at the guard-house rang out thewatch call through the still and sparkling night. It was taken up byNumber Two back of the storehouses, and his "All's well" was stillechoing among the foothills, prolonged and powerful, when Number Three, down at the quartermaster's corral, began his soldier song; and so, alert, cheery, reassuring, the sentries sent their deep-voiced assuranceon its unbroken round to the waking guardian at the southwest angle, andas his final "A-a-a-ll's W-e-ell" went rolling away over bluff andstream and prairie, Ray lifted a grave and anxious face from the fatefulpaper. 

"Lame Wolf out? That's bad in itself! He's old Red Cloud's nephew and abrute at best. Stabber's people there yet?" he suddenly asked, whirlingon his heel and gazing westward. 

"Can't make out even with my glasses. All dark as pitch among thecottonwoods, but Kennedy, who made the ride, says he saw smokes back ofEagle Butte just before sunset. "

"Then you can bet they won't be there at dawn--the warriors at least. Ofcourse the women, the kids and old men will stay if only for a blind. Hehad forty fighting men, and Wolf's got at least two hundred. Whatstarted the row?"

"The arrest of those two young bucks on charge of killing Finn, thesheep herder, on the Piney last week. I don't believe the Sioux beganit. There's a bad lot among those damned rustlers, " said Webb, snappingthe glass into its well-worn case. "But no matter who starts, we have tofinish it. Old Plodder is worried and wants help. Reckon I'll have tosend you, Ray. "

"Ready whenever you say, sir, " was the prompt and soldierly reply. Evenmarriage had not taken the edge from Ray's keen zest for campaigning. "Shall I have out my sergeant and cooks at once? We'll need to takerations. "

"Yes, but wait with me till I wire the chief at Laramie. Come to theoffice. " So saying the post commander turned and strode away. Thecaptain glanced at the upper window where the light now dimly burned, but blind and window were open, and a woman's form appeared. 

"It's all right, Maidie, " called the captain, softly. "May have to startout on scout at daybreak. That's all. Home soon, " and with a reassuringwave of the hand, turned again to his stanch friend and commander. 

"I hate to send you--again, " said Webb. "You were out in June, and theothers have had only short scouts since--"

"Don't bother. What's a cavalryman for? Shall we?--I--can't believeit--some how, " and Ray stopped, glanced inquiringly at the major, andthen nodded toward the doorway of the third house on the row. The groundfloor was occupied by Field as his quarters, the up-stair rooms byPutney and Ross. 

"Come in, " said the major, briefly, and, pushing through the gate theysoftly entered the dark hallway and struck a light in the front room. Awood fire was smouldering on the andirons in the wide brick chimneyplace. An open book, face downward, was on the centre table. Twoembroidered slippers lay as though hurriedly kicked off, one under thesofa beyond the mantelpiece, the other half way across the worn carpet. Striking another match at the doorway, Ray passed on to the little innerroom, --the bed chamber. On the bed, carelessly thrown, were the youngofficer's best and newest forage cap, undress uniform coat and trousers. He had used them during the evening when calling at the Hays'. On thefloor were the enamelled leather buttoned boots he wore on suchoccasions. The bed was otherwise untouched. Other boots and shoes inorderly row stood against the wall beside the plain, unpainted wardrobe. The spurred riding boots and the knee-tight breeches were gone. Turningback to the front room, Ray found the major, his face gray anddisturbed, holding forth to him an open envelope. Ray took it andglanced at the superscription. "Lieutenant Beverly Field, Fort Frayne, "and returned it without a word. Both knew the strange, angular, slashinghand-writing at a glance, for both had seen and remarked it before. Itwas Nanette Flower's. 

Dropping the envelope on the table--he had found it on the floor--Webbled the way to the open air. There was then no time to compare views. There stood the sergeant. 

"Sir, " said he, with a snap of the gloved left hand at the brown tubenestling in the hollow of the shoulder, "Number Five reports that he hasheard galloping hoofbeats up the bench twice in the last half hour, andthought he saw distant horsemen, --three;--couldn't say whether they wereIndians or cowboys. "

"Very good, sergeant, " was the major's brief answer. "Send for thetelegraph operator and my orderly. "

The sergeant turned. 

"One moment, " called Ray, --"your pardon, Major--My first sergeant, too, and--sergeant, have any sentries reported horses taken out from thestables to-night?"

"Not one, sir, " and, stanch and sturdy, the commander of the guard stoodready to vouch for his men. 

"That's all!"

A quick salute, a face to the right about and the sergeant was gone. Webb turned and looked inquiringly at Ray. 

"I asked, sir, " was that officer's brief explanation, "because whereverField has gone he wore riding dress. "

CHAPTER III

A NIGHT ENCOUNTER

Comforted by abundant food, refreshed and stimulated by more than two orthree enthusiastic toasts to the health of the major the men so loved, Trooper Kennedy, like a born dragoon and son of the ould sod, bethoughthim of the gallant bay that had borne him bravely and with hardly a haltall the long way from Beecher to Frayne. The field telegraph had indeedbeen stretched, but it afforded more fun for the Sioux than aid to theoutlying posts on the Powder and Little Horn, for it was down ten daysout of twelve. Plodder, lieutenant colonel of infantry commanding atBeecher, had been badly worried by the ugly demonstrations of theIndians for ten days past. He was forever seeing in mind's eye thehideous details of the massacre at Fort Phil Kearny, a few miles furtheron around the shoulder of the mountains, planned and carried out by RedCloud with such dreadful success in '67. Plodder had strong men at hisback, whom even hordes of painted Sioux could never stampede, but theywere few in number, and there were those ever present helpless, dependent women and children. His call for aid was natural enough, andhis choice of Kennedy, daring, dashing lad who had learned to ride inGalway, was the best that could be made. No peril could daunt thelight-hearted fellow, already proud wearer of the medal of honor; but, duty done, it was Kennedy's creed that the soldier merited reward andrelaxation. If he went to bed at "F" Troop's barracks there would be nomore cakes and ale, no more of the major's good grub and rye. If he wentdown to look after the gallant steed he loved--saw to it that Kilmainewas rubbed down, bedded, given abundant hay and later water--sure then, with clear conscience, he could accept the major's "bid, " and call againon his bedward way and toast the major to his Irish heart's andstomach's content. Full of pluck and fight and enthusiasm, and onlyquarter full, he would insist, of rye, was Kennedy as he strodewhistling down the well-remembered road to the flats, for he, withCaptain Truscott's famous troop, had served some months at Frayne beforelaunching forth to Indian story land in the shadows of the Big Hornrange. Kennedy, in fact, essayed to sing when once out of earshot of theguard-house, and singing, he strolled on past the fork of the windingroad where he should have turned to his right, and in the fulness of hisheart went striding southward down the slope, past the once familiarhaunt the store, now dark and deserted, past the big house of the posttrader, past the trader's roomy stables and corral, and so wended hismoonlit way along the Rawlins trail, never noting until he had chantedover half a mile and most of the songs he knew, that Frayne was wellbehind him and the rise to the Medicine Bow in front. Then Kennedybegan to laugh and call himself names, and then, as he turned about toretrace his steps by a short cut over the bottom, he was presentlysurprised, but in no wise disconcerted, to find himself face to facewith a painted Sioux. There by the path side, cropping the dewy grass, was the trained pony. Here, lounging by the trail, the thick blackbraids of his hair interlaced with beads, the quill gorget heaving athis massive throat; the heavy blanket slung negligently, gracefullyabout his stalwart form; his nether limbs and feet in embroideredbuckskin, his long-lashed quirt in hand; here stood, almost confrontinghim, as fine a specimen of the warrior of the Plains as it had ever beenTrooper Kennedy's lot to see, and see them he had--many a time and oft. 

In that incomparable tale, "My Lord the Elephant, " the great Mulvaneycomes opportunely upon a bottle of whiskey and a goblet of water. "Thefirst and second dhrink I didn't taste, " said he, "bein' dhry, but thefourth and fifth took hould, an' I began to think scornful ofelephants. " At no time stood Kennedy in awe of a Sioux. At this time heheld him only in contempt. 

"How, John, " said he, with an Irishman's easy insolence, "Lookin' for achance to steal somethin'--is it?" And then Kennedy was both amazed andenraptured at the prompt reply in the fervent English of the farfrontier. 

"Go to hell, you pock-marked son-of-a-scut! Where'd _you_ steal yourwhiskey?"

For five seconds Kennedy thought he was dreaming. Then, convinced thathe was awake, an Irishman scorned and insulted, he dashed in to theattack. Both fists shot out from the brawny shoulders; both missed theagile dodger; then off went the blanket, and with two lean, red, sinewyarms the Sioux had "locked his foeman round, " and the two were strainingand swaying in a magnificent grapple. At arms' length Pat could easilyhave had the best of it, for the Indian never boxes; but, in a bear hugand a wrestle, all chances favored the Sioux. Cursing and straining, honors even on both for a while, Connaught and wild Wyoming strove forthe mastery. Whiskey is a wonderful starter but a mighty poor stayer ofa fight. Kennedy loosed his grip from time to time to batter wildly withhis clinched fists at such sections of Sioux anatomy as he could reach;but, at range so close, his blows lacked both swing and steam, and fellharmless on sinewy back and lean, muscular flanks. Then he tried aGalway hitch and trip, but his lithe antagonist knew a trick worth tenof that. Kennedy tried many a time next day to satisfactorily accountfor it, but never with success. He found himself speedily on the broadof his back, gasping for breath with which to keep up his vocaldefiance, staring up into the glaring, vengeful black eyes of hisfurious and triumphant foeman. And then in one sudden, awful moment herealized that the Indian was reaching for his knife. Another instant itgleamed aloft in the moonlight, and the poor lad shut his eyes againstthe swift and deadly blow. Curses changed to one wordless prayer toheaven for pity and help. He never saw the glittering blade go spinningthrough the air. Vaguely, faintly he heard a stern young voice ordering"Hold there!" then another, a silvery voice, crying something in astrange tongue, and was conscious that an unseen power had loosed thefearful grip on his throat; next, that, obedient to that samepower, --one he dare not question, --the Indian was struggling slowly tohis feet, and then for a few seconds Kennedy soared away into cloudland, knowing naught of what was going on about him. When he came to again, heheard a confused murmur of talk about him, and grew dimly aware that hislate antagonist was standing over him, panting still and slightlyswaying, and that an officer, a young athlete, was saying rebukefulwords. Well he knew him, as what trooper of the ----th didnot?--Lieutenant Beverly Field; but, seeing the reopened eyes it was theIndian again who sought to speak. With uplifted hand he turned from therescuer to the rescued. 

"You're saved this time, you cur of a Mick, " were, expurgated ofunprintable blasphemy, the exact words of the semi-savage lord of thefrontier, "but by the God that made us both I'll get you before anothermoon, dash dash you, and when I do I'll cut out your blackguard heartand eat it. " Then bounding on his pony, away he sped at mad gallop, westward. 

For a moment no further word was spoken. The officer presently helpedthe soldier to his feet and stayed him, for the latter's legs seemedwobbly. Field let his salvage get its breath before asking questions. Yet he was puzzled, for the man's face was strange to him. "Who areyou?" he asked, at length, "and what on earth are you doing out herethis time of night?"

"Kennedy, sir. Captain Truscott's troop, at Fort Beecher. I got in withdespatches an hour ago--"

"What!" cried Field. "Despatches! What did you do--"

"Gave 'em to the major, sir. Beg pardon; they was lookin' for theadjutant, sir, an' Sergeant Hogan said he wasn't home. "

Even in the moonlight the Irishman saw the color fade from the youngofficer's face. The hand that stayed him dropped nerveless. With utterconsternation in his big blue eyes, Field stood for a moment, stunnedand silent. Then the need of instant action spurred him. "I must go--atonce, " he said. "You are all right now--You can get back? You've beendrinking, haven't you?"

"The major's health, sir--just a sup or two. "

"I've no time now to listen to how you came to be out here. I'll see youby and by. " But still the young officer hesitated. One hand grasped therein of his horse. He half turned to mount, then turned again. "Kennedy, " he faltered, "you'd have been a dead man if we--if I--hadn'treached you at that moment. "

"I know it, sir, " burst in Pat, impetuously. "I'll never forget it--"

"Hush, Kennedy, you _must_ forget--forget that you saw--spoke withme--forget that you saw or heard--any other soul on earth out hereto-night. Can you promise?"

"I'll cut my tongue out before I ever spake the word that'll harm thelieutenant, or the--the--or any one he says, sir. But never will Iforget! It ain't in me, sir. "

"Let it go at that then. Here, shake hands, Kennedy. Now, good-night!"Another instant and Field was in saddle and speeding away toward thepost where lights were now dancing about the quartermaster's corral, andfirefly lamps were flitting down the slope toward the stables on theflats. Ray's men were already up and doing. Slowly, stiffly following, Pat Kennedy rubbed his aching head, with a hand that shook as never didhis resolution. His bewildered brain was puzzling over a weightyproblem. "The lieutenant's safe all right, " he muttered, "but what'sgone wid the squaw that was shoutin' Sioux at that murdherin' buck?"

Meantime all Fort Frayne had seemed to wake to life. No call had soundedon the trumpet. No voice had been raised, save the invariable call ofthe sentries, passing from post to post the half hours of the night; butthe stir at the guard-house, the bustle over at the barracks, the swiftfootsteps of sergeants or orderlies on the plank walk or resoundingwooden galleries, speedily roused first one sleeper, then another, andblinds began to fly open along the second floor fronts, and white-robedforms to appear at the windows, and inquiring voices, male and female, hailed the passerby with "What's the matter, sergeant?" and the answerwas all sufficient to rouse the entire garrison. 

"Captain Ray's troop ordered out, sir, " or "ma'am, " as the case mightbe. No need to add the well-worn cause of such night excursions--"Indians. "

The office was brightly lighted, and there, sleepy-eyed and silent, weregathered many of the officers about their alert commander. Ray was downat his stables, passing judgment on the mounts. Only fifty were to go, the best half hundred in the sorrel troop, for it was to be a forcedmarch. Neither horse nor man could be taken unless in prime condition, for a break down on part of either on the way meant delay to the entirecommand, or death by torture to the hapless trooper left behind. Smallhope was there of a march made unobserved, for Stabber's band ofOgalallas had been for weeks encamped within plain view. Less hope wasthere of Stabber's holding aloof now that his brethren at the Big Hornhad declared for war. He was a recalcitrant of the first magnitude, asub-chief who had never missed the warpath when the Sioux were afield, or the consolation trip to Washington between times. Where Stabber wenthis young men followed unquestioning. It was a marvel that Kennedy hadsucceeded in getting through. It meant that the Indian runners, or theIndian smokes and signals, had not at once so covered the country withscouts that couriers could by no possibility slip between them. But nowthe signal fire was gleaming at Eagle Butte, and an answering blaze hadflared from Stabber's camp. Invisible from Fort Frayne, they had bothbeen seen by shrewd non-commissioned officers, sent scouting up thePlatte by Major Webb within half an hour of the coming of the alarm. 

"Ray will push ahead at once, " said Webb, to his silent subordinates. "You see Colonel Plodder has only two troops up there, and he will needall his infantry to defend the post. I've wired to Laramie and toDepartment Headquarters, and further orders will come before noon. Letall the cavalry be ready. Then if we push out, Dade, we leave FortFrayne to you. They'll hardly venture south of the Platte this time. "

"Is--Mr. Field going with Captain Ray?" presently ventured young Ross, who knew Ray had but one subaltern for duty at the moment, and whosesoul was burning with eagerness to accompany the first troop to take thefield. 

"No, " said the major, shortly. "Captain Ray needs no more. "

"I only asked because Field isn't here, and I thought--maybe--" stumbledRoss, ingloriously, but the mischief was done. 

"Mr. Field is--busy, " answered the major, still more shortly, thenreddened to his bushy brows, for at the doorway, in riding dress, andwith a face the color of parchment, stood the officer in question. Itwas a moment that threatened panic, but Webb met the crisis with markedaplomb. 

"Oh, Field, " he cried, "there's another matter. I want two good men toslip out at once and see how many of Stabber's people start or havestarted. It may be daybreak before they can tell. Sergeant Schreiberwould be a tiptop man for one--and little Duffy. You 'tend to it. "

And so, mercifully, he sent the lad away until the crowd should havedispersed. Only Blake and Ray were with him when, after awhile, Mr. Field returned and stood silently before them. Well he knew that thepost commander could hardly overlook the absence of his adjutant at sucha time. 

"Have you anything to tell me, Field?" was the major's only query, histone full of gentle yet grave reproach. 

"I was restless. I could not sleep, sir. I went out--purposely. "

"You know no horse can be taken from the stables at night except inpresence of the sergeant or corporal of the guard. "

"I took none, sir, " was the answer, and now both faces were white. "Irode one of--Mr. Hay's. "

For one moment there was no sound but the loud ticking of the big officeclock. Then came the question. 

"Who rode the others, Field? The sentries say they heard three. "

There was another moment of silence. Ray stepped on tiptoe to the dooras though he wanted not to hear. Blake looked blankly out of the window. Then the young soldier spoke. 

"I--cannot tell you, sir. "

For full ten seconds the post commander sat with grave, pallid face, looking straight into the eyes of his young staff officer. White as hissenior, but with eyes as unflinching, Field returned the gaze. At lastthe major's voice was heard again, sad and constrained. 

"Field, Captain Ray starts on a forced march at once for Fort Beecher. I--wish you to go with him. "

CHAPTER IV

THE SIGN OF THE BAR SHOE

Many a time has it happened in the old days of the old army that thepost adjutant has begged to be allowed to go with some detachment sentafter Indians. Rarely has it happened, however, that, without anyrequest from the detachment commander or of his own, has the postadjutant been ordered to go. No one could say of Beverly Field that hehad not abundantly availed himself of every opportunity for activeservice in the past. During his first two years with the regiment he hadspent more than half the time in saddle and afield, scouting the trailsof war parties or marauding bands, or watching over a peaceable tribewhen on the annual hunt. Twice he had been out with Ray, which meant aliberal education in plainscraft and frontier duty. Twice twenty times, probably, had he said he would welcome a chance to go again with CaptainRay, and now the chance had come, so had the spoken order, and, so farfrom receiving it with rejoicing, it was more than apparent that heheard it with something like dismay. 

But Webb was not the man to either explain or defend an order, even to ajunior for whom he cherished such regard. Field felt instinctively thatit was not because of a wish expressed in the past he was so suddenlybidden to take the field. Ray's senior subaltern, as has been said, wasabsent, being on duty at West Point, but his junior was on hand, and Rayreally did not need, and probably had not applied for, the services ofMr. Field. It was all the major's doing, and all, reasoned he, becausethe major deemed it best that for the time being his young adjutantshould be sent away from the post. Impulse prompted Field to ask whereinhe had offended or failed. Reflection taught him, however, that he wouldbe wise to ask no questions. It might well be that Webb knew more ofwhat had happened during the night than he, Beverly Field, would care tohave mentioned. 

"You can be ready, can you not?" asked the major. 

"I am ready now, sir, " was the brief, firm reply, but the tone toldunerringly that the lad resented and in heart rebelled at the detail. "To whom shall I turn over the post fund, sir?"

"I do not care to have you transfer funds or--anything, Field. This isbut a temporary affair, one that will take you away perhaps afortnight. "

"I prefer that it should be permanent, sir, " was the young officer'ssudden interruption, and, though his eyes were blazing, he spoke witheffort, his face still white with mingled sense of indignity andindignation. 

"Gently, Mr. Field, " said Webb, with unruffled calm, even whileuplifting a hand in quiet warning. "We will consider that, if need be, on your return. Meantime, if you desire, I will receipt to you for thepost fund or any other public money. "

"That is the trouble, sir. The best I can do is give you an order forit. Post treasurers, as a rule, have not had to turn over their funds atfour o'clock in the morning, " which statement was true enough, howeverinjudicious it might be to bruit it. Mild-mannered commanding officerssometimes amaze their subordinates by most unlooked for and unwelcomeeruptiveness of speech when they feel that an unwarrantable liberty hasbeen taken. Webb did not take fire. He turned icy. 

"The quartermaster's safe can be opened at any moment, Mr. Field, " saidhe, the blue gray eyes glittering, dangerously. "I presume your fundsare there. "

"It was because the quartermaster would _not_ open it at any moment thatI took them out and placed them elsewhere, " hotly answered Field, andnot until then did Webb remember that there had been quite a fiery talk, followed by hyperborean estrangement, between his two staff officers, and now, as the only government safe at the post was in the office ofthe quartermaster, and the only other one was Bill Hay's big "Phoenix"at the store, it dawned upon the major that it was there Mr. Field hadstowed his packages of currency--a violation of orders pure andsimple--and that was why he could not produce the money on the spot. Webb reflected. If he let Ray start at dawn and held Field back untilthe trader was astir, it might be eight o'clock before the youngstercould set forth. By that time Ray would be perhaps a dozen miles to thenorthward, and with keen-eyed Indian scouts noting the march of thetroop and keeping vigilant watch for possible stragglers, it might besending the lad to certain death, for Plodder had said in so many wordsthe Sioux about him had declared for war, had butchered three ranchmenon the Dry Fork, had fired on and driven in his herd guards and woodchoppers, and, what started with Lane Wolf's big band, would spread toStabber's little one in less than no time, and what spread to Stabber'swould soon reach a host of the Sioux. Moreover, there was anotherreason. It would give Field opportunity for further conferencewith--inmates of the trader's household, and the major had his own gravereasons for seeking to prevent that. 

"Your written order will be sufficient, Mr. Field, " said he. "Send mememorandum of the amounts and I will receipt at once, so that you can gowithout further thought of them. And now, " with a glance at the clock, "you have hardly half an hour in which to get ready. "

Raising his hand in mechanical salute, Field faced about; cast one lookat Blake, standing uncomfortably at the window, and then strode angeringaway to his quarters, smarting under a sense of unmerited rebuke yetrealizing that, as matters looked, no one was more to blame thanhimself. 

Just as the first faint flush of coming day was mantling the pallideastern sky, and while the stars still sparkled aloft and the big, bright moon was sinking to the snow-tipped peaks far away to theoccident, in shadowy column a troop of fifty horse filed slowly from TheSorrels' big corral and headed straight for the Platte. Swift andunfordable in front of Frayne in the earlier summer, the river now wentmurmuring sleepily over its stony bed, and Ray led boldly down the bankand plunged girth deep into the foaming waters. Five minutes more andevery man had lined up safely on the northward bank. In low tone theorder was given, starting as Ray ever did, in solid column of fours. Indead silence the little command moved slowly away, followed by the eyesof half the garrison on the bluff. Many of these were women andchildren, who gazed through a mist of tears. Ray turned in saddle as thelast of his men went by; looked long at the dim light in the upperwindow of his home, where, clasping her children to her heart, hisdevoted wife knelt watching them, her fond lips moving in ceaselessprayer. Dimly she could see the tried leader, her soldier husband, sitting in saddle at the bank. Bravely she answered the flutter of hishandkerchief in farewell. Then all was swallowed up in the shadows ofthe distant prairie, and from the nursery adjoining her room there rosea querulous wail that told that her baby daughter was waking, indifferent to the need that sent the soldier father to the aid ofdistant comrades, threatened by a merciless foe, and conscious only ofher infantile demands and expectations. Not yet ten years wed, thatbrave, devoted wife and mother had known but two summers that had nottorn her husband from her side on just such quest and duty, for thesewere the days of the building up of the West, resisted to the bitterend by the red wards of the nation. 

The sun was just peering over the rough, jagged outline of the eastwardbuttes, when a quick yet muffled step was heard on the major's verandaand a picturesque figure stood waiting at the door. Scout, of course, astranger would have said at a glance, for from head to foot the man wasclad in beaded buckskin, without sign of soldier garb of any kind. Soldier, too, would have been the expert testimony the instant the dooropened and the commanding officer appeared. Erect as a Norway pine thestrange figure stood to attention, heels and knees together, shoulderssquared, head and eyes straight to the front, the left hand, fingersextended, after the precise teachings of the ante-bellum days, the righthand raised and held at the salute. Strange figure indeed, yet soldierlyto the last degree, despite the oddity of the entire make-up. Thefur-trimmed cap of embroidered buckskin sat jauntily on black and glossycurls that hung about the brawny neck and shoulders. The buckskin coat, heavily fringed as to the short cape and the shorter skirt, was thicklycovered with Indian embroidery of bead and porcupine quill; so, too, were the fringed trousers and leggings; so, too, the moccasins, soledwith thick, yet pliant hide. Keen black eyes shone from beneath heavyblack brows, just sprinkled, as were the thick moustache and imperial, with gray. The lean jowls were closely shaved. The nose was straight andfine, the chin square and resolute. The face and hands were tanned bysun and wind well nigh as dark as many a Sioux, but in that strangegarb there stood revealed one of the famous sergeants of a famousregiment, the veteran of a quarter century of service with the standard, wounded time and again, bearing the scars of Stuart's sabre and ofSouthern lead, of Indian arrow and bullet both; proud possessor of themedal of honor that many a senior sought in vain; proud as the Luciferfrom whom he took his Christian name, brave, cool, resolute and everreliable--Schreiber, First Sergeant of old "K" Troop for many a year, faced his post commander with brief and characteristic report:--

"Sir, Chief Stabber, with over thirty warriors, left camp about threeo'clock, heading for Eagle Butte. "

"Well done, sergeant! I knew I could count on you, " answered Webb, inhearty commendation. "Now, one thing more. Go to 'F' Troop's quartersand see how Kennedy is faring. He came in with despatches from FortBeecher, and later drank more, I fancy, than was good for him, for whichI assume all responsibility. Keep him out of mischief this morning. "

"I will, sir, " said the sergeant, and saluting turned away while Webbwent back to set a dismantled pantry in partial order, against theappearance of his long-suffering house-keeper, whose comments he dreadedas he did those of no inspector general in the army. For fifteen years, and whithersoever Webb was ordered, his bachelor _ménage_ had beenpresided over by Mistress Margaret McGann, wife of a former trooper, whohad served as Webb's "striker" for so many a year in the earlier daysthat, when discharged for disability, due to wounds, rheumatism andadvancing years, and pensioned, as only Uncle Sam rewards his veterans, McGann had begged the major to retain him and his buxom better half attheir respective duties, and Webb had meekly, weakly yielded, to the endthat in the fulness of time Dame Margaret had achieved an ascendancyover the distinguished cavalry officer little short of that she hadexercised over honest Michael since the very day she consented to becomeMistress McGann. A sound sleeper was she, however, and not until morningpolice call was she wont to leave her bed. Then, her brief toiletcompleted, she would descend to the kitchen and set the major's coffeeon the fire, started by her dutiful spouse an hour earlier. Then sheproceeded to lay the table, and put the rooms in order against themajor's coming, and woe betide him if cigar stubs littered the bachelorsittingroom or unrinsed glasses and half empty decanters told of evenmoderate symposium over night. Returning that eventful morning from hisoffice at first call for reveillé, after seeing the last of Ray'sgallant troop as it moved away across the dim vista of the northwardprairie, Webb had been concerned to find his decanter of Monongahelahalf empty on the pantry table and the _débris_ of a hurried feast onevery side. Kennedy, who had begun in moderation, must have felt theneed of further creature comfort after his bout with the stalwart Sioux, and had availed himself to the limit of his capacity of the major'sinvitation. Webb's first thought was to partially remove the traces ofthat single-handed spree; then, refilling the decanter from the bigfive-gallon demijohn, kept under lock and key in the cupboard--forMichael, too, had at long intervals weaknesses of his own--he wasthinking how best to protect Kennedy from the consequences of his, Webb's, rash invitation when Schreiber's knock was heard. 

Ten minutes more and the sergeant was back again. 

"Sir, I have to report that Trooper Kennedy has not been seen about thequarters, " said he. 

"Then try the stables, sergeant, " answered the veteran campaigner, andthither would Schreiber next have gone, even had he not been sent. And, sure enough, there was Kennedy, with rueful face and a maudlin romauntabout a moonlit meeting with a swarm of painted Sioux, over which thestable guard were making merry and stirring the trooper's soul to wrathungovernable. 

"I can prove ut, " he howled, to the accompaniment of clinching fists andbellicose lunges at the laughing tormentors nearest him. "I can whip thehide off'n the scut that says I didn't. Ask Lootn't Field, bejabers! Hesaw it. Ask--Oh, Mother of God! what's this I'm sayin'?"--And there, with stern, rebuking gaze, stood the man they knew and feared, everysoul of them, as they did no commissioned soldier in the ----th, Sergeant Schreiber, the redoubtable, and Schreiber had heard the insaneand damaging boast. 

"Come with me, Kennedy, " was all he said, and Kennedy snatched hisbattered felt headgear down over his eyes and tacked woefully after hisswift-striding master, without ever another word. 

But it was to his own room Schreiber took the unhappy Irishman, not tothe quarters of Company "F. " He had heard words that, coupled withothers that fell through the darkness on his keenly listening ears sometwo hours earlier, had given him cause for painful thought. "Lie downhere, Kennedy. Pull off your boots, " said he, "and if you open your foolhead to any living soul until I give you leave, py Gott--I'll gill you!"It was Schreiber's way, like Marryatt's famous Boatswain, to begin hisadmonitions in exact English, and then, as wrath overcame him, to lapseinto dialect. 

It was but a few minutes after seven when Major Webb, having previouslydespatched a messenger to the post trader's to say he had need to seeMr. Hay as soon as possible, mounted his horse and, followed by SergeantSchreiber and an orderly, rode quietly past the guard-house, touchinghis hat to the shouted "Turn out the guard--commanding officer" of thesentry on Number One. Mr. Hay was dressing hurriedly, said the servant, so Webb bade Schreiber and the orderly ride slowly down to the flats andawait him at the forks of the road. It was but five minutes before Hayappeared, pulling on his coat as he shot from the door, but even beforehe came the major had been carefully, cautiously scanning the blinds ofthe second story, even while feigning deep interest in the doings of alittle squad of garrison prisoners--the inevitable inmates of theguard-house in the days before we had our safeguard in shape of thesoldier's club--the post exchange--and now again in the days that followits ill-judged extinction. The paymaster had been at Frayne but fivedays earlier. The prison room was full of aching heads, and Hay'scoffers' of hard-earned, ill-spent dollars. Webb sighed at sight of thecrowded ranks of this whimsically named "Company Q, " but in no wiserelaxed his vigilance, for the slats of the blind of the corner windowhad partially opened. He had had a glimpse of feminine fingers, andpurposely he called Hay well out into the road, then bent down over him:

"All your horses in and all right, this morning, Hay?"

"None have been out, " said Hay, stoutly, "unless they've gone within thehour. I never let them have the keys, you know, over night. Pete broughtthem to me at eight last evening and got 'em at six this morning, theusual time. "

"Where does he get them--without waking you?" asked Webb. 

"They hang behind the door in my sleeping room. Pete gets them when hetakes my boots to black at six o'clock. "

"Come over to the stables, " said the commanding officer, and, wondering, Hay followed. 

They found the two hostlers busily at work grooming. In his box stall, bright as a button, was "Harney, " Hay's famous runner, his coat smoothas satin. Hay went rapidly from stall to stall. Of the six saddlersowned by him not one gave the faintest sign of having been used overnight, but Webb, riding through the gangway, noted that "Crapaud, " theFrench halfbreed grooming in the third stall, never lifted his head. Whatever evidence of night riding that might earlier have existed hadbeen deftly groomed away. The trader had seen suspicion in the soldier'seye, and so stood forth, triumphant:--

"No, Major Webb, " said he, in loud, confident, oracular tone, "no horseof mine ever gets out without my knowing it, and never at night unlessyou or I so order it. "

"No?" queried the major, placidly. "Then how do you account for--this?"

Among the fresh hoof prints in the yielding sand, with which the policeparty had been filling the ruts of the outer roadway, was one never madeby government horse or mule. In half a dozen places within a dozen rods, plain as a pikestaff, was the print of a bar shoe, worn on the off forefoot of just one quadruped at the post--Hay's swift running "GeneralHarney. "

CHAPTER V

A GRAVE DISCOVERY

Only an hour was the major away from his post. He came back in time forguard mounting and the reports of the officers-of-the-day. He had reasonto be on the parade at the "assembly of the details, " not so much towatch the work of the post adjutant _pro tempore_, as the effect of thesudden and unlooked for change on certain of the customary spectators. He had swiftly ridden to the camp of the recreant Stabber and purposelydemanded speech with that influential chieftain. There had been theusual attempt on part of the old men left in charge to hoodwink and totemporize, but when sharply told that Stabber, with his warriors, hadbeen seen riding away toward Eagle Butte at three in the morning, thesages calmly confessed judgment, but declared they had no other purposethan a hunt for a drove of elk reported seen about the famous Indianrace course in the lower hills of the Big Horn. Circling the camp, however, Webb had quickly counted the pony tracks across the still dewybunchgrass of the bench, and found Schreiber's estimate substantiallycorrect. Then, stopping at the lodge of Stabbers's uncle, old "SpottedHorse, " where that superannuated but still sagacious chief was squattedon his blanket and ostentatiously puffing a long Indian pipe, Webbdemanded to know what young men remained in the village. Over a hundredstrong, old men, squaws and children, they thronged about him, silent, big-eyed and attentive, Schreiber interpreting as best he could, resorting to the well-known sign language when the crafty Siouxprofessed ignorance of the meaning of his words:--

"No young men. All gone, " was the positive declaration of the venerablehead of the bailiwick, when compelled at last to answer. But Schreiberhad studied the pony herd and knew better. Moreover, not more than sixof their ponies had been led along with the war party that set forth inthe early hours of the moonlit morning. Others, both men and mounts, unavoidably left behind, would surely be sent forward at the firstpossible opportunity, and, much as Webb might wish to turn back tocapture the party, well as he might know that other bands were in revoltand Stabber gone to help them, he was powerless under his orders tointerfere until by some openly hostile act these laggards of the littleband invited his reprisal. The rule of the road, as prescribed by thecivil authorities, to which the soldier had sworn obedience, beingpractically, "Don't defend until you are hit. Don't shoot until you areshot. "

Webb came cantering back assured that these frowsy, malodorous lodgesconcealed, perhaps, half a score of fighting men who were a menace tothe neighborhood and who could be counted on to make it more thaninteresting for any couriers that might have to be sent between the fortand the forces at the front. Calling Schreiber to his side, as, withlong easy stride their trained mounts went loping swiftly homeward, hegave instructions the veteran heard with kindling eyes. Then, partingfrom him at the corrals, the commander rode on and dismounted at hisquarters just as the trumpeters were forming on the broad, grassy levelof the parade. 

Even without a band young Field had managed to make his guard mount apretty and attractive ceremony. Frayne was a big post and needed a dailyguard of twenty-four men, with the usual quota of non-commissionedofficers. Cowboys, herders, miners, prospectors, rustlers (those piratesof the plains) and occasional bands of Indians, Sioux or Arapahoe, wereforever hovering about its borders in search of supplies, solid orfluid, and rarely averse to the conversion of public property topersonal use. Like many a good citizen of well-ordered municipalitieswithin the confines of civilization, they held that what belonged to thegovernment belonged to them, and the fact that some officer would haveto pay for whatsoever they stole, from a horse to a hammer, cut nofigure in their deliberations. Frayne had long been a favorite place forfitting out depleted stock, animal, vegetable or mineral, and there hadbeen times when Webb found as many as forty men almost too small aguard, and so gave it to be understood that sentries whose carbines wereunlawfully discharged at night, without the formality of preliminarychallenge or other intimation of business intentions, would be heldblameless, provided they had something to show for their shot. Aremarkable feature of the winter's depredation had been that Hay'scorral was never molested, although unguarded by the garrison and quiteas much exposed as the most remote of the government shops, shanties orstables. 

Field mounted his guard, except in cold or stormy weather, in fulluniform, and the daily "march past" in review brought many of thegarrison ladies, most of the children and all of the dogs to the scene. Some of the households breakfasted just before, --some just after--guardmounting, but, as a rule, no one sat at table when almost everybody elsewas gathered along the westward edge of the broad parade. It was therethe plans for the social day were discussed and determined. Rides, drives, hunts or picnics away from the post; dances, dinners, croquet ortennis within the garrison limits. It was the hour when all the girlswere out, looking fair and fresh as daisies, and while the motherssedately gossiped along the row of broad verandas, their daughtersblithely chatted in little groups, or, as might often be, paced slowlywith downcast eyes and mantling cheeks at the side of some young gallantwho had no thought for other duty than that of the thrilling moment. Andhere they were, well nigh a dozen of them, of all ages from twelve totwenty, as the major sent his mount to the stables and made quick surveyof the scene, and a moment's glance was sufficient to show that amongthem all there was stir and excitement beyond that which would becaused by so common an incident as the sending forth of a troop onscout. 

It was the fact that Field had gone and that young Ross was acting inhis place that set them all to speculating on the cause. One of theirnumber, promenading with Lieutenant Hartley, glanced up at Major Webb asthey passed him by, with such a world of mingled question and reproachin her soft blue eyes that his heart for the moment smote him. He hadnever seen Esther Dade looking so languid or so wan, yet more _of_ herand _for_ her had he been thinking during the week gone by than of anyother girl in or out of the army. To-day, however, there was another heeagerly sought to see, and, with something akin to keen disappointment, noted that she was not among the strollers along the board walk or thechatting groups about the steps and gateways. Not once during her briefvisit had she as yet missed guard mounting. Now her absence wassignificant. In the very eyes of the little party hastening towardhim--three young girls and a brace of subalterns--he read question andcross-question, and was thankful to see Hay, the trader, trudging up thewalk to join him. So seldom did the old frontiersman enter thequadrangle that people remarked upon his coming;--remarked still morewhen Webb hurried down to meet him. 

"You're right about the horses, major, " said Hay, mopping a moist andtroubled face with a big bandana. "My racer and my best single footer, Dan, were out last night. Dan's saddle cloth was wet and so wasHarney's. Some one outside has got false keys, --I'll put new padlocks onat once, --but for the life of me I can't think who would play me such atrick. To _steal_ the horses, --run 'em off to Rawlins or up theSweetwater or off to the Hills--I could understand that! but to borrowthem for an hour or two, --why, it beats me hollow!" And Hay in deepperplexity leaned against the low fence and almost imploringly gazedinto the major's face. They all leaned on Webb. 

"Any idea who they were?" asked the commander. 

"Not the skin of a shadow, 'cept that one man rode shorter stirrups'n Ido. They forgot to set 'em back. They had my California saddle on Danand that light Whitman of mine on Harney. "

"Sure it was two men?" queried Webb, looking straight into the trader'seyes. 

"What else could it be?" demanded Hay, in no little excitement. 

"Well, I thought possibly Miss Flower might have been moved to take amoonlight ride. No reason why she shouldn't, you know, and not wishingto disturb you----"

"Then she would have used her own side-saddle. What's she doing with aman's? Besides, she'd have told me!"

"Oh! You've seen her then this morning? I thought perhaps she wasn'tup, " hazarded Webb. 

"Up? Why, hang it, she was up at daybreak--up hours ago, my wife says. Haven't you seen her? She's over here somewhere?"

No, Webb had not seen her, and together the two started in search, firstto the flagstaff, and there at the point of bluff beyond theRays', --there she stood, gazing up the Platte toward the Indian villagethrough a pair of signal glasses that weighed heavily in her daintilygloved hands. Captain Tracy, a bachelor assistant surgeon, stoodfaithfully by her side, listening to her lively chatter, with ears thatabsorbed and eyes that worshipped. 

"Come away, " said Webb. "I have an order on you for Field's currency inyour safe. When are you going to try to get your cash to bank?" And Webbkeenly eyed his man as he asked the question. 

"To-morrow or next day sure, --even if I have to go part way with thestage myself. When do you want this money?" said Hay, tapping theenvelope Webb had given him. 

"Well, now, if agreeable to you. I prefer to keep such funds at thequartermaster's. Oh--Good morning, Mrs. Ray!" he cheerily called, lifting his cap, at sight of a young matron at an upper window. "Can yousee them still?" he added, for the elder of the two boys was peeringthrough a long telescope, perched on its brass tripod upon a littleshelf projecting from the sill. Many a time had the "Rays' spyglass"been the last to discern some departing troop as it crossed the lowdivide ten miles away to the north. Many a time had the firstannouncement of "courier coming" reached headquarters through MasterSandy, the first born of their olive branches. There were unshed tearsin the gentle voice that answered. There was wordless anxiety in thesweet, pallid face that smiled so bravely through its sorrow. "The trooppassed out of sight quarter of an hour ago, major, " said Mrs. Ray. "ButSandy could see the flankers on their left until within the last fiveminutes. "

"_Way_ out on their left, major!" interposed that young gentleman, bigwith importance. "If old Stabber tries any of his tricks with _that_troop he'll--he'll get his belly full!" and Master Sandy plainlyintimated both in tone and manner, not to mention the vernacular of thesoldier, that Stabber might take liberties with any other troop orcompany at the post, but would best beware of Daddy's. And yet, notthree months agone he had stoutly taken up the cudgels for the Fraynegarrison, as a whole, against the field, the wordy battle with the sonand heir of the colonel commanding at Laramie culminating in a combatonly terminated by the joint efforts of the stable sergeant and sentry, for both youngsters were game as their sires. What Sandy Ray was nowpraying to see was an attack by Stabber's band upon the isolated troop, but Stabber, it may be said, knew a trick worth ten of that. There wasno sense in pitching into the sorrel troop on even terms when by waitinganother day, perhaps, and the answer of Lame Wolf to the appeal of hisspeedy messenger, he might outnumber and overwhelm them with five toone. 

"We should be hearing from Omaha and Laramie by ten o'clock, Mrs. Ray, "said the major, reassuringly, "and I will send you word at once. And, ofcourse, Corporal Ray, " he continued, and now with martial formalityaddressing the lad at the telescope, "I can rely upon you to report atonce in case you see anything suspicious toward the Big Horn. "

"Yes, sir, " answered the boy, straightening up to attention. Then, scrupulously exchanging salutes, the old soldier and the young partedcompany, and the major returned to receive the reports of the old andnew officers of the day. These gentlemen were still with him, CaptainChew, of the Infantry, and the senior first lieutenant for duty with the----th, when Hay came hurrying up the board walk from the direction ofthe store. For reasons of his own, Webb had sent his orderly to theguard-house to say to the officers in question that he would await themat his quarters instead of the little building known as the adjutant'soffice, in which were the offices of the commander, the record room inwhich were placed the desks of the sergeant-major and his three clerks, and the sleeping rooms of the special duty soldiers. It had happenedmore than once in the past that garrison stories of matters not supposedto be known outside the office had been traced back to that desk room, and now Webb's questions of his old officer of the day, and hisinstructions to the new were not things he cared to have bruited aboutthe post. He was listening intently to the captain's report of thesentries' observations during the night gone by when Hay reached thegate and stopped, not wishing to intrude at such a moment. 

"Come in, Mr. Hay, " said the commander, cordially. "This all willinterest you, " and, thus bidden, the trader joined the soldiers three onthe veranda, and some of the young people of the garrison, setting uptheir croquet arches on the parade, looked curiously toward the group, and wondered what should keep the old officer-of-the-day so long. Sauntering down the walk, smiling radiantly upon the occupants of thevarious verandas that she passed, then beaming between times into theface of her smitten escort, her black eyes and white teeth flashing inthe rare sunshine, Nanette Flower was gradually nearing the major'squarters. She was barely twenty yards away when, in obedience to someword of the major, Mr. Hay held forth two white packages that, even atthe distance, could be recognized, so far as the outer covering wasconcerned, as official envelopes. She was too far away, perhaps, to hearwhat was said. 

"It seems, " began Webb, to his officers, as he mechanically opened thefirst packet, "that Field took fire at Wilkins's growls about the botherof keeping his funds, so the youngster stowed his money with Hay. Heinsisted on turning over everything before he left, so I receipted tohim. Let's see, " he continued, glancing at the memorandum in his hand. "Three hundred and seventy-two dollars and eighty-five cents post fund, and four hundred belonging to various enlisted men. I may as well countit in your presence. "

By this time the long, lean fingers had ripped open the package markedfour hundred, and were extracting the contents, --a sheet of officialpaper with figures and memoranda, and then a flat package, apparently, of currency. Topmost was a five dollar treasury note; bottom-mostanother of the same denomination. Between them, deftly cut, trimmed andsized, were blank slips of paper to the number of perhaps thirty and thevalue of not one cent. With paling faces the officers watched thetrembling fingers slash open the second, its flap, as was that of thefirst envelope, securely gummed, --not sealed. A nickel or two and a fewdimes slid out before the packet came. It was of like consistency withthe first--and of about the same value. Webb lifted up his eyes andlooked straight into the amazed, --almost livid, face of the trader. 

"My God! Major Webb, " cried Hay, aghast and bewildered. "Don't look atme like that! No man on earth has ever accused me of a crime. This meansthat not only my stable but my safe has been robbed, --and there is atraitor within my gates. "

Dr. Tracy, absorbed in contemplation of Miss Flower's radiant face, andin the effort to make his own words eloquent, had no ears for those ofothers. He never heeded the trader's excited outburst. He only saw hersuddenly flinch, suddenly pale, then sway. His ready arm was round herin a twinkling. In a twinkling she twisted free from the undesiredclasp. 

"Just--my foot turned!--a pebble!" she gasped. 

But when, all assiduity, Tracy would have seated her on the horseblockand examined the delicate ankle, she refused straightway, and withalmost savage emphasis, and with rigid lips from which all lovelinesshad fled, bade him lead on home, where, despite protest and appeal, personal and professional, she dismissed him curtly. 

CHAPTER VI

FIRST SIGHT OF THE FOE

Ray's gallant half hundred, as has been said, took the route for thenorth at break of day. Before them spread the open prairie, apparentlylevel and unbroken for full five miles to the front and either flank, the distant slopes and ridges bounding the level expanse growing moredistinct with every moment, and presently lighting up in exultingradiance in response to the rosy blushes of the eastward sky. Scorningthe dusty stage road, the troop commander pointed to a distant heightjust visible against the northward horizon, bade the leading guide marchstraight on that; then gave the order "Right by Twos, " that he might themore readily note the gait and condition of every horse and the bearingand equipment of his rider. There was still time to weed out weaklingsof either class should any such there be. Riding slowly along the leftflank, one after another, he carefully scanned every man and mount inhis little detachment, then, at quicker pace, passed around to theeastward side of the column, and as critically, carefully studied themfrom that point of view. A light of quiet satisfaction shone in hisfine, dark eyes as he finished, for, next to his wife and children, that troop was Ray's supreme delight. The preliminary look-over bylantern light had been all sufficient. This later inspection on the moverevealed not a steed amiss, not an item of equipment either misplaced orlacking. "Steady as planets, " barring the irrepressible tendency of someyoung, high-spirited horse to dance a bit until quieted by the monotonyof the succeeding miles, at quick, light-hoofed walk, the sorrelstripped easily along in precise, yet companionable couples. "One yardfrom head to croup, " said the drill book of the day, and, but for that, the riders might have dropped their reins upon the pommel as practicallyunnecessary. But, for the first hour or so, at least, the tendencytoward the rear of column was ever to crowd upon the file leaders, aproceeding resented, not infrequently, in less disciplined commands thanRay's, by well-delivered kicks, or at least such signs of equinedisapprobation as switching tail or set-back ears. But Ray's troophorses moved like so many machines, so constant and systematic had beentheir drill; and Ray's men rode in the perfection of uniform, so far asarmament and equipment were concerned. Each greatcoat, precisely rolled, was strapped with its encircling poncho at the pommel. Each blanket, assnugly packed, with the sidelines festooned upon the top, was strappedat the cantle. Lariat and picket pin, coiled and secured, hung from thenear side of the pommel. The canteen, suspended from its snap hook, hungat the off side. Saddle-bags, with extra horse shoes, nails, socks, underwear, brushes and comb, extra packages of carbine and revolvercartridges and minor impedimenta, equally distributed as to weight, swung from the cantle and underneath the blanket roll. From the broad, black leather carbine sling, over each trooper's left shoulder, thehard-shooting brown barrelled little Springfield hung suspended, itsmuzzle thrust, as was the fashion of the day, into the crude socketimposed so long upon our frontier fighters by officials who had neverseen the West, save, as did a certain writer of renown, from a carwindow, thereby limiting their horizon. Ray despised that socket as hedid the Shoemaker bit, but believed, with President Grant, that the bestmeans to end obnoxious laws was their rigorous enforcement. Each man'srevolver, a trusty brown Colt, hung in its holster at the right hip. Each man was girt with ammunition belt of webbing, the device of anold-time Yankee cavalryman that has been copied round the world, thedull-hued copper cartridges bristling from every loop. Each man wore, aswas prescribed, the heavy, cumbrous cavalry boot of the day andgeneration, but had stowed in his saddle-bags light moccasins andleggings with which to replace them when, farther afield, theirclear-headed commander should give the word. Each man, too, wore thegauntlets of Indian-tanned buckskin, a special pattern that Ray had beenpermitted to use experimentally. Each man was clad in dark blue flannelshirt and blouse, the latter soon probably to be stored with the big, weighty boots in Truscott's saddle room at Beecher, with, probably too, many of the light blue riding breeches, saddle-pieced with canvas--theuniform at the start destined, in the case of veteran troopers, atleast, to be shed in favor of brown duck hunting trousers, or even, among certain extremists, fringed, beaded and embroidered buckskin, thanwhich the present chronicler knows no more uncomfortable garb whensoaked by pelting rains or immersion in some icy mountain stream. Eventhe brown campaign hats, uniformly "creased, " as the fifty left theford, would soon be knocked out of all semblance to the prescribedshape, and made at once comfortable and serviceable. Add to these itemsthe well-filled haversack and battered tin quart cup, (for on a forcedmarch of two or three days Captain Ray would have no pack mules, ) andthe personal equipment of his men was complete. As for the mounts, eachsorrel tripped easily along under the sextuple folds of the saddleblanket, and the black-skinned McClellan saddle tree, with its broadhorsehair cincha and hooded wooden stirrups, minus the useless skirtsand sweat leathers. Neither breast strap, crupper nor martingalehampered the free movements of the sturdy, stocky little weightcarriers. The black, single-reined curb bridle, fastened as to thethroat latch by a light buckle, was slipped on over the headstall of theso-called watering bridle, whose toggled and detachable snaffle bit wasgenerally "toted" from start to finish of a field scout in the saddlebags, --a twist of the flexible lariat, Indian fashion, between thecomplaisant jaws of his pet, being the troop's ready substitute. Add tothis that, full, free and unmutilated, in glossy waves the beautifulmanes and tails tossed in the upland breeze (for the heresies ofAnglomania never took root in the American cavalry) and you have Ray'sfamous troop as it looked, fresh started from old Fort Frayne thisglorious autumn morning of 188-, and with a nod of approbation, and "Itcouldn't be better, sergeant, " to his devoted right hand man, theveteran senior non-commissioned officer of the troop, Ray rang out thecommand "At ease, " and placed himself beside the silent young lieutenantat the head of column. 

[Illustration: RAY'S TROOP. ]

As has been said, Ray's senior subaltern was on detached service. Hisjunior, Mr. Clayton, had joined but the year before, and this threw Mr. Field in command of the leading platoon and to the side of the leadingguide. Now, as the senior officer took the head of column and Mr. Clayton fell back to the rear, the silence of the first mile of marchwas broken and, though sitting erect in saddle and forbidden to loungeor "slouch, " the troop began its morning interchange of chaff andcomment. Every mother's son of them rejoiced to be once more afield witha chance of stirring work ahead. 

"It's time to throw out our advance, Field, " said Ray, in kindly, cordial tone, as he scanned the low divide still some miles ahead andreined in beside the stern-faced young soldier. "Send Sergeant Scottforward with three men and the same number on each flank--corporals incharge. "

He had more than liked Webb's adjutant. He had been his stanchestfriend and supporter among the troop and company commanders, and waseager to befriend him now. He had expressed no wish to have him sent onthe hurried move, but well he knew the post commander's reasons andapproved his course. Still, now that Field was being removed, for thetime at least, from the possibility of an entangling alliance that mightprove disastrous, in every way in his power Ray meant to show themortified, indeed sorely angered, officer that his personal regard forhim had suffered no change whatever. If he could succeed in winningField's confidence it might well be that he could bring him to see thatthere were good and sufficient grounds for the post commander'saction--that for Field's own good, in fact, it was a most desirablemove. The soul of loyalty and square dealing himself, Ray had never fora moment dreamed that anything other than a foolish escapade hadoccurred--a ride by moonlight, perhaps, demanded of her devotee by athoughtless, thoroughbred coquette, whose influence over the youngfellow was beginning to mar his usefulness, if not indeed his futureprospects. Just what to think of Nanette Flower Ray really did not know. Marion, his beloved better half, was his unquestioned authority in allsuch matters, and it was an uncommon tenet of that young matron never tocondemn until she had cause. Instinctively she shrank from what she hadseen of Miss Flower, even though her woman's eye rejoiced in theelegance of Miss Flower's abundant toilets; and, conscious of herintuitive aversion, she would utter no word that might later proveunjust. Oddly enough, that instinctive aversion was shared by herclosest friend and neighbor, Mrs. Blake; but, as yet, the extent oftheir condemnation had found vent only in the half whimsical, halfpetulant expression on part of the younger lady--Blake's beautiful wife, "I wish her name weren't--so near like mine, " for "Nan" had been her petname almost from babyhood. Vaguely conscious were they both, these lordsof creation, Messrs. Blake and Ray, that the ladies of their love didnot approve of Miss Flower, but Ray had ridden forth without ever askingor knowing why, and so, unknowing, was ill prepared to grapple with theproblem set before him. It is easier to stem a torrent with a shinglethan convince a lover that his idol is a shrew. 

Without a word of reply, Field reined out of column, glanced along thedouble file of his platoon, nodded a signal "Fall out" to SergeantScott, and the men nearest him at the front, merely said "Advanceguard, " and then proceeded to choose his corporals and men for flankers. No need to tell Scott what to do! He had been leading scouts in Arizonalong ere Field had even dreamed of West Point. In five minutes, ridingat easy lope, carbines advanced, three little parties of four trooperseach were spreading far out to the front and flank, guarding the littlecolumn against the possibility of sudden assault from hidden foe. Hereupon the level prairie one would think such precaution needless, butevery acre of the surface was seamed and gullied by twisting littlewater courses, dry as a chip at the moment, and some of them so deep asto afford cover even for the biggest pony of the wild warriors of theplains. Then, to the front, the barrier ridges, streaked with deepwinding ravines, were now billowing against the northward sky, and onceamong those tangled land waves no chances could be taken now that it wasknown that the Sioux had declared for war, and that Stabber's band wasout to join their red brethren in the oft recurring outbreak. Untiltheir lands were criss-crossed by the railways and their mountain hauntsre-echoed to the scream of the iron horse, next to nothing would startan Indian war: it took so long to reach the scene with troops insufficient numbers to command their respect. 

And at this moment the situation was grave in the extreme. There hadbeen bad blood and frequent collision between the cattlemen, herders, "hustlers, "--especially hustlers, --and the hunting parties of the Siouxand the Northern Cheyenne, who clung to the Big Horn Range and thesuperb surrounding country with almost passionate love and with jealoustenacity. There had been aggression on both sides, then bloodshed, thenattempts on part of frontier sheriffs to arrest accused or suspected redmen, and equally determined and banded effort to prevent arrest ofaccused and identified whites. By due process of law, as administered inthe days whereof we write, the Indian was pretty sure to get the worstof every difference, and therefore, preferred, not unnaturally, his owntime-honored methods of settlement. In accordance therewith, had theyscalped the sheriff's posse that had shot two of their young braves whohad availed themselves of a purposely given chance to escape, and thenin their undiscriminating zeal, the Sioux had opened fire from ambush onPlodder's hunting parties and the choppers at the wood camp, whodefended themselves as best they could, to the end that more men, redand white, were killed. The Indians rallied in force and closed in aboutFort Beecher, driving the survivors to shelter within its guarded lines, and then, when Plodder needed every man of his force to keep the foe atrespectful distance, so that his bullets could not reach the quartersoccupied by the women and children at the post, there reached him bynight a runner from the stage station far over to the southeast, on adry fork of the Powder, saying that the north and south bound stages hadtaken refuge there, with only ten men, all told, to stand off some fiftywarriors, and therefore imploring assistance. Not daring to send atroop, Plodder called for volunteers to bear despatches to Major Webb, at Frayne, and Pat Kennedy, with half a dozen brave lads, had promptlystepped forward. Kennedy had managed to slip through the encirclingSioux by night, and to reach Fort Frayne after a daring and almostdesperate ride. Then Ray was ordered forth, first to raise the siege atthe stage station, then, either to hold that important relay ranch or goon to reinforce Plodder as his judgment and the situation might dictate. 

He knew enough of the stout adobe walls of the corral on the Dry Fork, and of the grit of the few defenders, to feel reasonably sure that, with ammunition, provisions and water in plenty, they could easily holdout a week if need be against the Sioux, so long as they fought on thedefensive and the Indians were not strongly reinforced. He reasoned thatStabber and his people were probably gone to strengthen the attack, andthat having an hour's start at least, and riding faster, they would getthere somewhat ahead of him. But one of his own old sergeants, a veteranof twenty years in the cavalry, was now stationmaster on the Dry Fork, and all the Sioux from the Platte to Paradise couldn't stampede old JimKelly. Many a forced march had Ray made in the past, and well he knewthat the surest way to bring his horses into action, strong and sound atthe finish, was to move "slow and steady" at the start, to move at thewalk until the horses were calm and quiet, was his rule. Then on thisbright September day would come the alternating trot and lope, withbrief halts to reset saddles; then, later still, the call upon hiswilling men and mounts for sustained effort, and by sunset he and theycould count on riding in, triumphant, to the rescue, even though Stabberhimself should seek to bar the way. 

And that Stabber meant to watch the road, if not to block it, becameevident before the head of column began the gradual ascent of MoccasinRidge, from whose sharp crest the little band could take their lastlook, for the time, at least, at the distant walls of Frayne. Somewheretoward seven-thirty Corporal Connors' foremost man, far out on the leftflank, riding suddenly over a low divide, caught sight of a bonnetedwarrior bending flat over his excited pony and lashing that nimble, fleet-footed creature to mad gallop in the effort to reach the cover ofthe projecting point of bluff across the shallow ravine that cut intoward the foothills. Stone, the trooper, lifted his campaign hat onhigh once, and then lowered his arm to the horizontal, hat in hand, pointing in the direction the darting savage was seen, and thus, withouta syllable having been spoken at the front, word was passed in to Raythat one Indian had been sighted far out to the northwest. 

"They may try to hold us among the breaks of the Mini Pusa, " said he, tohis still unreconciled second in command. Field had been civil, respectful, but utterly uncommunicative in his replies to the captain'srepeated cordialities. Any attempt to even remotely refer to the causesthat led to his being ordered out with the detachment had been met withchilling silence. Now, however, the foe had been seen and could becounted on to resist if his rallied force much exceeded that of thetroop, or to annoy it by long-range fire if too weak to risk otherencounter. The command halted one moment at the crest to take one long, lingering look at the now far-distant post beyond the Platte; then, swinging again into saddle, moved briskly down into the long, widehollow between them and the next divide, well nigh three miles across, and as they reached the low ground and traversed its little draininggully, a muttered exclamation "Look there!" from the lips of the firstsergeant, called their attention again to the far left front. Stone, the trooper who had reported the first Indian, had turned his horse overto the second man, as had the corporal on that flank, and together theywere crouching up along the eastward face of a billowing hillock, while, straight to the front Sergeant Scott, obedient to a signal from his lefthand man, was speeding diagonally along the rise to the north, for allthree advance troopers had halted and two were cautiously dismounting. Ray watched one moment, with kindling eyes, then turned to his youngchief of platoons:

"Take your men, Field, and be ready to support. There's something behindthat second ridge!"

CHAPTER VII

BLOOD WILL TELL

As Webb had predicted, even before nine o'clock, came prompt, spiritedresponse from Laramie, where the colonel had ordered the four troops toprepare for instant march, and had bidden the infantry to be ready forany duty the general might order. From Omaha, --departmentheadquarters, --almost on the heels of the Laramie wire came cheery wordfrom their gallant chief: "Coming to join you noon train to-day. Cheyenne 1:30 to-morrow. Your action in sending Ray's troop approved. Hold others in readiness to move at a moment's notice. Wire further newsNorth Platte, Sidney or Cheyenne to meet me. "

So the note of preparation was joyous throughout the barracks on theeastward side and mournful among the married quarters elsewhere. Buteven through the blinding tears with which so many loving women wrought, packing the field and mess kits of soldier husbands whose duties keptthem with their men at barracks or stables, there were some, at least, who were quick to see that matters of unusual moment called certain ofthe major's stanchest henchmen to the office, and that grave and earnestconsultation was being held, from which men came with sombre faces andclose-sealed lips. First to note these indications was the indomitablehelpmate of old Wilkins, the post quartermaster. She had no dread on hisaccount, for rheumatism and routine duties, as the official in charge ofUncle Sam's huge stack of stores and supplies, exempted her liege fromduty in the field; and, even while lending a helping hand where someyoung wife and mother seemed dazed and broken by the sudden call toarms, she kept eyes and ears alert as ever, and was speedily confidingto first one household, then another, her conviction that there was abig sensation bundled up in the bosom of the post commander and hiscronies, and she knew, she said, it was something about Field. Everybody, of course, was aware by eight o'clock that Field had gonewith Ray, and while no officer presumed to ask if it was because Ray, orField, had applied for the detail, no woman would have been restrainedtherefrom by any fear of Webb. Well he realized this fact and, dodgingthe first that sought to waylay him on the walk, he had later intrenchedhimself, as it were, in his office, where Dade, Blake and the old postsurgeon had sat with him in solemn conclave while Bill Hay brought hisclerk, bar-keeper, store-keeper, Pete, the general utility man, and even"Crapaud, " the halfbreed, to swear in succession they had no idea whocould have tampered with either the safe or the stables. Closely hadthey been cross-examined; and, going away in turn, they told of thenature of the cross-examination; yet to no one of their number had beenmade known what had occurred to cause such close questioning. Hay hadbeen forbidden to speak of it, even to his household. Theofficers-of-the-day were sworn to secrecy. Neither Wilkins nor theacting adjutant was closeted with the council, and neither, therefore, could do more than guess at the facts. Yet that somebody knew, in partat least, the trend of suspicion, was at once apparent to Webb and hiscouncilors when, about nine o'clock, he took Blake and Dade to see thosesignificant "bar shoe" hoof prints. Every one of them had disappeared. 

"By Jove!" said Webb, "I know _now_ I should have set a sentry withorders to let no man walk or ride about here. See! He's used his foot tosmear this--and this--and here again!"

There in a dozen places were signs old Indian trailers read as theywould read an open book. Places where, pivoting on the heel, a heavyfoot had crushed right and left into the yielding soil of the roadway, making concentric, circular grooves and ridges of sandy earth, where, earlier in the morning Dan's and Harney's dainty hoof prints were theonly new impressions. For nearly fifty yards had this obliteratingprocess been carried on, and in a dozen spots, until the road dippedover the rounding edge and, hard and firm now, went winding down to theflats. Here Webb, with Dade and Hay, returned, while Blake meandered on, musing over what he had been told. "It's a government heel, not acowboy's, " had Hay said, hopefully, of the print of that pivoting lumpof leather. 

"That gives no clue to the wearer, " answered Blake. "Our men often selltheir new boots, or give their old ones, to these hangers-on about thepost. So far as I'm concerned, the care with which the print has beenerased is proof to me that the major saw just what he said. Somebodyabout Hay's place was mighty anxious to cover his tracks. "

But a dozen "somebodies" besides the stablemen hung there at all hoursof the day, infesting the broad veranda, the barroom and stores, striving to barter the skin of coyote, skunk or beaver, or, when theyhad nothing to sell, pleading for an unearned drink. Half a dozen ofthese furtive, beetle-browed, swarthy sons of the prairie lounged therenow, as the elder officers and the trader returned, while Blake went onhis way, exploring. With downcast eyes he followed the road to andacross a sandy watercourse in the low ground, and there, in two or threeplaces found the fresh imprint of that same bar shoe, just as describedby Webb. Then with long, swift strides he came stalking up the hillagain, passing the watchful eyes about the corral without a stop, andonly checking speed as he neared the homestead of the Hays, where, onceagain, he became engrossed in studying the road and the hard pathways atthe side. Something that he saw, or fancied that he saw, perhaps a dozenyards from the trader's gate, induced him to stop, scrutinize, turn, and, with searching eyes, to cross diagonally the road in the directionof the stables, then again to retrace his steps and return to theeastward side. Just as he concluded his search, and once more wentbriskly on his way, a blithe voice hailed him from an upper window, andthe radiant face and gleaming white teeth of Nanette Flower appearedbetween the opening blinds. One might have said he expected both thesight and question. 

"Lost anything, Captain Blake?"

"Nothing but--a little time, Miss Flower, " was the prompt reply as, without a pause, the tall captain, raising his forage-cap, pushedswiftly on. "But I've found something, " muttered he to himself, betweenhis set teeth, and within five minutes more was again closeted with thepost commander. 

"You saw it?" asked Webb. 

"Yes. Three or four places--down in the arroyo. More than that--Where'sHay?" he broke off suddenly, for voices were sounding in the adjoiningroom. 

"Here, with Dade and the doctor. "

"Then--" But Blake got no further. Breathless and eager, little SandyRay came bounding through the hallway into the presence of the officers. He could hardly gasp his news:

"Major, you told me to keep watch and let you know. There's a couriercoming--hard! Mother saw him--too, through the--spyglass. She saysthey--see him, too at Stabber's--and she's afraid----"

"Right!" cried Webb. "Quick, Blake; rush out half a dozen men to meethim. Those devils may indeed cut him off. Thank you, my little man, " headded, bending down and patting the dark curly head, as Blake wentbounding away. "Thank you, Sandy. I'll come at once to the bluff. We'llsave him. Never you fear. "

In less than no time, one might say, all Fort Frayne seemed hurrying tothe northward bluff. The sight of tall Captain Blake bounding like agreyhound toward his troop barracks, and shouting for his firstsergeant, --of Major Webb almost running across the parade toward theflagstaff, --of Sandy rushing back to his post at the telescope, --of theadjutant and officer of the day tearing away toward the stables, wheremany of the men were now at work, were signs that told unerringly ofsomething stirring, probably across the Platte. As luck would have it, in anticipation of orders to move, the troop horses had not been sentout to graze, and were still in the sunshiny corrals, and long beforethe news was fully voiced through officers' row, Blake and six of hismen were in saddle and darting away for the ford, carbines advanced theinstant they struck the opposite bank. 

From the bluff Webb had shouted his instructions. "We could see him amoment ago, " for half a dozen field glasses were already brought tobear, "six miles out, --far east of the road. Feel well out to your leftto head off any of Stabber's people. Three of them have been seengalloping out already. "

"Aye, aye, sir, " came the answering shout, as Blake whirled and toreaway after his men. There had been a time in his distant past when thenavy, not the army, was his ambition, and he still retained some of theways of the sea. Just as Webb feared, some few of Stabber's youngwarriors had been left behind, and their eagle-eyed lookout had sightedthe far-distant courier almost as soon as Sandy's famous telescope. Nowthey were hastening to head him off. 

But he seemed to have totally vanished. Level as appeared the northwardprairie from the commanding height on which stood the throng of eagerwatchers, it was in reality a low, rolling surface like some lazilyheaving sea that had become suddenly solidified. Long, broad, shallowdips or basins lay between broad, wide, far-extending, yet slight, upheavals. Through the shallows turned and twisted dozens of dryarroyos, all gradually trending toward the Platte, --the drainage systemof the frontier. Five miles out began the ascent to the taller dividesand ridges that gradually, and with many an intervening dip, rose to thewatershed between the Platte and the score of tiny tributaries thatunited to form the South Cheyenne. It was over Moccasin, or Ten Mile, Ridge, as it was often called, and close to the now abandoned stageroad, Ray's daring little command had disappeared from view toward eighto'clock. It was at least two, possibly three, miles east of thestage-road that the solitary courier had first been sighted, and whenlater seen by the major and certain others of the swift gatheringspectators, he was heading for Frayne, though still far east of thehighroad. 

And now Mrs. Ray, on the north piazza, with Webb by her side and NannieBlake, Mrs. Dade and Esther in close attendance, was briefly telling themajor what she had seen up stream. One glance through Sandy's glass hadtold her the little fellow had not watched in vain. 

Then, with the ready binocular, she had turned to the Indian encampmentup the Platte, and almost instantly saw signs of commotion, --squaws andchildren running about, ponies running away and Indian boys pursuing. Then, one after another, three Indians, --warriors, presumably, --hadlashed away northward and she had sent Sandy on the run to tell themajor, even while keeping watch on this threatening three until theyshot behind a long, low ridge that stretched southward from thefoothills. Beyond doubt they were off in hopes of bagging that solitaryhorseman, speeding with warning of some kind for the shelter of FortFrayne. 

By this time there must have been nearly two hundred men, women andchildren lining the crest of the bluff, and speaking in low, tensevoices when they spoke at all, and straining their eyes for the nextsight of the coming courier or the swift dash of the intercepting Sioux. Well out now, and riding at the gallop, Blake and his half dozen, widelyseparating so as to cover much of the ground, were still in view, andDade and his officers breathed more freely. "See what a distance thosebeggars of Stabber's will have to ride, " said the veteran captain to thelittle group about him. "They dare not cross that ridge short of threemiles out. It's my belief they'll see Blake and never cross at all. "

Then up rose a sudden shout. "There he is!" "There he comes!" "See!""See!" and fifty hands pointed eagerly northeastward where a littleblack dot had suddenly popped into view out of some friendly, windingwatercourse, four miles still away, at least count, and far to the rightand front of Blake's easternmost trooper. Every glass was instantlybrought to bear upon the swiftly coming rider, Sandy's shrill youngvoice ringing out from the upper window. "It isn't one of papa's men. His horse is a gray!" Who then could it be? and what could it mean, thiscoming of a strange courier from a direction so far to the east of thetravelled road? Another moment and up rose another shout. "Look!"--"There they are!" "Sioux for certain!" And from behind a littleknob or knoll on the meridian ridge three other black dots had sweptinto view and were shooting eastward down the gradual slope. Anothermoment and they were swallowed up behind still another low divide, butin that moment they had seen and been seen by the westernmost of Blake'smen, and now, one after another as the signals swept from the left, theseven swerved. Their line of direction had been west of north. Now, riding like mad, they veered to the northeast, and a grand race was onbetween the hidden three and the would-be rescuers;--all heading forthat part of the low-rolling prairie where the lone courier might nextbe expected to come into view;--friends and foes alike, unconscious ofthe fact that, following one of those crooked arroyos with its stiff andprecipitous banks, he had been turned from his true course full threequarters of a mile, and now, with a longer run, but a clear field ahead, was steering straight for Frayne. 

Thus the interest of the on-lookers at the bluff became divided. Womenwith straining eyes gazed at the lonely courier, and then fearfullyscanned the ridge line between him and the northward sky; praying withwhite lips for his safety; dreading with sinking hearts that at anymoment those savage riders should come darting over the divide andswooping down upon their helpless prey. Men, with eyes that snapped andfists that clinched, or fingers that seemed twitching with mad desire toclasp pistol butt or sabre hilt, or loud barking carbine, ran in sheernervous frenzy up and down the bluffs, staring only at Blake'sfar-distant riders, swinging their hats and waving them on, praying onlyfor another sight of the Sioux in front of the envied seven, and cravingwith all their soldier hearts to share in the fight almost sure tofollow. On the Rays' piazza, with pallid face and quivering lips, EstherDade clung to her mother's side. Mrs. Ray had encircled with her arm theslender waist of Nannie Blake, whose eyes never for an instant quittheir gaze after the swift-speeding dots across the distant prairie. Allher world was there in one tall, vehement horseman. Other troopers, mounting at the stables, had spurred away under Captain Gregg, and weresplashing through the ford. Other denizens of Fort Frayne, hearing ofthe excitement, came hurrying to the bluff, hangers-on from the trader'sstore and corral, the shopman himself, even the bar-keeper in his whitejacket and apron; two or three panting, low-muttering halfbreeds, theireyes aflame, their teeth gleaming in their excitement; then Hay himself, and with him, --her dark face almost livid, her hair disordered and lipsrigid and almost purple, with deep lines at the corners of hermouth, --Nanette Flower. Who that saw could ever forget her as she forcedher way through the crowd and stood at the very brink, saying never aword, but swiftly focussing her ready glasses? Hardly had she reachedthe spot when wild, sudden, exultant, a cheer burst fiercely from thelips of the throng. "Look!" "Look!" "By God, they've got 'em!" yelledman after man, in mad excitement. Three black dots had suddenly sweptinto view, well to the right of Blake's men, and came whirling downgrade straight for the lone courier on the gray. Theirs had been theshort side, ours the long diagonal of the race. Theirs was the race, perhaps, but not the prize, for he had turned up far from the expectedpoint. Still they had him, if only, --if only those infernal troopersfailed to see them. There was their hope! Plainly in view of the highbluff at the fort, they were yet hidden by a wave of the prairie fromsight of the interceptors, still heading for the ridge the warriors hadjust left behind. Only for a second or two, however. A yell of fiercerejoicing went up from the crowd on the bluff as the easternmost ofBlake's black specks was seen suddenly to check, then to launch outagain, no longer to the north, but straight to his right, followedalmost immediately by every one of the seven. Then, too, swerved thewould-be slayers, in long, graceful circles, away from the wrath tocome. And, while the unconscious courier still rode, steadily lopingtoward the desired refuge, away for the breaks and ravines of theSleeping Bear lashed the thwarted Sioux, --away in hopeless stern chasespurred the pursuers, and while women sobbed and laughed and screamed, and men danced and shouted and swore with delight, one dark face, livid, fearsome, turned back from the bluff, and Dr. Tracy, hastening to theside of his enchantress, caught, in amaze, these words, almost hissedbetween set and grinding teeth. 

"Seven to three--Shame!"

CHAPTER VIII

MORE STRANGE DISCOVERIES

But Frayne was far from done with excitement for the day. For a whileall eyes seemed centred on the chase, now scattered miles toward theeast, and, save for two of the number left behind, blown, spent andhopelessly out of the race, soon lost to view among the distant swalesand ravines. Then everyone turned to welcome the coming harbinger, tocongratulate him on his escape, to demand the reason for his daringessay. Gregg and his men were first to reach him, and while one of themwas seen through the levelled glasses to dismount and give the courierhis fresh horse, thereby showing that the gray was well nigh exhausted, the whole party turned slowly toward the post. Then one of their numbersuddenly darted forth from the group and came spurring at top speedstraight for the ford. 

"That means news of importance, " said Webb, at the instant. "And Greggand all of his squad are coming in, --not following Blake. That means heand they are more needed elsewhere. Come on, Mr. Ross. We'll go down andmeet that fellow. Orderly, have my horse sent to the ford. " So, followedby three or four of the younger officers, --the married men beingrestrained, as a rule, by protesting voices, close at hand, --thecommanding officer went slipping and sliding down a narrow, windingpathway, a mere goat track, many of the soldiers following at respectfuldistance, while all the rest of the gathered throng remained at thecrest, eagerly, almost breathlessly awaiting the result. They saw thetrooper come speeding in across the flats from the northeast; saw as hereached the "bench" that he was spurring hard; heard, even at thedistance, the swift batter of hoofs upon the resounding sod; couldalmost hear the fierce panting of the racing steed; saw horse and ridercome plunging down the bank and into the stream, and shoving breast deepthrough the foaming waters; then issue, dripping, on the hither shore, where, turning loose his horse, the soldier leaped from saddle andsaluted his commander. But only those about the major heard the stirringmessage:

"Captain Gregg's compliments, sir. It's Rudge from the Dry Fork. Sergeant Kelly feared that Kennedy hadn't got through, for most of LameWolf's people pulled away from the Fork yesterday morning, coming thisway, and the sergeant thought it was to unite with Stabber to surroundany small command that might be sent ahead from here. Rudge was orderedto make a wide sweep to the east, so as to get around them, and that'swhat took him so long. He left not two hours after Kennedy. "

[Illustration: "THE SOLDIER LEAPED FROM HIS SADDLE. "]

In spite of his years of frontier service and training in self control, Webb felt, and others saw, that his face was paling. Ray, with onlyfifty men at his back, was now out of sight--out of reach--of the post, and probably face to face with, if not already surrounded by, thecombined forces of the Sioux. Not a second did he hesitate. Among theswarm that had followed him was a young trumpeter of "K" Troop, recklessof the fact that he should be at barracks, packing his kit. As luckwould have it, there at his back hung the brazen clarion, held by itsyellow braid and cord. "Boots and Saddles, Kerry, Quick!" ordered themajor, and as the ringing notes re-echoed from bluff and building walland came laughing back from the distant crags at the south, the littlethrong at the bank and the crowd at the point of the bluff had scatteredlike startled coveys, --the men full run for the barracks and stables, never stopping to "reason why. "

Nearly half an hour later, gray-haired Captain Dade stood at the pointof bluff near the flagstaff, Esther, pale and tearful, by his side, waving adieu and Godspeed to Webb, who had halted in saddle on reachingthe opposite bank and was watching his little column through theford, --three stanch troops, each about sixty strong, reinforced by halfa dozen of Ray's men left behind in the forward rush at dawn, butscorning disqualification of any kind now that danger menaced theirbeloved captain and their comrades of the sorrel troop. In all theregiment no man was loved by the rank and file as was Billy Ray. Brilliant soldiers, gifted officers, sterling men were many of hiscomrades, but ever since he first joined the ----th on the heels of thecivil war, more than any one of its commissioned list, Ray had beenidentified with every stirring scout and campaign, fight or incident inthe regimental history. Truscott, Blake, Hunter and Gregg among thejunior captains had all had their tours of detached duty--instructing atWest Point, recruiting in the big Eastern cities, serving asaide-de-camp to some general officer, but of Ray it could be said he hadhardly been east of the Missouri from the day he joined until hiswedding day, and only rarely and briefly since that time. More than anyofficer had he been prominent in scout after scout--Arizona, Mexico, Texas, the Indian Territory, Kansas, Colorado, Nebraska, Wyoming, theDakotas, Montana, even parts of Idaho and Utah he knew as he used toknow the roads and runways of the blue grass region of his native state. From the British line to the Gulfs of Mexico and California he hadstudied the West. The regiment was his home, his intense pride, and itsmen had been his comrades and brothers. The veterans trusted and sworeby, the younger troopers looked up to and well nigh worshipped him, andnow, as the story that the Sioux had probably surrounded the sorreltroop went like wild fire through the garrison, even the sick inhospital begged to be allowed to go, and one poor lad, frantic throughfever and enforced confinement, broke from the hold of the half-heartedattendant; tore over to "K" Troop barracks, demanding his "kit" ofSergeant Schreiber, and, finding the quarters deserted, the men all goneto stables, dared to burst into that magnate's own room in search of hisarms and clothing, and thereby roused a heavily sleeping soldier, whodamned him savagely until, through wild raving, he gathered that somegrave danger menaced Captain Ray. Even his befuddled senses couldfathom that! And while guards and nurses bore the patient, shrieking andstruggling, back to hospital, Kennedy soused his hot head in the coolingwaters of their frontier lavatory and was off like a shot to thestables. 

It was long before he found his horse, for the guard had taken Kilmaineto "F" Troop's stables, and Kennedy had been housed by "K. " It waslonger still before he could persuade the guard that he "had a right, "as he put it, to ride after the major. Not until Captain Dade had beenconsulted would they let him go. Not, indeed, until in person Kennedyhad pleaded his cause with that cool-headed commander. Dade noted theflushed and swollen face, but reasoned that nothing would more speedilyshake the whiskey from his system than a long gallop in that gloriousair and sunshine. "Major Webb is following the trail of Captain Ray, "said he. "You follow the major's. You can't miss him, and there are nomore Indians now to interpose. You should catch him by noon--then givehim this. "

"This" was a copy of a late despatch just in from Laramie, saying thatthe revolt had reached the Sioux at the agencies and reservations on theWhite Earth, and would demand the attention of every man at the post. Noreinforcement, therefore, could be looked for from that quarter untilthe general came. It was no surprise to Dade. It could be none to Webb, for old Red Cloud had ever been an enemy, even when bribed and pettedand fed and coddled in his village on the Wakpa Schicha. His nephew ledthe bolt afield. No wonder the old war chief backed him with abundantfood, ammunition and eager warriors sent "from home. "

But it was after eleven when Kennedy drove his still wearied horsethrough the Platte and, far to the north, saw the dun dust cloud thattold where Webb's little column was trotting hard to the support of thesorrels. His head was aching and he missed the morning draught ofsoldier coffee. He had eaten nothing since his cold lunch at themajor's, and would have been wise had he gone to Mistress McGann andbegged a cup of the fragrant Java with which she had stimulated herdocile master ere he rode forth, but the one idea uppermost in Kennedy'smuddled brain was that the sorrels were trapped by the Sioux and everytrooper was needed to save them. At three in the morning he felt equalto fighting the whole Sioux nation, with all its dozen tribes anddialects. At 3:30 he had been whipped to a stand by just one of theirnumber, and, "Mother av Moses, " one that spoke English as well, or asill, as any man in the ----th. 

Sore in soul and body was Kennedy, and sore and stiff was his gallantbay, Kilmaine, when these comrades of over three years' service shookthe spray of the Platte from their legs and started doggedly northwardon the trail. Northward they went for full three miles, Kilmaine sulkyand protesting. The dust cloud was only partially visible now, hidden bythe ridge a few miles ahead, when, over that very ridge, probably fourmiles away to the right front, Kennedy saw coming at speed a singlerider, and reined to the northeast to meet him. Blake and his men hadgone far in that direction. Two of their number, with horses too slowfor a chase after nimble ponies, had, as we have seen, drifted back, andjoined, unprepared though they were for the field, the rear of Webb'scolumn. But now came another, not aiming for Webb, but heading forFrayne. It meant news from the chase that might be important. It wouldtake him but little from the direct line to the north, why not meet himand hear? Kennedy reined to the right, riding slowly now and seeking thehigher level from which he could command the better view. 

At last they neared each other, the little Irish veteran, sore-headedand in evil mood, and a big, wild-eyed, scare-faced trooper new to thefrontier, spurring homeward with panic in every feature, but rejoicingat sight of a comrade soldier. 

"Git back; git back!" he began to shout, as soon as he got withinhailing distance. "There's a million Indians just over the ridge. They've got the captain----"

"What captain?" yelled Kennedy, all ablaze at the instant. "Spake up, yeshiverin' loon!"

"Blake! He got way ahead of us----"

"Then it's to him you should be runnin', not home, ye cur! Turn aboutnow! Turn about or I'll----" And in a fury Pat had seized the other'srein, and, spurring savagely at Kilmaine, --both horses instantly waking, as though responsive to the wrath and fervor of their little master, --hefairly whirled the big trooper around and, despite fearsome protests, bore him onward toward the ridge, swift questioning as they rode. Howcame they to send a raw rookie on such a quest? Why, the rookie gaspedin explanation that he was on stable guard, and the captain took thefirst six men in sight. How happened it that the captain got so farahead of him? There was no keepin' up with the captain. He was on hisbig, raw-boned race horse, chasin' three Indians that was firin' and hadhit Meisner, but there was still three of the troop to follow him, andthe captain ordered "come ahead, " until all of a sudden, as they filedround a little knoll, the three Indians they'd been chasin' turned aboutand let 'em have it, and down went another horse, and Corporal Feeneywas killed sure, and he, the poor young rookie, saw Indians in everydirection, "comin' straight at 'em, " and what else could he do butgallop for home--and help? All this, told with much gasping on his part, and heard with much blasphemy by Kennedy, brought the strangely assortedpair at swift gallop over the springy turf back along the line of thatpanicky, yet most natural retreat. Twice would the big fellow havebroken away and again spurred for home, but the little game cock heldhim savagely to his work and so, together, at last they neared thecurtaining ridge. "Now, damn you!" howled Kennedy, "whip out yourcarbine and play you're a man till we see what's in front! an' if yeplay false, the first shot from this barker, " with a slap at the butt ofhis Springfield, "goes through your heart. "

And this was what they saw as, together, they rounded the hillock andcame in view of the low ground beyond. 

Half way down the long, gradual slope, in a shallow little dip, possiblyan old buffalo wallow, two or three horses were sprawled, and a tinytongue of flame and blue smoke spitting from over the broad, brown backstold that someone, at least, was on the alert and defensive. Out on theprairie, three hundred yards beyond, a spotted Indian pony, heels up, was rolling on the turf, evidently sorely wounded. Behind this rollingparapet crouched a feathered warrior, and farther still away, sweepingand circling on their mettlesome steeds, three more savage braves weredarting at speed. Already they had sighted the coming reinforcements, and while two seemed frantically signalling toward the northwest, thethird whirled his horse and sped madly away in that direction. 

"Millions, be damned!" yelled Kennedy. "There's only three. Come on, yescut!" And down they went, full tilt at the Sioux, yet heading to coverand reach the beleaguered party in the hollow. Someone of the besiegedwaved a hat on high. Two more carbines barked their defiance at thefeathered foe, and then came a pretty exhibit of savage daring anddevotion. Disdainful of the coming troopers and of the swift fire nowblazing at them from the pit, the two mounted warriors lashed theirponies to mad gallop and bore down straight for their imperilledbrother, crouching behind the stricken "pinto. " Never swerving, neverhalting, hardly checking speed, but bending low over and behind theirchargers' necks, the two young braves swept onward and with wild whoopof triumph, challenge and hatred, gathered up and slung behind the riderof the heavier pony the agile and bedizened form on the turf; thencircled away, defiant, taunting, gleeful, yes and even more:--Withraging eyes, Kennedy sprang from saddle and, kneeling, drove shot aftershot at the scurrying pair. Two of the three troopers at the hollowfollowed suit. Even the big, blubbering lad so lately crazed with fearunslung his weapon and fired thrice into empty space, and a shout ofwrath and renewed challenge to "come back and fight it out" rang outafter the Sioux, for to the amaze of the lately besieged, to theimpotent fury of the Irishman, in unmistakable, yet mostly unquotable, English, the crippled warrior was yelling mingled threat andimprecation. 

"Who was it, Kennedy?--and where did you ever see him before?" a momentlater, demanded Captain Blake, almost before he could grasp theIrishman's hands and shower his thanks, and even while stanching theflow of blood from a furrow along his sun-burnt cheek. "What's that hesaid about eating your heart?"

And Kennedy, his head cleared now through the rapture of battle, mindedhim of his promise to Field, and lied like a hero. "Sure, how should Iknow him, sorr? They're all of the same spit. "

"But, he called you by name. I heard him plainly. So did Meisner, here, "protested Blake. "Hello, what have you there, corporal?" he added, asyoung Feeney, the "surely killed, " came running back, bearing in hishand a gaily ornamented pouch of buckskin, with long fringes and heavycrusting of brilliant beads. 

"Picked it up by that pony yonder, sir, " answered the corporal, with asalute. "Beg pardon, sir, but will the captain take my horse? His is hittoo bad to carry him. "

Two, indeed, of Blake's horses were crippled, and it was high time to begoing. Mechanically he took the pouch and tied it to his waist belt. "Thank God no _man_ is hurt!" he said. "But--now back to Frayne! Watchthose ridges and be ready if a feather shows, and spread out alittle--Don't ride in a bunch. "

But there was bigger game miles to the west, demanding all the attentionof the gathered Sioux. There were none to spare to send so far, andthough three warriors, --one of them raging and clamoring for furtherattempt despite his wounds, --hovered about the retiring party, Blake andhis fellows within another hour were in sight of the sheltering walls ofFrayne; and, after a last, long-range swapping of shots, with Blake andMeisner footing it most of the way, led their crippled mounts in safetytoward that Rubicon of the West--the swift flowing Platte. They werestill three miles out when Blake found leisure to examine the contentsof that beaded pouch, and the first thing drawn from its depths wasabout the last a Christian would think to find in the wallet of aSioux--a dainty little billet, scented with wood violet, --an envelope ofdelicate texture, containing a missive on paper to match, and theenvelope was addressed in a strange, angular, characteristic hand thatBlake recognized at once, to a man of whom, by that name at least, hehad never heard before:

 "MR. RALPH MOREAU, "_En Ville. _"

CHAPTER IX

BAD NEWS FROM THE FRONT

It might well be imagined that a man returning from such a morning'swork as had been Blake's could be excused from duty the rest of the day. He and his little party had had a spirited running fight of severalhours with an evasive and most exasperating trio of warriors, bettermounted for swift work than were the troopers. He had managed eventuallyto bring down one of the Indians who lingered a little too long withinshort range of the carbines, but it was the pony, not the rider, thatthey killed. Meanwhile other Indians had appeared on distant divides, and one feathered brave had galloped down to meet his comrades, and firea few shots at the pursuing pale faces. But at no time, until near theirsupports and far from the fort, had the Sioux halted for a hand to handfight, and Blake's long experience on the frontier had stood him in goodstead. He saw they were playing for one of two results;--either to lurehim and his fellows in the heat of pursuit far round to the northwest, where were the united hundreds of Lame Wolf and Stabber stalking thatbigger game, or else to tempt Blake himself so far ahead of his fellowsas to enable them to suddenly whirl about, cut him off, and, three onone, finish him then and there; then speed away in frenzied delight, possessors of a long-coveted scalp. 

They well knew Blake, --almost as well as they did Ray. Many a year hehad fought them through the summer and fed them through the winter. They, their squaws and pappooses, had fattened on his bounty when thesnows were deep and deer were gone, and their abundant rations had beenfeasted or gambled away. Many of their number liked him well, but nowthey were at the war game again, and, business is business with theaborigines. Blake was a "big chief, " and he who could wear at his beltthe scalp of so prominent a pale face leader would be envied among hispeople. "Long Legs, " as they called him, however, was no fool. Brave andzealous as he was, Blake was not rash. He well knew that unless he andhis few men kept together they would simply play into the hands of theIndians. It would have been easy for him, with his big racer, tooutstrip his little party and close with the Sioux. Only one of thetroopers had a horse that could keep pace with Pyramus, but nothing hecould gain by such a proceeding would warrant the desperate risk. Matchless as we have reason to believe our men, we cannot so believe ourmounts. Unmatched would better describe them. Meisner's horse might haverun with the captain's, until crippled by the bullets of the Sioux, butBent's and Flannigan's were heavy and slow, and so it resulted that thepursuit, though determined, was not so dangerous to the enemy but thatthey were able to keenly enjoy it, until the swift coming of Kennedyand his captive comrade turned the odds against them, for then two ofBlake's horses had given out through wounds and weakness, and they hadthe pursuers indeed "in a hole. "

That relief came none too soon. Blake and his fellows had been broughtto a stand; but now the Sioux sped away out of range; the crippled partylimped slowly back to the shelter of Frayne, reaching the post longhours after their spirited start, only to find the women and children, at least, in an agony of dread and excitement, and even Dade and hisdevoted men looking grave and disturbed. Unless all indications failed, Ray and his people must have been having the fight of their lives. Twocouriers had galloped back from Moccasin Ridge to say that Major Webb'sscouts could faintly hear the sound of rapid firing far ahead, and that, through the glass, at least a dozen dead horses or ponies could be seenscattered over the long slope to the Elk Tooth range, miles further on. Webb had pushed forward to Ray's support, and Blake, calling for freshhorses for himself and two of his men, bade the latter get food andfield kits and be ready to follow him. Then he hastened to join hisdevoted young wife, waiting with Mrs. Ray upon the piazza. Dade, who hadmet him at the ford, had still much to tell and even more to hear; butat sight of those two pale, anxious faces, lifted his cap and called outcheerily, "I hand him over to you, Mrs. Blake, and will see him later, "then turned and went to his own doorway, and took Esther's slender formin his strong arms and kissed the white brow and strove to think ofsomething reassuring to say, and never thought to ask Blake what he hadin that fine Indian tobacco pouch swinging there at his belt, for whichneglect the tall captain was more than grateful. It was a woman'sletter, as we know, and that, he argued, should be dealt with only in awoman's way. 

Sorely puzzled as Blake had been by the discovery, he had been able onthe long homeward march, --walking until in sight of Frayne and safety, then galloping ahead on the corporal's horse, --to think it out, as hesaid, in several ways. Miss Flower had frequently ridden up the valleyand visited the Indian village across the Platte. Miss Flower mighteasily have dropped that note, and some squaw, picking it up, hadsurrendered it to the first red man who demanded it, such being thedomestic discipline of the savage. The Indian kept it, as he would anyother treasure trove for which he had no use, in hopes of reward for itsreturn, said Blake. It was queer, of course, that the Indian in whosepouch it was found should have been so fluent a speaker of English, yetmany a Sioux knew enough of our tongue to swear volubly and talk tenwords of vengeance to come. There were several ways, as Blake reasoned, by which that letter might have got into the hands of the enemy. But atany rate, with everything said, it was a woman's letter. He had no rightto read it. He would first confide in his wife, and, if she said so, inMrs. Ray. Then what they decided should decide him. 

But now came a new problem. Despite the long morning of peril and chaseand excitement, there was still much more ahead. His men were in saddle;his troop was afield; the foe was in force on the road to the north; thebattle, mayhap, was on at the very moment, and Frayne and home was noplace for him when duty called at the distant front. Only, there wasNan, silent, tremulous, to be sure, and with such a world of piteousdread and pleading in her beautiful eyes. It was hard to have to tellher he must go again and at once, hard to have to bid her help him inhis hurried preparations, when she longed to throw herself in his armsand be comforted. He tried to smile as he entered the gate, and therebycracked the brittle, sun-dried court plaster with which a sergeant hadpatched his cheek at the stables. The would-be glad-some grin startedthe blood again, and it trickled down and splashed on his breast wherepoor Nan longed to pillow her bonny head, and the sight of it, despiteher years of frontier training, made her sick and faint. He caught herin his left arm, laughing gayly, and drew her to the other side. "Gotthe mate to that scoop of Billy's, " he cried, holding forth his otherhand to Mrs. Ray. "'Tisn't so deep, perhaps, but 'twill serve, 'twilldo, and I'll crow over him to-night. Come in with us, Mrs. Ray. I--I'vesomething to show you. "

"One minute, " said that wise young matron. "Let me tell the childrenwhere to find me. Sandy and Billy are on post at the telescope. Theywouldn't leave it even for luncheon. " With that she vanished, andhusband and wife were alone. 

"You must go, Gerald, " she sobbed--"I know it, but--isn't there _some_way?--Won't Captain Dade send more men with you?"

"If he did, Nan, they'd only hamper me with horses that drag behind. Bebrave, little woman. Webb has swept the way clear by this time! Come, Ineed your help. "

And the door closed on the soldier and his young wife. They never sawthat Nanette Flower, in saddle, was riding swiftly up the row, and, forthe first time since her coming to Frayne, without an escort. Dadereappeared upon his front gallery in time to greet her, but Esther, after one quick glance, had darted again within. Dade saw unerringlythat Miss Flower was in no placid frame of mind. Her cheeks were pale;her mouth had that livid look that robbed her face of all beauty; buther eyes were full and flashing with excitement. 

"What news, captain?" she hailed, and the joyous, silvery ring had gonefrom her voice. "They tell me Captain Blake is back--two horsescrippled, two men hit, including himself. "

"His own share is a scratch he wouldn't think of mentioning outside thefamily, Miss Flower, " answered Dade, with grim civility. He had hisreasons for disapproving of the young woman; yet they were not such aswarranted him in showing her the least discourtesy. He walked to hisgate and met her at the curb beyond and stood stroking the arching neckof her spirited horse--"Harney" again. 

"Did they--were there any Indians--killed?" she asked, with anxietyscarcely veiled. 

"Oh, they downed one of them, " answered the captain, eying her closelythe while and speaking with much precision, "a fellow who cursed themfreely in fluent English. " Yes, she was surely turning paler. --"A bold, bad customer, from all accounts. Blake thought he must be of Lame Wolf'sfellows, because he--seemed to know Kennedy so well and to hate him. Kennedy has only just come down from Fort Beecher, where Wolf's peoplehave been at mischief. "

"But what became of him? What did they do with him?" interrupted thegirl, her lips quivering in spite of herself. 

"Oh, --left him, I suppose, " answered the veteran, with deliberatedesign. "What else could they do? There was no time for ceremony. Hisfellow savages, you know, can attend to that. "

For a moment she sat there rigid, her black eyes staring straight intothe imperturbable face of the old soldier. No one had ever accused Dadeof cruelty or unkindness to man or woman, especially to woman; yet herehe stood before this suffering girl and, with obvious intent, picturedto her mind's eye a warrior stricken and left unburied or uncared for onthe field. Whatever his reasons, he stabbed and meant to stab, and forjust one moment she seemed almost to droop and reel in saddle; then, with splendid rally, straightened up again, her eyes flashing, her lipcurling in scorn, and with one brief, emphatic phrase ended theinterview and, whirling Harney about, smote him sharply with her whip, and darted away:--

"True!" said she. "Civilized warfare!"

"If that girl isn't more than half savage, " said Dade, to himself, asHarney tore away out of the garrison on the road to the ford, "I am morethan half Sioux. Oh, for news of Ray!"

Ray indeed! It was now nearly four o'clock. Telegrams had been comingand going over the Laramie wire. "The Chief, " as they called theirgeneral, with only one of his staff in attendance, had reached Cheyenneon time, and, quitting the train, declining dinner at the hotel andhaving but a word or two with the "Platform Club, "--the little bevy ofofficers from Fort Russell whose custom it was to see the westboundtrain through almost every day--had started straightway for Laramiebehind the swiftest team owned by the quartermaster's department, whileanother, in relay, awaited him at the Chugwater nearly fifty miles out. Driving steadily through the starlit night, he should reach the oldfrontier fort by dawn at the latest, and what news would Dade have tosend him there? Not a word had he uttered to either the officers whorespectfully greeted, or reporters who eagerly importuned, him as to thesituation at Frayne; but men who had served with him in Arizona and onthe Yellowstone many a year before, knew well that grave tidings hadreached him. Dade had, in fact, supplemented Webb's parting despatchwith another saying that Blake's little party, returning, had just beensighted through the telescope nine miles out, with two men afoot. Butnot until the general reached Lodge Pole Creek did the message meet him, saying that Webb's advance guard could hear the distant attack on Ray. Not until he reached the Chugwater in the early night could he hope tohear the result. 

It was nightfall when the awful suspense of the garrison at Frayne waseven measurably lifted. Blake, with three troopers at his back, had thenbeen gone an hour, and was lost in the gloaming before Dr. Tracy'sorderly, with a face that plainly told the nervous tension of his twohours' ride, left his reeking, heaving horse at the stables and climbedthe steep path to the flagstaff, the shortest way to the quarters of thecommanding officer. Despite the gathering darkness, he had been seen bya dozen eager watchers and was deluged with questions by trembling, tearful women and by grave, anxious men. 

"There's been a fight; that's all I know, " he said. "I was with the packmules and the ambulances and didn't get to see it. All I saw was deadponies way out beyond Ten Mile Ridge. Where's the major?--I mean thecaptain?" No! the orderly didn't know who was killed or wounded, or thatanybody was killed and wounded. All he knew was that Dr. Tracy camegalloping back and ordered the ambulances to scoot for the front and himto spur every bit of the way back to Frayne with the note for CaptainDade. 

All this was told as he eagerly pushed his way along the board walk;soldiers' wives hanging on his words and almost on him; officers' wivesand daughters calling from the galleries or running to the gates, andDade heard the hubbub almost as quickly as did Esther, who hurried tothe door. By the light of the hall lamp the commander read the pencilledsuperscription of the gummed envelope and the word "Immediate" at thecorner. The same light fell on a dozen anxious, pleading faces beyondthe steps. His hand shook in spite of himself, and he knew he could notopen and read it in their presence. "One moment, " he said, his heartgoing out to them in sympathy as well as dread. "You shall hear in onemoment, " and turned aside into the little army parlor. 

But he could not turn from his wife and child. They followed and stoodstudying his pale face as he read the fateful words that told so little, yet so much:--

 Reached Ray just in time. Sharp affair. Dr. Waller will have to come at once, as Tracy goes on with us to rescue stage people at Dry Fork. Better send infantry escort and all hospital attendants that can be possibly spared; also chaplain. Sergeants Burroughs and Wing, Corporal Foot and Troopers Denny, Flood, Kerrigan and Preusser killed. Many wounded--Lieutenant Field seriously. 

 WEBB. 

CHAPTER X

"I'LL NEVER GO BACK"

A sharp affair indeed was that of this September day!--a fight longtalked of on the frontier if soon forgotten in "the States. " Obedient tohis orders to push to the relief of the imperilled party on the DryFork, Ray had made good time to Moccasin Ridge, even though savinghorses and men for the test of the later hours. Well he knew his marchwould be watched by some of Stabber's band, but little did he dream atstarting that Indian strategy would take the unusual form of droppingwhat promised to be a sure thing, leaving the people at the stagestation to the guardianship of less than a dozen braves, and launchingout with a big band to aid a little one in attack on one lone detachmentthat might not come at all. But Lame Wolf reasoned that the peoplepenned at the stage station were in no condition to attempt escape. Theywere safe whenever he chose to return to them, and Lame Wolf knew thisof Stabber--that he had long been a hanger-on about the militaryreservations, that he had made a study of the methods of the whitechiefs, that he was able to almost accurately predict what their coursewould be in such event as this, and that Stabber had recently receivedaccessions whose boast it was that they had information at first hand ofthe white chief's plans and intentions. Stabber had sent swift runnersto Lame Wolf urging him to bring his warriors to aid him in surroundingthe first troops sent forth from Frayne. Stabber had noted, year afteryear, that it was the almost invariable policy of our leaders to order asmall force at the start, and then, when that was crushed, to follow itwith the big one that should have been sent in the first place. Kennedy's successful coming was known to Stabber quite as soon as it wasto Webb. It may well be that Stabber let him through, feeling confidentwhat the result would be, and then, despite a certain jealousy, notconfined entirely to savage rival leaders, Lame Wolf had confidence inStabber's judgment. Ray had expected long range flank fire, and possiblyoccasional resistance in front; but, assured of Stabber's paucity innumbers and believing Lame Wolf too busy to send Stabber substantialaid, he thought a sharp lesson or two would clear his front of suchIndians as sought to check him, and so rode serenely forward, rejoicingin his mission and in his game and devoted little command. 

"Something beyond that second ridge, " he had said to Field, in sendinghim forward with the bulk of the platoon, and Field, who had been silentand brooding, woke at the summons and, all animation at the scent ofdanger, spurred swiftly ahead to join the advance and see for himselfwhat manner of hindrance awaited them, leaving the baker's dozen of hisplatoon to trot steadily on under lead of its sergeant, while Ray, withhis trumpeter, followed mid way between his advance and Clayton'splatoon, intact, moving quietly at the walk and held in reserve. 

Ordinarily Ray would himself have ridden to the far front and personallyinvestigated the conditions, but he was anxious that Field shouldunderstand he held the full confidence of his temporary commander. Hewished Field to realize that now he had opportunity for honorabledistinction, and a chance to show what was in him and, having sent himforward, Ray meant to rely on his reports and be ready to back, ifpossible, his dispositions. Nothing so quickly demolishes prejudice ingarrison as prowess in the field. Not infrequently has an officer goneforth under a cloud and returned under a crown. It is so much easier tobe a hero in a single fight than a model soldier through an entireseason--at least it was so in the old days. 

But the moment Mr. Field dismounted and, leaving his horse with theothers along the slope, had gone crouching to the crest, he levelled hisglasses for one look, then turned excitedly and began rapid signals tohis followers. Presently a young trooper came charging down, makingstraight for Ray. "The lieutenant's compliments, " said he, "but there'sa dozen Sioux in sight, and he wishes to know shall he charge. "

A dozen Sioux in sight! That was unusual. Ordinarily the Indian keeps inhiding, lurking behind sheltering crests and ridges in the open country, or the trees and underbrush where such cover is possible. A dozen insight?

"How far ahead, Murray?" asked the captain, as he shook free his reinand started forward at the gallop. "Did you see them yourself?"

"Yes, sir. Most of 'em were bunched by the roadside, jabbing with theirlances at something or other. Two or three were closer in. They must ha'been watching us, for they only quit the ridge just before we came up. Then they skedaddled. " The vernacular of the civil war days, long sinceforgotten except about the few Veteran Soldiers' Homes in the East, wasstill in use at times in regiments like the ----th, which had served thefour years through with the Army of the Potomac. Old sergeants give thetone to younger soldiers in all the customs of the service. The captainand the two men now with him had caught up with Field's swift trottingsupport by this time, and the eyes of the men kindled instantly at sightof their leader speeding easily by, cool, confident and as thoroughly athome as though it were the most ordinary skirmish drill. Those who havenever tried it, do not quite realize what it means to ride in closedranks and compact column, silent and unswerving, straight forward overopen fields toward some equally silent crest, that gives no sign ofhostile occupancy, and yet may suddenly blaze with vengeful fires andspit its hissing lead into the faces of the advancing force. Even herewhere the ridge was already gained by two or three of the advance, proving, therefore, that the enemy could not be in possession, men sawby the excitement manifest in the signals of the lieutenant, and indeedof Sergeant Scott, who had spent fifteen years in the ranks, thatIndians must be close at hand. The crest was barely five hundred yardsin front of the section, and they were still "bunched, " a splendid markif the foe saw fit by sudden dash to regain the ridge and pour in rapidfire from their magazine rifles. Every ward of the nation, as a rule, had his Winchester or Henry, --about a six to one advantage to the redmen over the sworn soldier of the government in a short range fight. Thelieutenant was a brave lad and all that, and could be relied on to "dohis share in a shindy, " as the sergeant put it, but when it came tohandling the troop to the best advantage, giving them full swing whenthey met the foe on even terms and a fair field, but holding them clearof possible ambuscade, then "Captain Billy is the boss in the business, "was the estimate of his men, and every heart beat higher at sight ofhim. He would know just what to do for them, and knowing, would do it. 

Even as he went loping by Ray had half turned, with something like asmile in his dark eyes and a nod of his curly head to the sergeantcommanding, and a gesture of the gauntleted hand, --a horizontal sweep toright and left, twice repeated, --had given the veteran his cue, and withanother moment Winsor had the dozen in line at open, yet narrow, intervals, with carbines advanced and ready for business. They saw theircaptain ride swiftly up the gentle slope until close to the crest, thenoff he sprang, tossed his reins to the trumpeter and went hurryingafoot to join the lieutenant. They saw him kneeling as though to levelhis glasses and look fixedly forward; saw Field run back to his horseand mount in a twinkling; saw him whirl about as though coming to placehimself at their head, yet rein in at once--his charger's fore feetploughing the turf at some word from their leader. Field was eager tocharge, but Ray had seen for himself and for his men, and Ray said, no. Another moment and all at the front were again in saddle--Field backwith the advance, Ray coolly seated astride his pet sorrel, --scouting asecond ridge, far to the north, with his glasses, and sending, asbefore, Scott and his three troopers straight on to the front, andsignalling to the flankers to continue the move. Ten seconds' study ofthe position in the long, wide, shallow depression before him hadfathomed the scheme of the savage. The little knot of Indians, jabbering, yelping, prodding and circling about some unseen object onthe turf, feigning ignorance of the soldiers' coming, was at theold-time trick to get the foremost troopers to charge and chase, to drawthem on in all the dash and excitement of the moment, far ahead--threemiles, perhaps--of the main body, and so enable all the lurking bandbehind that second curtain, the farther ridge, to come swooping down tosurround, overwhelm and butcher the luckless few, then be off to safedistance long before the mass of the troop could possibly reach thescene. 

"No you don't, Stabber!" laughed Ray, as Field, not a little chagrined, and the dozen at his back, came trotting within hearing distance. "Thatdodge was bald-headed when I was a baby. Look, Field, " he continued. "They were jabbing at nothing there on the prairie. That was a fakecaptive they were stabbing to death. See them all scooting away now. They'll rally beyond that next ridge, and we'll do a little fooling ofour own. "

And so, with occasional peep at feathered warriors on the far leftflank, and frequent hoverings of small parties on the distant front, Ray's nervy half hundred pushed steadily on. Two experiments hadsatisfied the Sioux that the captain himself was in command and they hadlong since recognized the sorrels. They knew of old Ray was not to becaught by time-worn tricks. They had failed to pick off the advance, orthe officers, as the troop approached the second ridge. Lame Wolf's bigband was coming fast, but only a dozen of his warriors, sent lashingforward, had as yet reached Stabber. The latter was too weak in numbersto think of fighting on even terms, and as Ray seemed determined to comeahead, why not let him? Word was sent to Wolf not to risk showing southof the Elk Tooth spur. There in the breaks and ravines would be a famousplace to lie in ambush, leaving to Stabber the duty of drawing thesoldiers into the net. So there in the breaks they waited while Ray'slong skirmish line easily manoeuvred the red sharp-shooters out of theirlair on the middle divide. Then, reforming column, the little commandbore straight away for the Elk. 

But all these diversions took time. Twenty miles to the north of Fraynestretched the bold divide between the Elk Fork, dry as a dead tooth muchof the year, and the sandy bottom of the Box Elder. Here and therealong the ridge were sudden, moundlike upheavals that gave it apicturesque, castellated effect, for, unlike the general run of thecountry, the Elk Tooth seemed to have a backbone of rock that shot forthsoutheastward from the southern limit of the beautiful Big Horn range;and, in two or three places, during some prehistoric convulsion ofnature, it had crushed itself out of shape and forced upward a mass ofgleaming rock that even in the course of centuries had not beenovergrown with grass. "Elk teeth" the Indians had called these oddprojections, and one of them, the middle one of the three mostprominent, was a landmark seen for many a mile except to the south andwest. Eagle Butte was the only point south of the Big Horn and in thevalley of the Platte from which it could be seen, and famous were thesetwo points in the old days of the frontier for the beacon fires thatburned or the mirror signals that flashed on their summits when the warparties of the Sioux were afield. 

It was the sight of puffs of smoke sailing skyward from the crest of themiddle tooth that caught Ray's attention the moment he reached thesecond ridge. A moment more had been devoted to recalling some of hiseager men who, from the extreme right of the swinging skirmish line, hadbroken away in pursuit of certain intentional laggards. Then a dozen ofthe Indians, finding themselves no longer followed, gathered atcomparatively safe distance across the prairie, and, while in eagerconsultation, found time for taunting, challenging and occasionallyfiring at the distant and angering troopers, whom Sergeant Scott hadsharply ordered back, and Ray, after calm survey of these fellowsthrough his glass, had then levelled it at the trio of buttes along thedistant ridge and turned to Field, sitting silent and disappointed byhis side. 

"There, Field, " said the captain. "Take this glass and look at thosesignal smokes--Stabber has more men now at his call than he had when hestarted, and more yet are coming. They were just praying you wouldcharge with a handful of men. They would have let you through, thenclosed around and cut you off. Do you see, boy?"

Field touched his hat brim. "You know them best, sir, " was the briefanswer. "What I wanted was a chance at those fellows hanging about ourfront and calling us names. "

"You'll get it, I'm thinking, before we're an hour older. They knowwhither we're bound and mean to delay us all they can. Ah, Clayton, " headded, as the junior lieutenant rode up to join them, while his platoondismounted to reset saddles behind the screen of the skirmish line. "Menlook full of fight, don't they? There, if anywhere, is where we'll getit. I've just been showing Field those signal smokes. Mount and followwhen we're half way down to that clump of cottonwoods yonder. We mustreach those people at the stage station to-night, and I may have to givethese beggars a lesson first. Watch for my signal and come ahead livelyif I turn toward you and swing my hat. All ready, Field. Shove ahead. "

And this was the last conference between the three officers thateventful morning. As once again the advance guard pushed cautiouslyforward toward the banks of the arroyo in the bottom, Ray turned toField. "Skirmish work suits you better than office duty, Field. You lookfar livelier than you did yesterday. Don't you begin to see that themajor was right in sending you out with us?" And the dark eyes of thetrained and experienced soldier shone kindly into the face of theyounger man. 

"I'm glad to be with you, Captain Ray, " was the prompt answer. "Itisn't--my being sent, but the _way_ I was sent, or the--cause for whichI was sent that stings me. I thought then, and I think now, that if youhad been post commander it wouldn't have been done. I don't know yetwhat charge has been laid at my door----"

"There was no time to talk of reasons, Field, " interposed Ray, thoughhis keen eyes were fixed on the distant ridge ahead, beyond which thelast of the Indians had now disappeared. The outermost troopers, withSergeant Scott, were within a few hundred yards of the little clump ofcottonwoods that marked the site of a water hole. To the right and leftof it curved and twisted the dry water course between its low, jagged, precipitous banks. Behind the advance, full four hundred yards, rode theskirmish line from the first platoon, a dozen strong. Far out to theeast and west the flankers moved steadily northward, keenly watching theslopes beyond them and scanning the crooked line of the arroyo ahead. Not a sign at the moment could be seen of the painted foe, yet every manin the troop well knew they swarmed by dozens behind the buttes andridges ahead. Ray and Field, riding easily along in rear of the line, with only the trumpeter within earshot, relaxed in no measure thevigilance demanded by the situation, yet each was deeply concerned inthe subject of the talk. 

"There was no time. We had to start at once, " continued Ray. "Wait untilyou are back at the old desk, Field, and you'll find the major is, andwas, your stanch friend in this matter--"

"I'll never go back to it, captain!" broke in Field, impetuously. "Ifordered to resume duty as adjutant, come what may, I shall refuse. "

But before Ray could interpose again there came sudden and stirringinterruption. From a point far down the "swale, " from behind the lowbank of the stream bed, three rifle shots rang out on the crisp morningair. The horse of the leading flanker, away out to the right, reared andplunged violently, the rider seeming vainly to strive to check him. Almost instantly three mounted warriors were seen tearing madly awaynortheastward out of the gully, their feathers streaming in the wind. Field spurred away to join his men. Ray whirled about in saddle, andswung his broad-brimmed scouting hat high above his head, in signal toClayton; then shouted to Field. "Forward to the cottonwoods. Gallop!" hecried. "We need them first of all!"

CHAPTER XI

A FIGHT WITH A FURY

The noonday sun was staring hotly down, an hour later, on a stirringpicture of frontier warfare, with that clump of cottonwoods as thecentral feature. Well for Ray's half hundred, that brilliant autumnmorning, that their leader had had so many a year of Indian campaigning!He now seemed to know by instinct every scheme of his savage foe and toact accordingly. Ever since the command had come in sight of the ElkTooth the conviction had been growing on Ray that Stabber must havereceived many accessions and was counting on the speedy coming ofothers. The signal smokes across the wide valley; the frequent essays totempt his advance guard to charge and chase; the boldness with which theIndians showed on front and flank; the daring pertinacity with whichthey clung to the stream bed for the sake of a few shots at the foremosttroopers, relying, evidently, on the array of their comrades beyond theridge to overwhelm any force that gave close pursuit; the fact thatother Indians opened on the advance guard and the left flankers, andthat a dozen, at least, tore away out of the sandy arroyo the momentthey saw the line start at the gallop;--all these had tended to convincethe captain that, now at last, when he was miles from home and succor, the Sioux stood ready in abundant force to give him desperate battle. 

To dart on in chase of the three warriors would simply result in thescattering of his own people and their being individually cut off andstricken down by circling swarms of their red foes. To gather his menand attempt to force the passage of the Elk Tooth ridge meant certaindestruction of the whole command. The Sioux would be only to glad toscurry away from their front and let them through, and then in bigcircle whirl all about him, pouring in a concentric fire that would besure to hit some, at least, exposed as they would be on the openprairie, while their return shots, radiating wildly at the swift-dartingwarriors, would be almost as sure to miss. He would soon be weighteddown with wounded, refusing to leave them to be butchered; unable, therefore, to move in any direction, and so compelled to keep up ashelterless, hopeless fight until, one by one, he and his gallantfellows fell, pierced by Indian lead, and sacrificed to the scalpingknife as were Custer's three hundred a decade before. 

No, Ray knew too much of frontier strategy to be so caught. There stoodthe little grove of dingy green, a prairie fortress, if one knew how touse it. There in the sand of the stream bed, by digging, were they sureto find water for the wounded, if wounded there had to be. There by theaid of a few hastily thrown intrenchments he could have a little plainsfort and be ready to repel even an attack in force. Horses could beherded in the depths of the sandy shallows. Men could be distributed inbig circle through the trees and along the bank; and, with abundantrations in their haversacks and water to be had for the digging, theycould hold out like heroes until relief should come from the south. 

Obviously, therefore, the cottonwood grove was the place, and thither atthundering charge Field led the foremost line, while Ray waved on thesecond, all hands cheering with glee at sight of the Sioux dartingwildly away up the northward slope. Ten men in line, far extended, weresent right forward half way across the flats, ordered to drive theIndians from the bottom and cripple as many as possible; but, if menacedby superior numbers, to fall back at the gallop, keeping well away fromthe front of the grove, so that the fire of its garrison might not be"masked. " The ten had darted after the scurrying warriors, full half wayto the beginning of the slope, and then, just as Ray had predicted, downcame a cloud of brilliant foemen, seeking to swallow the little tenalive. Instantly their sergeant leader whirled them about and, pointingthe way, led them in wide circle, horses well in hand, back to the drywash, then down into its sandy depths. Here every trooper sprang fromsaddle, and with the rein looped on the left arm, and from the shelterof the straight, stiff banks, opened sharp fire on their pursuers, justas Clayton's platoon, dismounting at the grove, sprang to the nearestcover and joined in the fierce clamor of carbines. Racing down theslope at top speed as were the Sioux, they could not all at once checkthe way of their nimble mounts, and the ardor of the chase had carriedthem far down to the flats before the fierce crackle began. Then it wasthrilling to watch them, veering, circling, sweeping to right or left, ever at furious gallop, throwing their lithe, painted bodies behindtheir chargers' necks, clinging with one leg and arm, barely showing somuch as an eyelid, yet yelping and screeching like so many coyotes, notone of their number coming within four hundred yards of the slenderfighting line in the stream bed; some of them, indeed, disdaining tostoop, riding defiantly along the front, firing wildly as they rode, yetsurely and gradually guiding their ponies back to the higher ground, back out of harm's way; and, in five minutes from the time they hadflashed into view, coming charging over the mile away ridge, not a redwarrior was left on the low ground, --only three or four luckless ponies, kicking in their last struggles or stiffening on the turf, while theirriders, wounded or unhurt, had been picked up and spirited away with themarvellous skill only known to these warriors of the plains. 

Then Ray and his men had time to breathe and shout laughing comment andcongratulation. Not one, as yet, was hit or hurt. They were secure forthe time in a strong position, and had signally whipped off the firstassault of the Sioux. 

Loudly, excitedly, angrily these latter were now conferring again farup the slope to the north. At least an hundred in one concourse, theywere having hot discussion over the untoward result of the dash. Others, obedient to orders from the chief, were circling far out to east andwest and crossing the valley above and below the position of thedefence. Others, still, were galloping back to the ridge, where, againstthe sky line, strong bodies of warriors could be plainly seen, movingexcitedly to and fro. Two little groups slowly making their way to thecrest gave no little comfort to the boys in blue. Some, at least, of thecharging force had been made to feel the bite of the cavalry weapon, andwere being borne to the rear. 

But no time was to be wasted. Already from far up the stream bed two orthree Indians were hazarding long-range shots at the grove, and Rayordered all horses into a bend of the "wash, " where the side lines werewhipped from the blanket straps and the excited sorrels securelyhoppled. Then, here, there and in a score of places along the bank andagain at the edge of the cottonwoods, men had been assigned theirstations and bidden to find cover for themselves without delay. Manyburrowed in the soft and yielding soil, throwing the earth forward infront of them. Others utilized fallen trees or branches. Some two orthree piled saddles and blanket rolls into a low barricade, and all, while crouching about their work, watched the feathered warriors as theysteadily completed their big circle far out on the prairie. Bullets camewhistling now fast and frequently, nipping off leaves and twigs andcausing many a fellow to duck instinctively and to look about him, ashamed of his dodge, yet sure of the fact that time had been in thedays of the most hardened veteran of the troop when he, too, knew whatit was to shrink from the whistle of hostile lead. It would be but amoment or two, they all understood, before the foe would decide on thenext move; then every man would be needed. 

Meantime, having stationed Field on the north front, with orders to noteevery movement of the Sioux, and having assigned Clayton to the minorduty of watching the south front and the flanks, Ray was moving cheerilyamong his men, speeding from cover to cover, suggesting here, helpingthere, alert, even joyous in manner. "We couldn't have a better roost, lads, " he said. "We can stand off double their number easy. We can holdout a week if need be, but you bet the major will be reaching out afterus before we're two days older. Don't waste your shots. Coax them closein. Don't fire at a galloping Indian beyond three hundred yards. It'swaste of powder and lead. "

Cheerily, joyously they answered him, these his comrades, his soldierchildren, men who had fought with him, many of their number, in a dozenfields, and men who would stand by him, their dark-eyed little captain, to the last. Even the youngest trooper of the fifty seemed inspired bythe easy, laughing confidence of the lighter hearts among their number, or the grim, matter of fact pugnacity of the older campaigners. It wassignificant, too, that the Indians seemed so divided in mind as to thenext move. There was loud wrangling and much disputation going on inthat savage council to the north. Stabber's braves and Lame Wolf'sfollowers seemed bitterly at odds, for old hands in the fast-growingrifle pits pointed out on one side as many as half a dozen of theformer's warriors whom they recognized and knew by sight, while Ray, studying the shifting concourse through his glasses, could easily seeStabber himself raging among them in violent altercation with a tall, superbly built and bedizened young brave, a sub-chief, apparently, whofor his part, seemed giving Stabber as good as he got. Lame Wolf was notin sight at all. He might still be far from the scene, and this tallwarrior be acting as his representative. But whoever or whatever he washe had hearty following. More than three-fourths of the wranglingwarriors in the group seemed backing him. Ray, after a few words toSergeant Winsor, crawled over beside his silent and absorbed youngsecond in command, and, bringing his glasses to bear, gazed across a lowparapet of sand long and fixedly at the turbulent throng a thousandyards away. 

"It's easy to make out Stabber, " he presently spoke. "One can almosthear that foghorn voice of his. But who the mischief is that red villainopposing him? I've seen every one of their chiefs in the last fiveyears. All are men of forty or more. This fellow can't be a big chief. He looks long years younger than most of 'em, old Lame Wolf, forinstance, yet he's cheeking Stabber as if he owned the whole outfit. "Another long stare, then again--"Who the mischief can he be?"

No answer at his side, and Ray, with the lenses still at his eyes, tookno note for the moment that Field remained so silent. Out at the frontthe excitement increased. Out through the veil of surging warriors, theloud-voiced, impetuous brave twice burst his way, and seemed at one andthe same time, in his superb poise and gesturings, to be urging theentire body to join him in instant assault on the troops, and hurlingtaunt and anathema on the besieged. Whoever he was, he was in averitable fury. As many as half of the Indians seemed utterly carriedaway by his fiery words, and with much shouting and gesticulation andbrandishing of gun and lance, were yelling approbation of his views andurging Stabber's people to join them. More furious language followed andmuch dashing about of excited ponies. 

"Have you ever seen that fellow before?" demanded Ray, of brown-eyedSergeant Winsor, who had spent a lifetime on the plains, but Winsor wasplainly puzzled. 

"I can't say for the life of me, sir, " was the answer. "I don't know himat all--and yet--"

"Whoever he is, by Jove, " said Ray, "he's a bigger man this day thanStabber, for he's winning the fight. Now, if he only leads the dash ashe does the debate, we can pick him off. Who are our best shots on thisfront?" and eagerly he scanned the few faces near him. "Webber's tiptopand good for anything under five hundred yards when he isn't excited, and Stoltz, he's a keen, cool one. No! not you, Hogan, " laughed thecommander, as a freckled faced veteran popped his head up over a nearbyparapet of sand, and grinned his desire to be included. 

"I've never seen the time you could hit what you aimed at. Slip out ofthat hole and find Webber and tell him to come here--and you take hisburrow. " Whereupon Hogan, grinning rueful acquiescence in hiscommander's criticism, slid backwards into the stream bed and, followedby the chaff of the three or four comrades near enough to catch thewords, went crouching from post to post in search of the desiredmarksman. 

"You used to be pretty sure with the carbine in the Tonto Basin when wewere after Apaches, sergeant, " continued Ray, again peering through theglasses. "I'm mistaken in this fellow if he doesn't ride well withinrange, and we must make an example of him. I want four first class shotsto single him out. "

"The lieutenant can beat the best I ever did, sir, " said Winsor, with alift of the hand toward the hat brim, as though in apology, for Field, silent throughout the brief conference, had half risen on his hands andknees and was edging over to the left, apparently seeking to reach theshelter of a little hummock close to the bank. 

"Why, surely, Field, " was the quick reply, as Ray turned toward hisjunior. "That will make it complete. "

[Illustration: "WITH ONE MAGNIFICENT RED ARM UPLIFTED. "]

But a frantic burst of yells and war whoops out at the front put suddenstop to the words. The throng of warriors that had pressed so closeabout Stabber and the opposing orator seemed all in an instant to splitasunder, and with trailing war bonnet and followed by only two or threeof his braves, the former lashed his way westward and swept angrily outof the ruck and went circling away toward the crest, while, with loudacclamation, brandishing shield and lance and rifle in superb barbarictableau, the warriors lined up in front of the victorious young leaderwho, sitting high in his stirrups, with one magnificent red armuplifted, began shouting in the sonorous tongue of the Sioux some urgentinstructions. Down from the distant crest came other braves as though tomeet and ask Stabber explanation of his strange quitting the field. Downcame a dozen others, young braves mad for battle, eager to join theranks of this new leader, and Ray, who had turned on Field once more, fixed his glasses on that stalwart, nearly stark naked, brilliantlypainted form, foremost of the Indian array and now at last in full andunimpeded view. 

"By the gods of war!" he cried. "I never saw that scoundrel before, butif it isn't that renegade Red Fox--Why, here, Field! Take my glass andlook. You were with the commissioners' escort last year at the BlackHills council. You must have seen him and heard him speak. Isn't thisRed Fox himself?"

And to Ray's surprise the young officer's eyes were averted, his facepale and troubled, and the answer was a mere mumble--"I didn't meetFox--there, captain. "

He never seemed to see the glass held out to him until Ray almost thrustit into his hand and then persisted with his inquiry. 

"Look at him anyhow. You may have seen him somewhere. Isn't that RedFox?"

And now Ray was gazing straight at Field's half hidden face. Field, thesoul of frankness hitherto, the lad who was never known to flinch fromthe eyes of any man, but to answer such challenge with his own, --brave, fearless, sometimes even defiant. Now he kept the big binocular fixed onthe distant hostile array, but his face was white, his hand unsteady andhis answer, when it came, was in a voice that Ray heard in mingled painand wonderment. Could it be that the lad was unnerved by the sight? Inany event, he seemed utterly unlike himself. 

"I--cannot say, sir. It was dark--or night at all events, --the only timeI ever heard him. "

CHAPTER XII

THE ORDEAL BY FIRE

That action had been resolved upon, and prompt action, was now apparent. Stabber, fighting chief though he had been in the past, had had hisreason for opposing the plans of this new and vehement leader; butpublic sentiment, stirred by vehement oratory, had overruled him, and hehad bolted the field convention in a fury. Lame Wolf, a younger chiefthan Stabber, had yet more power among the Ogalallas, being Red Cloud'sfavorite nephew, and among the Indians at least, his acknowledgedrepresentative. Whenever called to account, however, for that nephew'sdeeds, the wary old statesman promptly disavowed them. It was in searchof Lame Wolf, reasoned Ray, that Stabber had sped away, possibly hopingto induce him to call off his followers. It was probably the deeperstrategy of Stabber to oppose no obstacle to Ray's advance until thelittle troop was beyond the Elk Tooth ridge, where, on utterlyshelterless ground, the Indian would have every advantage. He knew Rayof old; knew well that, left to himself, the captain would push on inthe effort to rescue the stage people and he and his command mightpractically be at the mercy of the Sioux, if only the Sioux wouldlisten and be patient. Stabber knew that to attack the troopers nowentrenching at the cottonwoods meant a desperate fight in which theIndians, even if ultimately triumphant, must lose many a valued brave, and that is not the thoroughbred Indian's view of good generalship. Stabber was old, wily and wise. The new chief, whoever he might be, seemed possessed of a mad lust for instant battle, coupled with apossible fear that, unless the golden moment were seized, Ray might bereinforced and could then defy them all. Indeed there were veterancampaigners among the troopers who noted how often the tall red chiefpointed in sweeping gesture back to Moccasin Ridge--troopers who even atthe distance caught and interpreted a few of his words. "That's it, sir, " said Winsor, confidently to Ray. "He says 'more soldiers coming, 'and--I believe he knows. "

At all events he had so convinced his fellows and, even before Stabberreached the middle tooth--where sat a little knot of mounted Indians, signalling apparently to others still some distance to the north, --witha chorus of exultant yells, the long, gaudy, glittering line of bravessuddenly scattered and, lashing away to right and left, dozens of themdarted at top speed to join those already disposed about that bigcircle, while others still, the main body, probably seventy strong, after some barbaric show of circus evolutions about their leader, oncemore reined up for some final injunctions from his lips. Then, with amagnificent gesture of the hand, he waved them on and, accompanied byonly two young riders, rode swiftly away to a little swell of theprairie just out of range of the carbines, and there took his station tosupervise the attack. 

"Damn him!" growled old Winsor. "He's no charger like Crazy Horse. He'sa Sitting Bull breed of general--like some we had in Virginia, " headded, between his set teeth, but Ray heard and grinned in silentappreciation. "Set your sights and give 'em their first volley as theyreach that scorched line, " he called to the men along the northwardfront, and pointed to a stretch of prairie where the dry grass hadlately been burned away. "Five hundred yards will do it. Then aim lowwhen they rush closer in. "

"Look at the middle tooth, captain, " came the sudden hail from his left. "Mirror flashes! See!" It was Field who spoke, and life and vim hadreturned to his voice and color to his face. He was pointing eagerlytoward the highest of the knobs, where, all on a sudden, dazzling littlebeams of light shot forth toward the Indians in the lowlands, tippingthe war bonnet and lance of many a brave with dancing fire. Whatevertheir purport, the signals seemed ignored by the Sioux, for presentlytwo riders came sweeping down the long slope, straight for the pointwhere sat Red Fox, as, for want of other name, we must for the presentcall him--who, for his part, shading his eyes with his hand, sat gazingtoward the westward side of his warrior circle, evidently awaiting somedemonstration there before giving signal for action elsewhere. Obedientto his first instructions, the main body had spread out in long, irregular skirmish rank, their mettlesome ponies capering and dancing intheir eagerness. Chanting in chorus some shrill, weird song, the linewas now slowly, steadily advancing, still too far away to warrant thewasting of a shot, yet unmistakably seeking to close as much as possiblebefore bursting in with the final charge. 

[Illustration: "SOME FEW OF THEIR NUMBER BORNE AWAY BY THEIR COMRADES. "]

And still the red leader sat at gaze, oblivious for the moment ofeverything around him, ignoring the coming of orders possibly from LameWolf himself. Suddenly the silver armlets once more gleamed on high. Then, clapping the palm of his right hand to his mouth, Red Fox gavevoice to a ringing war whoop, fierce, savage and exultant, and, almostat the instant, like the boom and rumble that follows some vividlightning flash, the prairie woke and trembled to the thunder of near athousand hoofs. From every point of the compass--from every side, yelling like fiends of some orthodox hell, down they came--the wildwarriors of the frontier in furious rush upon the silent and almostpeaceful covert of this little band of brothers in the dusty garb ofblue. One, two, three hundred yards they came, centering on the leafyclump of cottonwoods, riding at tearing gallop, erect, defiant, daringat the start, and giving full voice to their wild war cry. Then bendingforward, then crouching low, then flattening out like hunted squirrel, for as the foremost in the dash came thundering on within good carbinerange, all on a sudden the watch dogs of the little plains fort began tobark. Tiny jets of flame and smoke shot from the level of theprairie, from over dingy mounds of sand, from behind the trunks ofstunted trees, from low parapet of log or leather. Then the entire groveseemed veiling itself in a drifting film of blue, the whole chargingcircle to crown itself with a dun cloud of dust that swept eastward overthe prairie, driven by the stiff, unhampered breeze. The welkin rangwith savage yell, with answering cheer, with the sputter and crackle ofrifle and revolver, the loud bellow of Springfield, and then, stillyelping, the feathered riders veered and circled, ever at magnificentspeed, each man for himself, apparently, yet all guided and controlledby some unseen, yet acknowledged, power; and, in five minutes, savewhere some hapless pony lay quivering and kicking on the turf, the lowground close at hand was swept clean of horse or man. The wild attackhad been made in vain. The Sioux were scampering back, convinced, butnot discomfited. Some few of their number, borne away stunned andbleeding by comrade hands from underneath their stricken chargers, --somethree or four, perhaps, who had dared too much, --were now closing theireyes on the last fight of their savage lives. 

To Ray and to many of his men it was all an old story. Stabber wouldnever have counselled or permitted attack on seasoned troopers, fightingbehind even improvised shelter. Something, perhaps, had occurred toblind his younger rival to the peril of such assault, and now, as threeor four little parties were seen slowly drifting away toward the ridge, burdened by some helpless form, other couriers came thundering down atRed Fox, and wild excitement prevailed among the Elk Teeth. More signalswere flashing. More Indians came popping into view, their featheredbonnets streaming in the rising wind, and about the prairie wave, wherethe savage general had established field headquarters, a furiousconference was going on. Stabber had again interposed, and with grim buthopeful eyes, Ray and his fellows watched and noted. Every lull in thefight was so much gain for them. 

"Twelve fifty-two, " said the dark-eyed commander, swinging his watchinto the pocket of his hunting shirt, and sliding backward into thestream bed. "All serene so far. Watch things on this front, Field, whileI make the rounds and see how we came out. "

"All serene so far" it was! Not a man hurt. Two of the sorrels had beenhit by flying bullets and much amazed and stung thereat, but neither wascrippled. Bidding their guards to dig for water that might soon beneeded, Ray once more made his way to the northward side and rejoinedField and Winsor. 

In an almost cloudless sky of steely blue the sun had just passed themeridian and was streaming hotly down on the stirring picture. Northwardthe ridge line and the long, gradual slope seemed alive with swarms ofIndian warriors, many of them darting about in wild commotion. About thelittle eminence where Stabber and the Fox had again locked horns inviolent altercation, as many as a hundred braves had gathered. About themiddle knob, from whose summit mirror flashes shot from time to time, was still another concourse, listening, apparently, to the admonitionsof a leader but recently arrived, a chieftain mounted on an Americanhorse, almost black, and Ray studied the pair long and curiously throughhis glasses. "Lame Wolf, probably, " said he, but the distance was toogreat to enable him to be certain. What puzzled him more than anythingwas the apparent division of authority, the unusual display of discordamong the Sioux. These were all, doubtless, of the Ogalalla tribe, RedCloud's own people, yet here were they wrangling like ward "heelers" andwasting precious time. Whatever his antecedents this new comer had beena powerful sower of strife and sedition, for, instead of followingimplicitly the counsels of one leader, the Indians were divided nowbetween three. 

True to its practice, the prairie wind was sweeping stronger andstronger with every moment, as the sun-warmed strata over the wide, billowing surface sought higher levels, and the denser, cooler currentfrom the west came rushing down. And now all sounds of the debate werewhisked away toward the breaks of the South Shyenne, [*] and it was nolonger possible for old Sioux campaigners to catch a word of thediscussion. The leaves of the cottonwoods whistled in the rising gale, and every time a pony crossed the stream bed and clambered the steepbanks out to the west, little clouds of dun-colored dust came sailingtoward the grove, scattered and spent, however, far from the lair of thedefence. 

[* Oddly enough, that method of spelling the river's name becameofficial. ]

But, while the discussion seemed endless among the Indians on thenorthward side, never for a moment was the vigilance of the circlerelaxed. South, east and west the slopes and lowlands were dotted withrestless horsemen, and from young Clayton came the word that through hisglass he could make out three or four warriors far away toward theMoccasin Ridge. "That's good, " said Ray. "It means they, too, arelooking for a column coming out from Frayne. But where on earth did allthese rascals come from? There must be four hundred now in sight. "

Well might he ask and marvel! Stabber's little village had never morethan fifty warriors. Lame Wolf's band was counted at less than twohundred and forty fighting men, and these, so said the agents of theomniscient Bureau, were all the Ogalallas away from the shelter of thereservation when the trouble started. No more should be allowed to go, was the confident promise, yet a fortnight nearly had elapsed since thefrontier fun began. News of battle sweeps with marvellous speed throughIndian haunted lands, and here were warriors by the score, come tostrengthen the hands of kindred in the field, and, more were coming. Themirror signals plainly told them that. Yet it was now well nigh oneo'clock and not another hostile move was made. Fox then was being heldby stronger hands. It meant that Lame Wolf had listened to reason, --andStabber, and would permit no fresh attack until his numbers should be soincreased that resistance would practically be vain. It meant evenmore--that the Indian leader in chief command felt sure no force wasyet within helping distance of the corralled troopers. He could, therefore, take his time. 

But this was a theory Ray would not whisper to his men. He knew Webb. Heknew Webb would soon read the signs from the north and be coming to hisrelief, and Ray was right. Even as he reasoned there came a message fromacross the grove. Lieutenant Clayton said the Indians he had seen awayto the south were racing back. "Thank God!" was the murmured answer noman heard. "Now, lads, be ready!" was the ringing word that roused thelittle troop, like bugle call "To Arms. " And even as eager faces liftedover the low parapets to scan the distant foe, fresh signals cameflashing down from the northward ridge, fresh bands of warriors camedarting to join the martial throng about the still wrangling chieftains, and then, all on a sudden, with mighty yelling and shrill commotion, that savage council burst asunder, and, riding at speed, a dozen braveswent lashing away to the westward side, while with fierce brandishing ofarms and shields and much curveting and prancing of excited ponies, thewild battle lines were formed again. The Sioux were coming for thesecond trial. 

"Meet them as before! Make every shot tell!" were the orders passed fromman to man and heard and noted amidst the whistling of the wind and thesounds of scurry and commotion at the front. Then, silent and crouchinglow, the soldiers shoved the brown barrels of their carbines forth againand waited. And then the grim silence of the little fortress wasbroken, as, with startling, sudden force there went up a shout from thewestward side:--

"My God, boys, they're setting fire to the prairie!"

Ray sprang to his feet and gazed. Away out to the west and southwest, whence came the strong breeze blowing from the Sweetwater Hills, half adozen dark, agile forms, bending low, were scudding afoot over thesward, and everywhere they moved there sprang up in their tracks littlesheets of lambent flame, little clouds of bluish, blinding smoke, andalmost in less time than it takes to tell it, a low wall of fire, started in a dozen places, reaching far across the low ground, fencingthe valley from stream bed to the southward slopes, crowned by itsswift-sailing crest of hot, stifling fume, came lapping and seething andsweeping across the level, licking up the dry buffalo grass like so muchtow, mounting higher and fiercer with every second, and bearing downupon the little grove and its almost helpless defenders in fearfulforce, in resistless fury--a charge no bullet could stop, an enemy nohuman valor could hope to daunt or down. 

"Quick, men!" yelled Ray. "Out with you, you on the west front! Stay youhere, you others! Watch the Sioux! They'll be on us in an instant!" Andaway he sped from the shelter of the bank, out from the thick of thecottonwoods, out to the open prairie, straight toward the coming torrentof flame still, thank God, full seven hundred yards away, but leapingtoward them with awful strides. Out with him rushed Field, and out fromClayton's front sped half a dozen old hands, every man fumbling for hismatch box; out until they had reached a line with their captain, alreadysprawled upon the turf, and there, full an hundred yards from the grove, they spread in rude skirmish line and, reckless of the mad chorus ofyells that came sweeping down the wind, reckless of the clamor of thecoming charge, reckless of the whistling lead that almost instantlybegan nipping and biting the turf about them, here, there andeverywhere, they, too, had started little fires; they, too had run theirline of flame across the windward front; they, too, had launched a wallof flame sailing toward the grove, and then, back through blinding smokethey ran for their saddle blankets, just as the sharp sputter of shotsburst forth on the northward side, and the Sioux, with magnificent dash, came thundering within range. 

Then followed a thrilling battle for life--two red enemies now enrolledagainst the blue. "Fight fire with fire" is the old rule of the prairie. Ray had promptly met the on-coming sweep of the torrent by starting asmaller blaze that should at least clear the surface close at hand, and, by eating off the fuel, stop, possibly, the progress of the greaterflame. 

But the minor blaze had also to be stopped lest it come snapping anddevouring within the grove. It is no easy matter to check a prairie fireagainst a prairie gale when every human aid is summoned. It is desperatework to try to check one when to the fires of nature are added thefurious blaze of hostile arms, every rifle sighted by savage, vengefulfoe. "Check it, lads, ten yards out!" shouted Ray, to his gallantfellows, now lost in the smoke, while he again rushed across the frontto meet the charging Sioux. With his brave young face all grime, Fieldwas already at work, guiding, urging, aiding his little band. "Bothhands! Both hands!" he cried, as, wielding his folded blanket, he smotethe fringe of flame. "Stamp it out! Great God! Wing, are you hit?"

For answer the sergeant by his side went plunging down, face foremost, and little Trooper Denny, rushing to aid his young officer in the effortto raise the stricken man, as suddenly loosed his hold and, togetheragain, these two sworn comrades of many a campaign lay side by side, asthey had lain in camp and bivouac all over the wide frontier, and poorDenny could only gasp a loyal word of warning to his officer. "Get back, sir; for God's sake, get back!" ere the life blood came gushing from hismouth. Bending low, Field grabbed the faithful fellow in his strong armsand, calling to the nearmost men to look to Wing, bore his helplessburden back through stifling smoke clouds; laid him on the turf at thefoot of a cottonwood, then ran again to the perilous work of fightingthe flame, stumbling midway over another prostrate form. "Both hands!Both hands!" he yelled as again his blanket whirled in air; and so, bydint of desperate work, the inner line of flame at last was stayed, butevery man of the gallant little squad of fire fighters had paid thepenalty of his devotion and felt the sting of hissing lead--Field thelast of all. Westward now, well nigh an hundred yards in width, a broad, black, smoking patch stretched across the pathway of the swift-comingwall of smoke and flame, a safeguard to the beleaguered command worthall the soldier sacrifice it cost. In grand and furious sweep, thescourge of the prairie sent its destroying line across the wide level tothe south of the sheltering grove, but in the blood and sweat of heroicmen the threatening flames of the windward side had sputtered out. Thelittle garrison was safe from one, at least, of its dread and mercilessfoes, though five of its best and bravest lay dead or dying, and othersstill sore stricken, in the midst of the smoking grove. 

"Field, old boy, " said Ray, with brimming eyes, as he knelt and claspedthe hand of the bleeding lad, while the Sioux fell back in wrath anddismay from the low-aimed, vengeful fire of the fighting line. "Thismeans the Medal of Honor for you, if word of mine can fetch it!"

CHAPTER XIII

WOUNDED--BODY AND SOUL

To say the Sioux were furious at the failure of their second attemptwould be putting it far too mildly. The fierce charge from the northwardside, made under cover of the blinding smoke sent drifting by the galeacross the level flats, had been pushed so close to the grove that twored braves and half a dozen ponies had met their death within sixtypaces of the rifle pits. There lay the bodies now, and the Indians darenot attempt to reach them. The dread, wind-driven flame of the prairiefire, planned by the Sioux to burn out the defence, to serve as theirally, had been turned to their grave detriment. 

Ray and his devoted men had stopped the sweep of so much of theconflagration as threatened their little stronghold, but, rangingunhampered elsewhere, the seething wall rolled on toward the east, spreading gradually toward its flanks, and so, not only consuming vastacres of bunch grass, but checking the attack that should have been madefrom the entire southern half of the Indian circle. Later, leaping thesandy stream bed a little to the west of the cottonwoods, it spread inwild career over a huge tract along the left bank, and now, reunitingwith the southern wing some distance down the valley, was roaring awayto the bluffs of the Mini Pusa, leaving death and desolation in itstrack. Miles to the east the war parties from the reservation, riding tojoin Lame Wolf, sighted the black curtain of smoke, swift sailing overthe prairie, and changed their course accordingly. Not so many milesaway to the south Webb's skirmishers, driving before them three or fourSioux scouts from the northward slope of the Moccasin Ridge, set spursto their horses and took the gallop, the main body following on. 

With their eyelids blistered by heat and smoke, Ray's silent, determinedlittle band could see nothing of the coming force, yet knew relief wasnigh; for, close at hand, both east and west, large bodies of the enemycould be seen swift riding away to the north. 

They had hoped, as "Fox" had planned and promised, to burn out andoverwhelm the little troop at the grove before the column from Fraynecould possibly reach the spot. They had even anticipated the probableeffort of the command to check the flames, and had told off some fiftybraves to open concentric fire on any party that should rush into theopen with that object in view. They had thought to send in such a stormof lead, even from long range, that it should daunt and drive back thosewho had dared the attempt. They had stormed indeed, but could neitherdaunt nor drive back. Ray's men had braved death itself in the desperateessay, and, even in dying, had won the day. 

But their losses had been cruel. Three killed outright; three dying andeight more or less severely wounded had reduced their fighting strengthto nearly thirty. The guards of the sorrels, herded in the stream bed, had all they could do to control the poor, frightened creatures, many ofthem hit, several of them felled, by the plunging fire from the farhillsides. Even though driven back, the Sioux never meant to give up thebattle. On every side, leaving their ponies at safe distance, by dozensthe warriors crawled forward, snake-like, to the edge of the burned andblackened surface, and from there poured in a rapid and most harassingfire, compelling the defence to lie flat or burrow further, and woundingmany horses. The half hour that followed the repulse of their grandassault had been sorely trying to the troop, for the wounded needed aid, more men were hit, and there was no chance whatever to hit back. Movingfrom point to point, Ray carried cheer and courage on every side, yetwas so constantly exposed as to cause his men fresh anxiety. Even as hewas bending over Field a bullet had nipped the right shoulderstrap, andlater another had torn through the crown of his campaign hat. In all theyears of their frontier fighting they had never known a hotter fire; butRay's voice rang out through the drifting vapor with the same old cheerand confidence. "They can't charge again till the ground cools off, " hecried. "By that time they'll have their hands full. See how they'rescudding away at the southward even now. Just keep covered and you'reall right. " And, barring a growl or two from favored old hands whosought to make the captain take his own medicine and himself keepcovered, the answer was full of cheer. 

And so they waited through the hot smoke and sunshine of the autumnafternoon, and, even while comforting the wounded with assurance ofcoming relief, kept vigilant watch on every hostile move, and at last, toward three o'clock, the sharp fire about them slackened away, thesmouldering roots of the bunch grass had burned themselves out. Thesmoke drifted away from the prairie, and, as the landscape cleared tothe south and west, a cheer of delight went up from the cottonwoods, forthe slopes three miles away were dotted here and there and everywherewith circling, scurrying war ponies--they and their wild riders steadilyfalling back before a long rank of disciplined horsemen, the extendedskirmish line of Webb's squadron, backed by supports at regularintervals, and all heading straight on for the broad lowlands of theElk. 

"Send six of your men over to the south front, sergeant, " were Ray'sorders to Winsor, as he hurried over to join Clayton again. "They maytry one final charge from that side, and give us a chance to empty a fewmore saddles. " Creeping and crouching through the timber the chosen menobeyed, and were assigned to stations under Clayton's eye. Theprecaution was wise indeed, for, just as the captain foresaw, a rally inforce began far out over the southward slopes, the Indians gathering ingreat numbers about some chieftain midway between the coming force andthe still beleaguered defenders of the grove. Then, brandishing lanceand shield and rifle, as before, they began spreading out across theprairie, heading now for the cottonwoods, while others still faced andfired on the far blue skirmish line. The fierce wind, sweeping acrossthe direction of the attack, deadened all sound of hoof or war chant, but there was no mistaking the signs, no doubt of the intent, when, in alittle moment more, the earth began to tremble beneath the dancing ponyfeet, telling, almost with the swiftness of sight, that the grandadvance had again begun. But other eyes were watching too. Othersoldiers, keen campaigners as these at the Elk, were there afield, andalmost at the moment the wild barbaric horde burst yelling into theireager gallop, and before the dust cloud hid the distant slopes beyond, the exultant shout went up from the captain's lips, as he threw down hisglass and grabbed his carbine. "It's all right, men! The major's comingat their heels. Now let 'em have it!"

In former days there had been scenes of wild rejoicing, sometimes ofdeep emotion, when relief came to some Indian-besieged detachment of theold regiment. Once, far to the south in the wild, romantic park countryof Colorado, a strong detachment had been corralled for days by anoverwhelming force of Utes. Their commander, --a dozen of their bestmen, --all the horses killed and many troopers sorely wounded. They hadbeen rescued at last by their skilled and gallant colonel, after a longand most scientific march by both night and day. Another time, stillfarther in their past, and yet within a dozen years, away down the broadvalley of the very stream of which this little Elk was a tributary, theCheyennes had hemmed in and sorely hammered two depleted troops thatowed their ultimate rescue to the daring of the very officer who socoolly, confidently headed the defence this day--to a night ride throughthe Indian lines that nearly cost him his brave young life, but thatbrought Captain Truscott with a fresh and powerful troop sweeping in totheir succor with the dawn. Then there had been men who strained othermen to their hearts and who shed tears like women, for gallant comradeshad bitten the dust in the desperate fighting of the day before, andhope itself had almost gone--with the ammunition of the beleagueredcommand. 

Now, with heavier losses than had befallen Wayne in '76, Ray's commandbeheld with almost tranquil hearts the coming of the fierce array infinal charge. Behind them, not two miles, to be sure, rode in swift, well-ordered pursuit the long line of comrade troopers. But there hadbeen intervening years of campaign experiences that dulled to a degreethe earlier enthusiasms of the soldier, and taught at least theassumption of professional composure that was the secret wonder of thesuckling trooper, and that became his chief ambition to acquire. It isone thing to charge home at a hard-fighting command when friends andcomrades back the effort and cheer the charging line. It is another tocharge home conscious that other chargers are coming at one's heels. Magnificent as a spectacle, therefore, this closing dash of Lame Wolf'swarriors was but a meek reminder of their earlier attack. Long beforethey came within four hundred yards of the leafy stronghold, --themoment, indeed, the brown Springfields began their spiteful bark, --toright and left the warriors veered, far out on either flank. Screechingand yelling as was their savage way, they tore madly by, flattened outagainst their ponies' necks and, those who could use their arms at all, pumping wild shots that whistled harmless over the heads of thedefenders and bit the blackened prairie many a rod beyond. Only jeersrewarded the stirring spectacle, --jeers and a few low-aimed, sputteringvolleys that brought other luckless ponies to their knees and sprawled afew red riders. But in less than five minutes from the warning cry thathailed their coming, Lame Wolf and his hosts were lining Elk Tooth ridgeand watching with burning hate and vengeful eyes the swift, steadyadvance of Webb's long blue fighting line, and the utter unconcern ofthe defence. Even before the relieving squadron was within carbine rangecertain of Ray's men had scrambled out upon the northward bank and, pushing forward upon the prairie, were possessing themselves of the armsand ornaments of the two dead warriors whom the Sioux had strived invain to reach and bear within their lines. Ray and Clayton at the momentwere strolling placidly forth upon the southward "bench" to receive andwelcome the little knot of comrades sent galloping in advance to greetthem. There was perhaps just a suspicion of exaggerated nonchalanceabout their gait and bearing--a regimental weakness, possibly--and noother officer save Lieutenant Field happened to be within earshot whenWinsor's voice on the other front was heard in hoarse command:

"Come back there, you fellows! Back or you're goners!"

The sight had proved too much for some of the Sioux. Down again atfurious speed came a scattered cloud of young braves, following the leadof the tall, magnificent chief who had been the hero of the earlierattack, --down into the low ground, never swerving or checking pace, straight for the grove, the three or four inquisitive blue-coats in themeantime scurrying for shelter; and the yell that went up at sight ofthe Indian dash and the quick reopening of the sputtering fire broughtRay, running once again to the northward edge of the timber, wonderingwhat could be amiss. Field was lying on his blanket, just under thebank, as the captain darted by, and grinned his gratification as heheard the brief, assuring words: "Webb's here--all hands with him. " Aninstant later a bullet whizzed through the roots of the old cottonwoodabove his head, and from far out afield, deadened by the rush of thewind, a dull crackle of shots told that something had recalled the Siouxto the attack, and for three minutes there was a lively fusillade allalong the northward side. Then it slowly died away, and other voices, close at hand, --someone speaking his name, --called the lad's attention. He was weak from loss of blood, and just a little dazed and flighty. Hehad meant three hours agone that when next he encountered his postcommander his manner should plainly show that senior that even a secondlieutenant had rights a major was bound to respect. But, only mistilynow, he saw bending over him the keen, soldierly features, --the kind, winsome gray eyes, filled with such a world of concern andsympathy, --and heard the deep, earnest tones of the voice he knew sowell, calling again his name and mingling cordial praise and anxiousinquiry, and all the rancor seemed to float away with the smoke of thelast carbine shots. He could only faintly return the pressure of thatfirm, muscular hand, only feebly smile his thanks and reassurance, andthen he, too, seemed floating away somewhere into space, and he couldnot manage to connect what Webb had been saying with the next words thatfastened on his truant senses. It must have been hours later, too, fordarkness had settled on the valley. A little fire was burning under theshelter of the bank. A little group of soldiers were chatting in lowtone, close at hand. Among them, his arm in a sling, stood a stockylittle chap whose face, seen in the flickering light, was familiar tohim. So was the eager brogue in which that little chap was speaking. Asteward was remonstrating, and only vaguely at first, Field grasped themeaning of his words:--

"The captain said you were not to try to follow, Kennedy, at least notuntil Dr. Waller saw you. Wait till he gets here. He can't be threemiles back now. "

"To hell wid ye!" was the vehement answer. "D'ye think I'd bemaundherin' here wid the whole command gone on afther thim bloody Sioux. I've made my mark on wan o' thim, an' he's the buck I'm afther. "

"He's made his mark on _you_, Kennedy, " broke in a soldier voice. "Youmad fool, trying to tackle a chief like that--even if he was hit, for hehad his whole gang behind him. "

"Sure he dared me out, an'--what's this he called me? a d----d whiskeythafe!--me that niver----"

"Oh, shut up, Kennedy, " laughed a brother Irishman. "You were full as agoat at 'K' Troop's stables--Where'd ye get the whiskey if----"

"I'll lay you, Lanigan, when I get two hands agin, though I misdoubt wanwould do it. It's me horse I want now and lave to go on wid the capt'n. Ready now, sir, " he added, with sudden change of tone and manner, for atall, slender form came striding into the fire light, and Field knewBlake at the instant, and would have called but for the first word fromthe captain's lips. 

"_Your_ heart's safe, Kennedy. I wish your head was. Your past master inblasphemy out there won't eat it, at all events. "

"Did ye get him, sorr, --afther all?"

"_I_ didn't. His English spoiled my aim. 'Twas Winsor shot him. Now, you're to stay here, you and Kilmaine. The doctor may bring despatches, and you follow us with the first to come. " An orderly had led forth asaddled horse, and Blake's foot was already in the stirrup. "They sayit was Red Fox himself, Kennedy, " he added. "Where on earth did you meethim before?"

"Shure, _I_ niver knew him, sorr, " was the quick reply, as Blake's long, lean leg swung over the big charger's back and the rider settled insaddle. 

"But he knew _you_ perfectly well. He dared you by name, when we closedon them--you and Mr. Field. "

And when an hour later the veteran surgeon came and knelt by the side ofthe young officer reported seriously wounded, and took his hand and felthis pulse, there was something in the situation that seemed to call forimmediate action. "We'll get you back to Frayne to-morrow, Field, " saidWaller, with kind intent. "Don't--worry now. "

"Don't do that, doctor, " feebly, surprisingly moaned the fevered lad. "Don't take me back to Frayne!"

CHAPTER XIV

A VANISHED HEROINE

Within forty-eight hours of the coming of Trooper Kennedy with his"rush" despatches to Fort Frayne, the actors in our little drama hadbecome widely separated. Webb and his sturdy squadron, including Ray andsuch of his troop as still had mounts and no serious wounds, weremarching straight on for the Dry Fork of the Powder. They were twohundred fighting men; and, although the Sioux had now three times thatmany, they had learned too much of the shooting powers of these seasonedtroopers, and deemed it wise to avoid close contact. The Indian fightswell, man for man, when fairly cornered, but at other times he is notrue sportsman. He asks for odds of ten to one, as when he wiped outCuster on the "Greasy Grass, " or Fetteman at Fort Phil Kearny, --as whenhe tackled the Gray Fox, --General Crook--on the Rosebud, and Sibley'slittle party among the pines of the Big Horn. Ray's plucky followers hadshot viciously and emptied far too many saddles for Indian equanimity. It might be well in any event to let Webb's squadron through and waitfor further accessions from the agencies at the southeast, or the big, turbulent bands of Uncapapas and Minneconjous at Standing Rock, or theCheyennes along the Yellowstone. 

So back went Lame Wolf and his braves, bearing Stabber with them, flitting northward again toward the glorious country beyond the"Chakadee, " and on went Webb, with Blake, Gregg, Ray and their juniors, with Tracy to take care of such as might be wounded on the way; and, later still, the old post surgeon reached the Elk with guards andhospital attendants, and on the morrow row began his homeward march withthe dead and wounded, --a sad and solemn little procession. Only twentymiles he had to go, but it took long hours, so few were the ambulances, so rough the crossings of the ravines; and, not until near nightfall wasthe last of the wounded, --Lieutenant Field, --borne in the arms ofpitying soldiers into the old post hospital, too far gone with fever, exhaustion and some strong mental excitement to know or care that hisstrange plea had been, perforce, disregarded;--to know or care laterthat the general himself, the commander they loved and trusted, wasbending over him at dawn the following day. Ordering forward allavailable troops from the line of the railway, "the Chief" had stoppedat Laramie only long enough for brief conference with the postcommander; then, bidding him come on with all his cavalry, had pushedahead for Frayne. It couldn't be a long campaign, perhaps, with winterclose at hand, but it would be a lively one. Of that the chief felt wellassured. 

Now, there was something uncanny about this outbreak on the part of theSioux, and the general was puzzled. Up to September the Indians had beenbusy with the annual hunt. They were fat, well-fed, prosperous, --had gotfrom the government pretty much everything that they could ask with anyshow of reason and, so they said, had been promised more. The rowsbetween the limited few of their young men and some bullies among the"rustlers" had been no more frequent nor serious than on previoussummers, when matters had been settled without resort to arms; but thisyear the very devil seemed to have got into the situation. Something, orprobably somebody, said the general, had been stirring the Indians up, exciting--exhorting possibly, and almost the first thing the general didas he climbed stiffly out of his stout Concord wagon, in the palingstarlight of the early morning, was to turn to Dade, now commanding thepost, and to say he should like, as soon as possible, to see Bill Hay. Meantime he wished to go in and look at the wounded. 

It was not yet five o'clock, but Dr. Waller was up and devoting himselfto the needs of his patients, and Dade had coffee ready for the generaland his single aide-de-camp, but not a sip would the general take untilhe had seen the stricken troopers. He knew Field by reputation, well andfavorably. He had intimately known Field's father in the old days, inthe old army, when they served together on the then wild Pacific shores"where rolls the Oregon. " The great civil war had divided them, forField had cast his soldier fortune with his seceding State, but all thatwas a thing of the past. Here was the son, a loyal soldier of the flagthe father had again sworn allegiance to when he took his seat in theHouse of Representatives. The general thought highly of Field, and wassore troubled at his serious condition. He knew what despatches would becoming from the far South when the telegraph line began the busyclicking of the morning. He was troubled to find the lad in high feverand to hear that he had been out of his head. He was more than troubledat the concern, and something like confusion, in the old doctor's face. 

"You don't think him dangerously wounded, do you?" he asked. 

"Not dangerously, general, " was the reply. "It's--well, he seems to havesomething on his mind. " And more than this the doctor would not say. Itwas not for him to tell the chief what Webb had confided ere he left thepost--that most of the currency for which Field was accountable was somuch waste paper. Field lay muttering and tossing in restless misery, unconscious most of the time, and sleeping only when under the influenceof a strong narcotic. Dade, with sadness and constraint apparent in hismanner, hung back and did not enter the bare hospital room where, withonly a steward in attendance, the young soldier lay. The doctor had gonewith the general to the bedside, but the captain remained out of earshotat the door. 

First call for reveillé was just sounding on the infantry bugles as thetrio came forth. "I have sent for Hay already, general, " Dade wassaying, as they stood on the wooden veranda overlooking the valley ofthe murmuring river; "but will you not come now and have coffee? He canjoin us over at my quarters. "

Already, however, the orderly was hurrying back. They met him when nothalf way over to the line of officers' quarters. The few men for duty inthe two companies of infantry, left to guard the post, were gathering inlittle groups in front of their barracks, awaiting the sounding of theassembly. They knew the chief at a glance, and were curiously watchinghim as he went thoughtfully pacing across the parade by the side of thetemporary commander. They saw the orderly coming almost at a run fromthe direction of the guard-house, saw him halt and salute, evidentlymaking some report, but they could not guess what made him so suddenlystart and run at speed toward the southward bluff, the direction of thetrader's corral and stables, while Captain Dade whirled about andsignalled Sergeant Crabb, of the cavalry, left behind in charge of thefew custodians of the troop barracks. Crabb, too, threw dignity to thewinds, and ran at the beck of his superior officer. 

"Have you two men who can ride hard a dozen miles or so--and carry outtheir orders?" was the captain's sharp demand. 

"Certainly, sir, " answered Crabb, professionally resentful that suchquestion should be asked of men of the ----th Cavalry. 

"Send two to report to me at once, mounted. Never mind breakfast. "

And by this time, apparently, the chief, the post commander and possiblyeven the aide-de-camp had forgotten about the waiting coffee. They stillstood there where they had halted in the centre of the parade. Thedoctor, coming from hospital, was signalled to and speedily joined them. The bugle sounded, the men mechanically formed ranks and answered totheir names, all the while watching from the corner of their eyes thegroup of officers, now increased by two infantry subalterns, LieutenantsBruce and Duncan, who raised their caps to the preoccupied general, suchsalutation being then a fashion, not a regulation of the service, andstood silently awaiting instructions, for something of consequence wassurely at hand. Then the orderly again appeared, returning from hismission, out of breath and speaking with difficulty. 

"Craps--I mean the Frenchman, sir, says it was after four, perhaps halfpast, when they started, Pete drivin'. He didn't see who was in it. 'Twas the covered buckboard he took, sir--the best one. "

And then, little by little, it transpired that Hay, the post trader whomthe general had need to see, had taken his departure by way of theRawlins road, and without so much as a whisper of his purpose to anyone. 

"I knew he had thought of going. He told Major Webb so, " said Dade, presently. "But that was before the outbreak assumed proportions. He hadgiven up all idea of it yesterday and so told me. "

"Has anything happened to--start him since then?" demanded the beardedgeneral, after a moment's thought. 

Dade and the doctor looked into each other's eyes, and the latter turnedaway. It was not his affair. 

"W-ell, something has happened, general, " was Dade's slow, constrainedreply. "If you will step this way--I'll see you later, gentlemen--" thisto his subalterns--"I'll explain as far as I can. "

And while Dr. Waller fell back and walked beside the aide-de-camp, gladly leaving to the post commander the burden of a trying explanation, the general, slowly pacing by the captain's side, gave ear to his story. 

"Hay cleaned up quite a lot of money, " began the veteran, "and hadintended starting it to Cheyenne when this Indian trouble broke out. Thecourier reached us during the night, as you know, and the major orderedRay to start at dawn and Field to go with him. "

"Why, I thought Field was post adjutant!" interposed the general. 

"He was, but--well--I beg you to let Major Webb give you his ownreasons, general, " faltered Dade, sorely embarrassed. "He decided thatField should go----"

"He _asked_ to go, I suppose--It runs in the blood, " said the general, quickly, with a keen look from his blue-gray eyes. 

"I think not, sir; but you will see Webb within a few days and he willtell you all about it. What I know is this, that Field was ordered to goand that he gave the major an order on Hay for two packages containingthe money for which he was accountable. Field and Wilkins had had afalling out, and, instead of putting the cash in the quartermaster'ssafe, Field kept it at Hay's. At guard mounting Hay brought the packageto the major, who opened both in presence of the officers of the day. Each package was supposed to contain three or four hundred dollars. Neither contained twenty. Some paper slips inserted between five dollarbills made up the packages. Field was then far to the north and pastconferring with. Hay was amazed and distressed--said that someone musthave duplicate keys of his safe as well as of his stables. "

"Why the stables?" asked the chief, pausing at the gate and studying thetroubled face of the honored soldier he so well knew and so fullytrusted. He was thinking, too, how this was not the first occasion thatthe loss of public money had been hidden for the time in just thatway--slips inserted between good currency. 

"Because it transpires that some of his horses were out that very nightwithout his consent or ken. No one for a moment, to my knowledge, hasconnected Field with the loss of the money. Hay thought, however, itthrew suspicion on _him_, and was mightily upset. "

"Then his sudden departure at this time, without a word to anybodylooks--odd, " said the general, thoughtfully. "But _he_ had no need ofmoney. He's one of the wealthiest men in Wyoming. And she--hiswife, --needs nothing. He gives her all she can possibly want. " By thistime they were at the door. A lamp still burned dimly in the hallway, and Dade blew it out, as he ushered the general into the cosily lighteddining-room. 

"You'll excuse Mrs. Dade and Esther, I hope, sir. They are not yetup--quite overcome by anxiety and excitement, --there's been a lot aboutFrayne the last two days. --Take this chair, General. Coffee will beserved at once. No, sir, as you say, the Hays have no need of money--heand his wife, that is. "

"But you suspect--whom?" asked the general, the blue-gray eyes intent onthe troubled face before him, for Dade's very hesitancy told of someuntold theory. The doctor and the aide had taken seats at the other endof the table and dutifully engaged in low-toned conversation. 

"That is a hard question for me to answer, General, " was the answer. "Ihave no right to suspect anybody. We had no time to complete theinvestigation. There are many hangers-on, you know, about Hay's store, and indeed, his house. Then his household, too, has been increased, asperhaps you did not know. Mrs. Hay's niece--a very brilliant youngwoman--is visiting them, and she and Field rode frequently together. "

The general's face was a study. The keen eyes were reading Dade as askilled physician would interpret the symptoms of a complicated case. "How old--and what is she like, Dade?" he asked. 

"The women can answer that better than I, sir. They say she must betwenty-four;--Mrs. Hay says nineteen--She is very dark and veryhandsome--at times. Most of our young men seem to think so, at least. She certainly rides and dances admirably, and Mr. Field was constantlyher partner. "

The general began to see light. "Field was constantly with her, was he?Riding just by themselves or with others when they went out?" he asked. 

"By themselves, sir. I doubt if any other of our equestriennes wouldcare to ride at her pace. She rather outstrips them all. The major toldme they seemed to go--well, every time he saw them, at least, --up toStabber's village, and that was something he disapproved of, though Idare say she was simply curious to see an Indian village, as an Easterngirl might be. "

"Possibly, " said the general. "And what did you tell me--she is Mrs. Hay's niece? I don't remember _his_ having any niece when they were atLaramie in '66, though I knew something of Mrs. Hay, who was then but ashort time married. She spoke Sioux and _patois_ French better thanEnglish in those days. What is the young lady's name?"

"Miss Flower, sir. Nanette Flower. "

The chief dropped his head on his hand and reflected. "It's a goodtwenty years, and I've been knocking about all over the West since then, but, I'd like to see Mrs. Hay and that young woman, Dade, whether weoverhaul Bill or not. I must go on to Beecher at once. "

"You will wait for the cavalry from Laramie, will you not, sir?" askedthe captain, anxiously. 

"I can't. I'll get a bath and breakfast and forty winks later; then seeMrs. Hay and Bill, if he is back. They ought to catch him before hereaches Sage Creek. There are your couriers now, " he added, at the soundof spurred heels on the front piazza. 

The captain stepped forth into the hallway. A trooper stood at the frontdoor, his hand lifted in salute. Another, in saddle, and holding thereins of his comrade's horse, was at the gate. A rustle of femininedrapery swept downward from the upper floor, and Dade glanced up, halfdreading to see Esther's face. But it was his wife who peered over thebalustrade. "I shall be down in ten minutes, " she said, in low tone. "Esther is sleeping at last. How did--he--seem this morning?"

"Sleeping, too, but only fitfully. Dr. Waller is here, " and then Dadewould have ended the talk. He did not wish to speak further of Field orhis condition. But she called again, low-toned, yet dominant, as is manya wife in and out of the army. 

"Surely you are not letting the general start with only two men!"

"No, he goes by and by. " And again Dade would have escaped to thepiazza, but once again she held him. 

"Then where are you sending these?"

"After Mr. Hay. He--made an early start--not knowing perhaps, thegeneral was coming. "

"Start!" she cried, all excitement now. "Start!--Start for where?" andthe dressing sacque in aspen-like agitations came in full view at thehead of the stairs. 

"Rawlins, I suppose. I don't know what it means. "

"But _I_ do!" exclaimed his better half, in emotion uncontrollable. "_I_do! It means that she has _made_ him, --that _she_ has gone, too--I meanNanette Flower!"

CHAPTER XV

A WOMAN'S PLOT

Woman's intuition often far outstrips the slower mental process of theother sex. The mother who has to see a beloved daughter's silentsuffering, well knowing another girl to be, however indirectly, thecause of it, sees all manner of other iniquities in that other girl. Kind, charitable and gentle was Mrs. Dade, a wise mother, too, as wellas most loving, but she could look with neither kindness nor charity onMiss Flower. She had held her peace; allowed no word of censure orcriticism to escape her when the women were discussing that young lady;but all the more vehement was her distrust, because thus pent up andrepressed. With the swiftness of feminine thought, for no man had yetsuspected, she fathomed the secret of the trader's sudden going; and, carried away by the excitement of the moment and the belief that nonebut her husband could hear, she had made that startling announcement. And her intuition was unerring. Nanette Flower was indeed gone. 

Yet for nearly an hour she stood alone in her conviction. Her husbandquickly cautioned silence, and, going forth, gave instructions to thecouriers that sent them speeding for the Rawlins road. But at seveno'clock Mrs. Hay herself appeared and asked to see the general, who wastaking at the moment his accustomed bracer, tonic and stimulant, --theonly kind he was ever known to use--a cold bath. So it was to Mrs. Dade, in all apparent frankness and sincerity, the trader's wife began hertale. 

Everyone at Frayne well knew that her anxiety as to the outcome of thebattle on the Elk had well nigh equalled that of the wives andsweethearts within the garrison. While her niece, after the first day'sexcitement, kept to her room, the aunt went flitting from house tohouse, full of sympathy and suggestion, but obviously more deeplyconcerned than they had ever seen her. Now, she seemed worried beyondwords at thought of her husband's having to go at just this time. It wasmainly on Nanette's account, she said. Only last night, with the mailfrom Laramie, had come a letter posted in San Francisco the week before, telling Miss Flower that her dearest friend and roommate for four yearsat school, who had been on an extended bridal tour, would pass throughRawlins, eastward bound, on Friday's train, and begging Nanette to meether and go as far at least as Cheyenne. Her husband, it seems, had beenhurriedly recalled to New York, and there was no help for it. Nanettehad expected to join her, and go all the way East in late October orearly November; had given her promise, in fact, for she was vastlyexcited by the news, and despite headache and lassitude that hadoppressed her for two days past, she declared she must go, and UncleWill must take her. So, with only a small trunk, hastily packed, of herbelongings, and an iron-bound chest of the trader's, the two had startedbefore dawn in Uncle Bill's stout buckboard, behind his famous four muleteam, with Pete to drive, and two sturdy ranchmen as outriders, hopingto reach the Medicine Bow by late afternoon, and rest at Brenner'sRanch. 

Confidentially, Mrs. Hay told Mrs. Dade that her husband was glad of theexcuse to take the route up the Platte instead of the old, rough trailsoutheastward over the mountains to Rock Creek, for he had a large sumin currency to get to the bank, and there were desperados along themountain route who well knew he would have to send that money in, andwere surely on lookout to waylay him--or it. Ever since pay-day two orthree rough characters had been hanging about the store, and Haysuspected they were watching his movements, with the intention ofgetting word to their comrades in crime the moment he started, and itwas almost as much to steal a march on them, as to oblige Nanette, he sowillingly left before it was light. The Rawlins road followed the PlatteValley all the way to Brenner's, and, once there, he would feel safe, whereas the Rock Creek trail wound through gulch, ravine and forest mostof the distance, affording many a chance for ambuscade. Of course, saidMrs. Hay, if her husband had for a moment supposed the general wouldwish to see him, he would not have gone, adding, with just a littletouch of proper, wifelike spirit, that on the general's previous visitshe had never seemed to care whether he saw Mr. Hay or not. 

All this did Mrs. Dade accept with courteous yet guarded interest. Theywere seated in the little army parlor, talking in low tone; for, withunfailing tact, Mrs. Hay had asked for Esther, and expressed hersympathy on hearing of her being unnerved by the excitement throughwhich they had passed. Well she knew that Field's serious condition hadnot a little to do with poor Esther's prostration, but that wasknowledge never to be hinted at. Dade himself she did not wish to meetjust now. He was too direct a questioner, and had said and looked thingsabout Nanette that made her dread him. She knew that, however austereand commanding he might be when acting under his own convictions, he wasabnormally susceptible to uxorial views, and the way to win thecaptain's sympathies or avert his censure, was to secure the kindlyinterest of his wife. Mrs. Hay knew that he had sent couriers off by theRawlins road--a significant thing in itself--and that couriers had comein from the north with further news from Webb. She knew he had gone tothe office, and would probably remain there until summoned forbreakfast, and now was her time, for there was something further to bespoken of, and while gentle and civil, Mrs. Dade had not been receptive. It was evident to the trader's wife that her lord and master had made amistake in leaving when he did. He knew the general was on the way. Heknew there was that money business to be cleared up, yet she knew therewere reasons why she _wanted_ him away, --reasons hardest of all toplausibly explain. There were reasons, indeed, why she was glad Nanettewas gone. All Fort Frayne was devoted to Esther Dade and, howeverunjustly, most of Fort Frayne, --men, women and children, --attributedField's defection, as they chose to call it, to Nanette--Nanette who hadset at naught her aunt's most ardent wishes, in even noticing Field atall. Money, education, everything she could give had been lavished onthat girl, and now, instead of casting her net for that well-to-do anddistinguished bachelor, the major, thereby assuring for herself theproud position of first lady of Fort Frayne, the wife of the commandingofficer, Nanette had been deliberately throwing herself away at abeardless, moneyless second lieutenant, because he danced and rode well. Mrs. Hay did not blame Mrs. Dade at that moment for hating the girl, ifhate she did. She could have shaken her, hard and well, herself, yet wasutterly nonplussed to find that Nanette cared next to nothing how badlyField was wounded. What she seemed to care to know was about thecasualties among the Sioux, and, now that Stabber's village, the lastliving trace of it, old men, squaws, children, pappooses, ponies andpuppies and other living creatures had, between two days, been whiskedaway to the hills, there were no more Indians close at hand to whisperinformation. 

She was glad Nanette was gone, because Field, wounded and present, wouldhave advantages over possible suitors absent on campaign--because allthe women and a few of the men were now against her, and because fromsome vague, intangible symptoms, Mrs. Hay had satisfied herself thatthere was something in the wind Nanette was hiding even from her--herbenefactress, her best friend, and it seemed like cold-bloodedtreachery. Hay had for two days been disturbed, nervous and unhappy, yetwould not tell her why. He had been cross-questioning Pete, "Crapaud"and other employees, and searching about the premises in a way thatexcited curiosity and even resentment, for the explanation he gave wasutterly inadequate. To satisfy her if possible, he had confided, as hesaid, the fact that certain money for which Lieutenant Field wasaccountable, had been stolen. The cash had been carefully placed in hisold-fashioned safe; the missing money, therefore, had been taken whilestill virtually in his charge. "They might even suspect me, " he said, which she knew would not be the case. "They forbade my speaking of it toanybody, but I simply had to tell you. " She felt sure there wassomething he was concealing; something he would not tell her; somethingconcerning Nanette, therefore, because she so loved Nanette, he shrankfrom revealing what might wound her. Indeed, it was best that Nanetteshould go for the time, at least, but Mrs. Hay little dreamed thatothers would be saying--even this kindly, gentle woman before her--thatNanette should have stayed until certain strange things were thoroughlyand satisfactorily explained. 

But the moment she began, faltering not a little, to speak of mattersat the post, as a means of leading up to Nanette--matters concerningLieutenant Field and his financial affairs, --to her surprise Mrs. Dadegently uplifted her hand and voice. "I am going to ask you not to tellme, Mrs. Hay, " said she. "Captain Dade has given me to understand therewas something to be investigated, but preferred that I should not askabout it. Now, the general will be down in fifteen or twenty minutes. Isuggest that we walk over the hospital and see how Mr. Field is gettingon. We can talk, you know, as we go. Then you will breakfast with us. Indeed, may I not give you a cup of coffee now, Mrs. Hay?"

But Mrs. Hay said no. She had had coffee before coming. She would go andsee if there was anything they could do for Field, and would try againto induce Mrs. Dade to listen to certain of her explanations. 

But Mrs. Dade was silent and preoccupied. She was thinking of that storyof Nanette's going, and wondering whether it could be true. She waswondering if Mrs. Hay knew the couriers had gone to recall Hay, and thatif he and Nanette failed to return it might mean trouble for both. Shecould accord to Mrs. Hay no confidences of her own, and had beencompelled to decline to listen to those with which Mrs. Hay would havefavored her. She was thinking of something still more perplexing. Thegeneral, as her husband finally told her, had asked first thing to seeHay, and later declared that he wished to talk with Mrs. Hay and seeNanette. Was it possible he knew anything of what she knew--thatbetween Hay's household and Stabber's village there had beencommunication of some kind--that the first thing found in the Indianpouch brought home by Captain Blake, was a letter addressed in NanetteFlower's hand, and with it three card photographs, two of them ofunmistakable Indians in civilized garb, and two letters, addressed, likehers, to Mr. Ralph Moreau, --one care of the Rev. Jasper Strong, Valentine, Nebraska, the other to the general delivery, Omaha?

Yes, that pouch brought in by Captain Blake had contained matter tooweighty for one woman, wise as she was, to keep to herself. Mrs. Blake, with her husband's full consent, had summoned Mrs. Ray, soon after hisdeparture on the trail of Webb, and told her of the strange discovery. They promptly decided there was only one thing to do with theletter;--hand or send it, unopened, to Miss Flower. Then, as Blake hadhad no time to examine further, they decided to search the pouch. Theremight be more letters in the same superscription. 

But there were not. They found tobacco, beeswax, an empty flask that hadcontained whiskey, vaseline, Pond's Extract, salve, pigments, a fewsheets of note paper, envelopes and pencil--odd things to find in thepossession of a Sioux--a burning glass, matches, some quinine pills, cigars, odds and ends of little consequence, and those letters addressedto R. Moreau. The first one they had already decided should go to MissFlower. The others, they thought, should be handed unopened to thecommanding officer. They might contain important information, now thatthe Sioux were at war and that Ralph Moreau had turned out probably tobe a real personage. But first they would consult Mrs. Dade. They haddone so the very evening of Blake's departure, even as he, long milesaway, was telling Kennedy his Irish heart was safe from the designs ofone blood-thirsty Sioux; and Mrs. Dade had agreed with them thatNanette's letter should be sent to her forthwith, and that, as CaptainBlake had brought it in, the duty of returning the letter devolved uponhis wife. 

And so, after much thought and consultation, a little note was written, saying nothing about the other contents or about the pouch itself. "DearMiss Flower:" it read. "The enclosed was found by Captain Blake sometime this morning. He had no time to deliver it in person. Yourssincerely. N. B. Blake. "

She would enter into no explanation and would say nothing of theconsultation. She could not bring herself to sign her name as usuallyshe signed it, Nannie Bryan Blake. She had, as any man or woman wouldhave had, a consuming desire to know what Miss Flower could be writingto a Mr. Moreau, whose correspondence turned up in this remarkable way, in the pouch of a painted Sioux. But she and they deemed it entirelyneedless to assure Miss Flower no alien eye had peered into themysterious pages. (It might have resulted in marvellous developments ifMiss Flower thought they had. ) Note and enclosure were sent first thingnext morning by the trusty hand of Master Sanford Ray, himself, and byhim delivered in person to Miss Flower, who met him at the trader'sgate. She took it, he said; and smiled, and thanked him charminglybefore she opened it. She was coming out for her customary walk at thehour of guard mounting, but the next thing he knew she had "scooted"indoors again. 

And from that moment Miss Flower had not been seen. 

All this was Mrs. Dade revolving in mind as she walked pityingly by theside of the troubled woman, only vaguely listening to her flow of words. They had thought to be admitted to the little room in which the woundedofficer lay, but as they tiptoed into the wide, airy hall and lookedover the long vista of pink-striped coverlets in the big ward beyond, the doctor himself appeared at the entrance and barred the way. 

"Is there nothing we can do?" asked Mrs. Dade, with tears in her voice. "Is he--so much worse?"

"Nothing can be done just now, " answered Waller, gravely. "He has hadhigh fever during the night--has been wakeful and flighty again. I--should rather no one entered just now. "

And then they noted that even the steward who had been with poor Fieldwas now hovering about the door of the dispensary and that only Dr. Waller remained within the room. "I am hoping to get him to sleep againpresently, " said he. "And when he is mending there will be a host ofthings for you both to do. "

But that mending seemed many a day off, and Mrs. Hay, poor woman, hadgraver cares of her own before the setting sun. Avoiding the possibilityof meeting the general just now, and finding Mrs. Dade both silent andconstrained at mention of her niece's name, the trader's wife wentstraightway homeward from the hospital, and did not even see the postcommander hurrying from his office, with an open despatch in his hand. But by this time the chief and his faithful aide were out on theveranda, surrounded by anxious wives and daughters, many of whom hadbeen earnestly bothering the doctor at the hospital before going tobreakfast. Dade much wished them away, though the news brought in bynight riders was both stirring and cheery. The Indians had flitted awayfrom Webb's front, and he counted on reaching and rescuing the Dry Forkparty within six hours from the time the courier started. They mightexpect the good news during the afternoon of Thursday. Scouts andflankers reported finding _travois_ and pony tracks leading westwardfrom the scene of Ray's fierce battle, indicating that the Indians hadcarried their dead and wounded into the fastnesses of the southernslopes of the Big Horn, and that their punishment had been heavy. Amongthe chiefs killed or seriously wounded was this new, vehement leaderwhom Captains Blake and Ray thought might be Red Fox, who was sotruculent at the Black Hills conference the previous year. Certain ofthe men, however, who had seen Red Fox at that time expressed doubts. Lieutenant Field, said Webb, had seen him, and could probably say. 

Over this despatch the general pondered gravely. "From what I know ofRed Fox, " said he, "I should think him a leader of the Sitting Bulltype, --a shrew, intriguing, mischief-making fellow, a sort of Siouxwalking delegate, not a battle leader; but according to Blake and Raythis new man is a fighter. "

Then Mrs. Dade came out and bore the general off to breakfast, andduring breakfast the chief was much preoccupied. Mrs. Dade and theaide-de-camp chatted on social matters. The general exchanged anoccasional word with his host and hostess, and finally surprised neitherof them, when breakfast was over and he had consumed the last of hisglass of hot water, by saying to his staff officer, "I should like tosee Mrs. Hay a few minutes, if possible. We'll walk round there first. Then--let the team be ready at ten o'clock. "

But the team, although ready, did not start northward at ten, and thegeneral, though he saw Mrs. Hay, had no speech with her upon theimportant matters uppermost in his mind during the earlier hours of theday. He found that good lady in a state of wild excitement and alarm. One of the two outriders who had started with her husband and niece atdawn, was mounted on a dun-colored cow pony, with white face and feet. One of the two troopers sent by Dade to overtake and bring them back, was turning a blown and exhausted horse over to the care of Hay'sstablemen, as he briefly told his story to the wild-eyed, well nighdistracted woman. Six miles up stream, he said, they had come suddenlyupon a dun-colored cow pony, dead in his tracks, with white feet in airand white muzzle bathed in blood; bridle, saddle and rider gone; signsof struggle in places--but no signs of the party, the team and wagon, anywhere. 

"And no cavalry to send out after them!" said Dade, when he reached thespot. Old Crabb was called at once, and mustered four semi-invalidedtroopers. The infantry supplied half a dozen stout riders and, with amixed escort, the general, accompanied by Dade and the aide-de-camp, drove swiftly to the scene. Six miles away they found the dead pony. Seven miles away they encountered the second trooper, coming back. Hehad followed the trail of the four mule team as far as yonder point, said he, and there was met by half a dozen shots from unseen foe, and sorode back out of range. But Dade threw his men forward as skirmishers;found no living soul either at the point or on the banks of the rockyford beyond; but, in the shallows, close to the shore, lay the body ofthe second outrider, shot and scalped. In a clump of willows lay anotherbody, that of a pinto pony, hardly cold, while the soft, sandy shoreswere cut by dozens of hoof tracks--shoeless. The tracks of the mules andwagon lay straight away across the stream bed--up the opposite bank andout on the northward-sweeping bench beyond. Hay's famous four, andwell-known wagon, contents and all, therefore, had been spirited away, not toward the haunts of the road agents in the mountains of theMedicine Bow, but to those of the sovereign Sioux in the fastnesses ofthe storied Big Horn. 

CHAPTER XVI

NIGHT PROWLING AT FRAYNE

In the full of the September moon the war-bands of the Sioux had defiedagents and peace chiefs, commissioners and soldiers, and started theirwild campaign in northern Wyoming. In the full of the October moon thebig chief of the whites had swept the last vestige of their warriorsfrom the plains, and followed their bloody trails into the heart of themountains, all his cavalry and much of his foot force being needed forthe work in hand. Not until November, therefore, when the ice bridgespanned the still reaches of the Platte, and the snow lay deep in thebrakes and _coulées_, did the foremost of the homeward-bound commandscome in view of old Fort Frayne, and meantime very remarkable things hadoccurred, and it was to a very different, if only temporary, postcommander that Sandy Ray reported them as "sighted. " Even brave old Dadehad been summoned to the front, with all his men, and in their place hadcome from distant posts in Kansas other troops to occupy the vacantquarters and strive to feel at home in strange surroundings. 

A man of austere mold was the new major, --one of the old Covenantertype, who would march to battle shouting hymn tunes, and to Christmasand Thanksgiving chanting doleful lays. He hailed, indeed, from oldPuritan stock; had been a pillar in the village church in days beforethe great war, and emulated Stonewall Jackson in his piety, if he didnot in martial prowess. Backed by local, and by no means secular, influences he had risen in the course of the four years' war from ajunior lieutenancy to the grade of second in command of his far easternregiment; had rendered faithful services in command of convalescentcamps and the like, but developed none of that vain ambition whichprompts the seeking of "the bubble reputation" at the cannon's mouth. All he ever knew of Southern men in ante-bellum days was what he heardfrom the lips of inspired orators or read from the pens of very earnestanti-slavery editors. Through lack of opportunity he had met noSoutherner before the war, and carried his stanch, Calvinisticprejudices to such extent that he seemed to shrink from closer contacteven then. The war was holy. The hand of the Lord would surely smite theslave-holding arch rebel, which was perhaps why the Covenanter thoughtit work of supererogation to raise his own. He finished as he began thewar, in the unalterable conviction that the Southern President, hiscabinet and all his leading officers should be hung, and their landsconfiscated to the state--or its representatives. He had been given acommission in the army when such things were not hard to get--at thereorganization in '66, had been stationed in a Ku Klux district all onewinter and in a sanitarium most of the year that followed. He thoughtthe nation on the highroad to hell when it failed to impeach thePresident of high crimes and misdemeanors, and sent Hancock to harmonizematters in Louisiana. He was sure of it when the son of a Southerner, who had openly flouted him, was sent to West Point. He retained theseradical views even unto the twentieth anniversary of the greatsurrender; and, while devoutly praying for forgiveness of his own sins, could never seem to forgive those whose lot had been cast with theSouth. He was utterly nonplussed when told that the young officer, languishing in hospital on his arrival, was the son of a distinguishedmajor-general of the Confederate Army, and he planned for the father amost frigid greeting, until reminded that the former major-general wasnow a member of Congress and of the committee on military affairs. Thenit became his duty to overlook the past. 

He had not entered Field's little room, even when inspecting hospital(Flint was forever inspecting something or other)--the doctor'sassurance that, though feeble, his patient was doing quite well, was allsufficient. He had thought to greet the former Confederate, a sorelyanxious father, with grave and distant civility, as an avowed anddoubtless unregenerate enemy of that sacred flag; but, as has been said, that was before it was pointed out to him that this was the Honorable M. C. From the Pelican State, now prominent as a member of the HouseCommittee on Military Affairs. Motherless and sister-less was thewounded boy, yet gentle and almost caressing hands had blessed hispillow and helped to drive fever and delirium to the winds. It wastwelve days after they brought him back to Frayne before the fathercould hope to reach him, coming post haste, too; but by that time thelad was propped on his pillows, weak, sorrowing and sorely troubled, none the less so because there was no one now to whom he could say_why_. 

The men whom he knew and trusted were all away on campaign, all save theveteran post surgeon, whom hitherto he had felt he hardly knew at all. The women whom he had best known and trusted were still present at thepost. Mrs. Ray and Mrs. Blake had been his friends, frank, cordial andsincere up to the week of his return from Laramie and his sudden andoverwhelming infatuation for Nanette Flower. Then they had seemed tohold aloof, to greet him only with courtesy, and to eye him withunspoken reproach. The woman at Fort Frayne to whom he most looked upwas Mrs. Dade, and now Mrs. Dade seemed alienated utterly. She had beento inquire for him frequently, said his attendant, when he was so rackedwith fever. So had others, and they sent him now jellies and similardelicacies, but came no more in person--just yet at least--but he didnot know the doctor so desired. Field knew that his father, after thelong, long journey from the distant South, was now close at hand, --wouldbe with him within a few hours, and even with Ray's warm words of praisestill ringing in his ears, the young soldier was looking to thatfather's coming almost with distress. It was through God's mercy andthe wisdom of the old surgeon that no word, as yet, had been whisperedto him of the discovery made when the money packages were opened--of thetragic fate that had, possibly, befallen Bill Hay and Miss Flower. 

That a large sum of money was missing, and that Field was theaccountable officer, was already whispered about the garrison. The factthat four officers and Mr. Hay were aware of it in the first place, andthe latter had told it to his wife, was fatal to entire secrecy. But, inthe horror and excitement that prevailed when the details of the latertragedy were noised about the post, this minor incident had been almostforgotten. 

The disappearance of Hay and his brilliant, beautiful niece, however, was not to be forgotten for a moment, day or night, despite the factthat Mrs. Hay, who had been almost crazed with dread and terror whenfirst informed there had been a "hold-up, " rallied almost immediately, and took heart and hope when it became apparent that Indians, not whitemen, were the captors. 

"The Sioux would never harm a hair of his head, " she proudly declared. "He has been their friend for half a century. " Nor had she fears forNanette. The Sioux would harm nobody her husband sought to protect. Whenit was pointed out to her that they had harmed the guards, --that one ofthem was found shot dead and scalped at the shores of the Platte, andthe other, poor fellow, had crawled off among the rocks and bled todeath within gunshot of the scene, --Mrs. Hay said they must have firstshown fight and shot some of the Sioux, for all the Indians knew Mr. Hay's wagon. Then why, asked Fort Frayne, had they molested him--andhis?

The general had had to leave for the front without seeing Mrs. Hay. Morethan ever was it necessary that he should be afield, for this exploitshowed that some of the Sioux, at least, had cut loose from the mainbody and had circled back toward the Platte--Stabber's people in allprobability. So, sending Crabb and his little squad across the river tofollow a few miles, at least, the trail of the wagon and its captors, and ascertain, if possible, whither it had gone, he hurried back toFrayne; sent messengers by the Laramie road to speed the cavalry, andorders to the colonel to send two troops at once to rescue Hay and hisniece; sent wires calling for a few reinforcements, and was off on theway to Beecher, guarded by a handful of sturdy "doughboys" inambulances, before ever the body of the second victim was found. 

And then, little by little, it transpired that this mysterious warparty, venturing to the south bank of the Platte, did not exceed half adozen braves. Crabb got back in thirty-six hours, with five exhaustedmen. They had followed the wheel tracks over the open prairie and intothe foothills far to the Northwest, emboldened by the evidence of therebeing but few ponies in the original bandit escort. But, by four in theafternoon, they got among the breaks and ravines and, first thing theyknew, among the Indians, for zip came the bullets and down went twohorses, and they had to dismount and fight to stand off possible swarms, and, though owning they had seen no Indians, they had proof of havingfelt them, and were warranted in pushing no further. After dark theybegan their slow retreat and here they were. 

And for seven days that was the last heard, by the garrison, at least, of these most recent captives of the Sioux. Gentle and sympatheticwomen, however, who called on Mrs. Hay, were prompt to note that thoughunnerved, unstrung, distressed, she declared again and again her faiththat the Indians would never really harm her husband. They might holdhim and Nanette as hostages for ransom. They might take for their ownpurposes his wagon, his mules and that store of money, but his life wassafe, yes, and Nanette's too. Of this she was so confident that peoplebegan to wonder whether she had not received some assurance to thateffect, and when Pete, the stable boy driver, turned up at the end ofthe first week with a cock-and-bull story about having stolen an Indianpony and shot his way from the midst of the Sioux away up on No WoodCreek, on the west side of the hills, and having ridden by night andhidden by day until he got back to the Platte and Frayne, people feltsure of it. Pete could talk Sioux better than he could jabber English. He declared the Indians were in the hills by thousands, and were goingto take Hay and the young lady away off somewhere to be held for safekeeping. He said the two troops that, never even halting at Frayne, hadpushed out on the trail, would only get into trouble if they tried toenter the hills from the South, and that they would never get thecaptives, wherein Pete was right, for away out among the spurs andgorges of the range, fifty miles from Frayne, the pursuers came upon thewreck of the wagon at the foot of an acclivity, up which a force ofSioux had gone in single file. Many warriors it would seem, however, must have joined the party on the way, and from here, --where with thewagon was found Hay's stout box, bereft of its contents, --in fourdifferent directions the pony tracks of little parties crossed orclimbed the spurs, and which way the captives had been taken, CaptainBillings, the commander, could not determine. What the Sioux hoped hemight do was divide his force into four detachments and send one on eachtrail. Then they could fall upon them, one by one, and slay them attheir leisure. Billings saw the game, however, and was not to be caught. He knew Bill Hay, his past and his popularity among the red men. He knewthat if they meant to kill him at all they would not have taken thetrouble to cart him fifty miles beforehand. He dropped the stern chasethen and there, and on the following day skirted the foothills away tothe east and, circling round to the breaks of the Powder as he reachedthe open country, struck and hard hit a scouting band of Sioux, andjoined the general three days later, when most he was needed, near thelog palisades of old Fort Beecher. 

Then there had been more or less of mysterious coming and going amongthe halfbreed hangers-on about the trader's store, and these were thingsthe new post commander knew not how to interpret, even when informed ofthem. He saw Mrs. Hay but once or twice. He moved into the quarters ofMajor Webb, possessing himself, until his own should arrive, of such ofthe major's belongings as the vigilance of Mistress McGann would suffer. He stationed big guards from his two small companies about the post, andstarted more hard swearing among his own men, for "getting only twonights in bed, " than had been heard at Frayne in long months of lesspious post commandership. He strove to make himself agreeable to theladies, left lamenting for their lords, but as luck would have it, fellforemost into the clutches of the quartermaster's wife, the dominant andunterrified Wilkins. 

Just what prompted that energetic and, in many ways, estimable woman, totake the new major into close communion, and tell him not only what sheknew, but what she thought, about all manner of matters at the post, cannever be justly determined. But within the first few days of his coming, and on the eve of the arrival of General Field, Major Flint was inpossession of the story of how devoted young Field had been to EstherDade, and how cruelly he had jilted her for the brilliant Miss Flower, "her that was gone with the Sioux. " The differences between her stout, veteran liege and the smooth-faced stripling had given her text to startwith. The story of the money lost had filtered from her lips, andfinally that of other peccadilloes, attributable to the young postadjutant, whom, as she said, "The meejor had to rejuice and sind to thefront all along of his doin's in gar'son. " Dade was gone. There was noman save Wilkins to whom Major Flint felt that he could appeal forconfirmation or denial of these stories. Dr. Waller was his senior inthe service by ten years at least, and a type of the old-time officerand gentleman of whom such as Flint stood ever in awe. He preferred, therefore, as he thought, to keep the doctor at a distance, to make himfeel the immensity of his, the post commander's, station, and so, asWilkins dare not disavow the sayings of his wife, even had he been sominded, the stories stood. 

Flint was thinking of them this very evening when Dr. Waller, happeningto meet him on his way from hospital briefly said that General Fieldshould be with them on the morrow. "He leaves Rock Creek to-night, having hired transportation there. I had hoped our lad might be inbetter spirits by this time. "

The major answered vaguely. How could a lad with all these sins upon hissoul be in anything but low spirits? Here was a brand to be snatchedfrom the burning, a youth whom prompt, stern measures might redeem andrestore, one who should be taught the error of his ways forthwith; only, the coming of the member of the Military Committee of the House ofRepresentatives might make the process embarrassing. There were otherways, therefore and however, in which this valuable information in themajor's possession might be put to use, and of these was the majorthinking, more than of the condition of the wounded lad, physical orspiritual, as homeward through the gloaming he wended his way. 

Might it not be well to wait until this important and influentialpersonage had reached the post before proceeding further? Might it notbe well, confidentially and gradually, as it were, to permit theHonorable M. C. To know that grave irregularities had occurred?--that upto this moment the complete knowledge thereof was locked in the breastof the present post commander?--that the suppression or presentation ofthe facts depended solely upon that post commander? and then if themember of the House Committee on Military Affairs proved receptive, appreciative, in fact responsive, might not the ends of justice betterbe subserved by leaving to the parent the duty of personally andprivately correcting the son? and, in consideration of the postcommander's wisdom and continence, pledging the influence of theMilitary Committee to certain delectable ends in the major's behalf?Long had Flint had his eye on a certain desirable berth in the distantEast--at the national capitol in fact--but never yet had he foundstatesman or soldier inclined to further his desire. That night themajor bade Mr. And Mrs. Wilkins hold their peace as to Field'speccadilloes until further leave was given them to speak. That night themajor, calling at Captain Dade's, was concerned to hear that Mrs. Dadewas not at home. "Gone over to the hospital with Mrs. Blake and thedoctor, " was the explanation, and these gentle-hearted women, it seems, were striving to do something to rouse the lad from the slough ofdespond which had engulfed him. That night "Pink" Marble, Hay's faithfulbook-keeper and clerk for many a year, a one-armed veteran of the civilwar, calling, as was his invariable custom when the trader was absent, to leave the keys of the safe and desks with Mrs. Hay, was surprised tofind her in a flood of tears, for which she declined all explanation;yet the sight of Pete, the half breed, slouching away toward the stablesas Marble closed the gate, more than suggested cause, for "Pink" hadlong disapproved of that young man. That night Crapaud, the otherstableman, had scandalized Jerry Sullivan, the bar-keeper, and oldMcGann, Webb's Hibernian major domo, by interrupting their game of OldSledge with a demand for a quart of whiskey on top of all that he hadobviously and surreptitiously been drinking, and by further indulging infurious threats, in a sputtering mixture of Dakota French and FrenchDakota, when summarily kicked out. That night, late as twelve o'clock, Mrs. Ray, aroused by the infantile demands of the fourth of the olivebranches, and further disturbed by the suspicious growlings andchallenge of old Tonto, Blake's veteran mastiff, peeped from the secondstory window and plainly saw two forms in soldier overcoats at the backfence, and wondered what the sentries found about Blake's quarters torequire so much attention. Then she became aware of a third form, rifle-bearing, and slowly pacing the curving line of the bluff--thesentry beyond doubt. Who, then, were these others who had now totallydisappeared? She thought to speak of it to Nannie in the morning, andthen thought not. There were reasons why nervous alarm of any kind werebest averted then from Mrs. Blake. But there came reason speedily whyMrs. Ray could not forget it. 

And that night, later still, along toward four o'clock, the persistentclicking of the telegraph instrument at the adjutant's office caught theear of the sentry, who in time stirred up the operator, and a "rush"message was later thrust into the hand of Major Flint, demolishing aday-old castle in the air. 

 FROM ROCK CREEK, WYOMING, _October 23, 188--. _ 9:15 P. M. 

COMMANDING OFFICER, FORT FRAYNE, _via Fort Laramie_. 

Stage capsized Crook Cañon. General Field seriously injured. Have wiredOmaha. 

(Signed) Warner, _Commanding Camp. _

CHAPTER XVII

A RIFLED DESK

Events moved swiftly in the week that followed. Particulars of theaccident to General Field, however, were slow in reaching Fort Frayne;and, to the feverish unrest and mental trouble of the son, was now addeda feverish anxiety on the father's account that so complicated thesituation as to give Dr. Waller grave cause for alarm. Then it was that, ignoring every possible thought of misbehavior on the part of the youngofficer toward the gentle girl so dear to them, not only Mrs. Blake andMrs. Ray, but Mrs. Dade herself, insisted on being made ofuse, --insisted on being permitted to go to his bedside and there tominister, as only women can, to the suffering and distressed. Wallerthought it over and succumbed. The lad was no longer delirious, atleast, and if he revealed anything of what was uppermost in his mind itwould be a conscious and voluntary revelation. There were some things hehad said and that Waller alone had heard, the good old doctor wishedwere known to certain others of the garrison, and to no one more thanMrs. Dade; and so the prohibition against their visiting the wounded ladwas withdrawn, and not only these, but other women, sympatheticallyattracted, were given the necessary authority. 

There was other reason for this. From the commanding officer of thesupply camp at Rock Springs had come, finally, a letter that was full offoreboding. General Field, it said, was sorely injured and might notsurvive. If the department commander had only been at Omaha or Cheyenne, as the anxious father hastened to reach his son, the mishap would neverhave occurred. The general would gladly have seen to it that suitabletransportation from the railway to Frayne was afforded his old-timecomrade. But, in his absence, Field shrank from appealing to anyoneelse, and, through the train conductor, wired ahead to Rock Creek for astout four-mule team and wagon, with a capable driver. The conductorassured him that such things were to be had for money, and thateverything would be in readiness on his arrival. Team, wagon and drivercertainly were on hand, but the team looked rickety, so did the wagon, so did the driver, who had obviously been priming for the occasion. Itwas this rig or nothing, however; and, in spite of a courteousremonstrance from the two officers at the supply camp, who saw andcondemned the "outfit, " General Field started on time and returned on animprovised trestle three hours later. The "outfit" had been tumbled overa ledge into a rocky creek bottom, and with disastrous results to allconcerned except the one who deserved it most--the driver. The ways ofProvidence are indeed inscrutable. 

A surgeon had been sent from Fort Russell, and his report was such thatWaller would not let it go in full to his patient. They had carried theold soldier back to camp, and such aid as could be given by the rudehands of untaught men was all he had for nearly twenty-four hours, andhis suffering had been great. Internal injuries, it was feared, had beensustained, and at his advanced age that was something almost fatal. Nowonder Waller was worried. Then Flint took alarm at other troublescloser at hand. Up to this year he had been mercifully spared allpersonal contact with our Indian wards, and when he was told by hissentries that twice in succession night riders had been heard on thewestward "bench, " and pony tracks in abundance had been found at theupper ford--the site of Stabber's village--and that others still were tobe seen in the soft ground not far from Hay's corral, the major was morethan startled. At this stage of the proceedings, Sergeant Crabb of theCavalry was the most experienced Indian fighter left at the post. Crabbwas sent for, and unflinchingly gave his views. The Sioux had probablyscattered before the squadrons sent after them from the north; had fledinto the hills and, in small bands probably, were now raiding downtoward the Platte, well knowing there were few soldiers left to defendFort Frayne, and no cavalry were there to chase them. 

"What brings them here? What do they hope to get or gain?" asked Flint. 

"I don't know, sir, " answered Crabb. "But this I do know, they areafter something and expect to get it. If I might make so bold, sir, Ithink the major ought to keep an eye on them blasted halfbreeds atHay's. "

It set Flint to serious thinking. Pete and Crapaud, paid henchmen of thetrader, had been taking advantage of their employer's absence andcelebrating after the manner of their kind. One of his officers, newlike himself to the neighborhood and to the Indians, had had encounterwith the two that rubbed his commissioned fur the wrong way. A sentry, in discharge of his duty, had warned them one evening away from the reargate of a bachelor den, along officers' row, and had been told to go tosheol, or words to that effect. They had more business there than hehad, said they, and, under the potent sway of "inspiring bold JohnBarleycorn" had not even abated their position when theofficer-of-the-day happened along. They virtually damned and defied him, too. 

The officer-of-the-day reported to the commanding officer, and thatofficer called on Mrs. Hay to tell her he should order the culprits offthe reservation if they were not better behaved. Mrs. Hay, so said theservant, was feeling far from well and had to ask to be excused, whenwho should appear but that ministering angel Mrs. Dade herself, and Mrs. Dade undertook to tell Mrs. Hay of the misconduct of the men, even whenassuring Major Flint she feared it was a matter in which Mrs. Hay waspowerless. They were afraid of Hay, but not of her. Hearing of Mrs. Hay's illness, Mrs. Dade and other women had come to visit and consoleher, but there were very few whom she would now consent to see. Eventhough confident no bodily harm would befall her husband or her niece, Mrs. Hay was evidently sore disturbed about something. Failing to seeher, Major Flint sent for the bartender and clerk, and bade them saywhere these truculent, semi-savage bacchanals got their whiskey, andboth men promptly and confidently declared it wasn't at the store. Neither of them would give or sell to either halfbreed a drop, and oldWilkins stood sponsor for the integrity of the affiants, both of whom hehad known for years and both of whom intimated that the two specimenshad no need to be begging, buying or stealing whiskey, when Bill Hay'sprivate cellar held more than enough to fill the whole Sioux nation. "Moreover, " said Pink Marble, "they've got the run of the stables nowthe old man's away, and there isn't a night some of those horses ain'tout. " When Flint said that was something Mrs. Hay ought to know, PinkMarble replied that was something Mrs. Hay did know, unless she refusedto believe the evidence of her own senses as well as his, and Pinkthought it high time our fellows in the field had recaptured Hay andfetched him home. If it wasn't done mighty soon he, Pink, wouldn't beanswerable for what might happen at the post. 

All the more anxious did this make Flint. He decided that the exigenciesof the case warranted his putting a sentry over Hay's stable, withorders to permit no horse to be taken out except by an order from him, and Crabb took him and showed him, two days later, the tracks of twohorses going and coming in the soft earth in front of a narrow side doorthat led to the corral. Flint had this door padlocked at once andWilkins took the key, and that night was surprised by a note from Mrs. Hay. 

"The stablemen complain that the sentries will not let them take thehorses out even for water and exercise, which has never been the casebefore, " and Mrs. Hay begged that the restriction might be removed. Indeed, if Major Flint would remove the sentry, she would assume allresponsibility for loss or damage. The men had been with Mr. Hay, shesaid, for six years and never had been interfered with before, and theywere sensitive and hurt and would quit work, they said, if furthermolested. Then there would be nobody to take their place and the stockwould suffer. 

In point of fact, Mrs. Hay was pleading for the very men against whomthe other employés claimed to have warned her--these two halfbreeds whohad defied his sentries, --and Flint's anxieties materially increased. Ittaxed all his stock of personal piety, and strengthened the belief hewas beginning to harbor, that Mrs. Hay had some use for the horses atnight--some sojourners in the neighborhood with whom she mustcommunicate, and who could they be but Sioux?

Then Mistress McGann, sound sleeper that she used to be, declared to thetemporary post commander, as he was, and temporary lodger as sheconsidered him, that things "was goin' on about the post she'd neverheard the likes of before, and that the meejor would never put up witha minute. " When Mrs. McGann said "the meejor" she meant not Flint, buthis predecessor. There was but one major in her world, --the one shetreated like a minor. Being a soldier's wife, however, she knew thedeference due to the commanding officer, even though she did not chooseto show it, and when bidden to say her say and tell what things "wasgoin' on" Mistress McGann asseverated, with the asperity of a woman whohas had to put her husband to bed two nights running, that the time hadnever been before that he was so drunk he didn't know his way home, andso got into the back of the bachelor quarters instead of his own. "Andto think av his bein' propped up at his own gate by a lousy, frog-eatin'half Frinchman, half salvage!" Yet, when investigated, this proved to bethe case, and the further question arose, where did McGann get hiswhiskey? A faithful, loyal devoted old servitor was McGann, yet Webb, aswe have seen, had ever to watch his whiskey carefully lest the Irishmanshould see it, and seeing taste, and tasting fall. The store had ordersfrom Mrs. McGann, countersigned by Webb, to the effect that her husbandwas never to have a drop. Flint was a teetotaller himself, and notedwithout a shadow of disapprobation that the decanters on the sideboardwere both empty the very day he took possession, also that the cupboardwas securely locked. Mrs. McGann was sure her liege got no liquor therenor at the store, and his confused statement that it was given him by"fellers at the stables, " was treated with scorn. McGann then was stillunder marital surveillance and official displeasure the day after Mrs. McGann's revelations, with unexplained iniquities to answer for when hishead cleared and his legs resumed their functions. But by that timeother matters were brought to light that laid still further accusationat his door. With the consent of Dr. Waller, Lieutenant Field had beenallowed to send an attendant for his desk. There were letters, he said, he greatly wished to see and answer, and Mrs. Ray had been so kind as tooffer to act as his amanuensis. The attendant went with the key and cameback with a scared face. Somebody, he said, had been there before him. 

They did not tell Field this at the time. The doctor went at once withthe messenger, and in five minutes had taken in the situation. Field'srooms had been entered and probably robbed. There was only one otheroccupant of the desolate set that so recently had rung to the music ofso many glad young voices. Of the garrison proper at Frayne all thecavalry officers except Wilkins were away at the front; all the infantryofficers, five in number, were also up along the Big Horn. The four whohad come with Flint were strangers to the post, but Herron, who had beena classmate of Ross at the Point, moved into his room and took theresponsibility of introducing the contract doctor, who came with them, into the quarters at the front of the house on the second floor. Theserooms had been left open and unlocked. There was nothing, said thelawful occupant, worth stealing, which was probably true; but Field hadbolted, inside, the door of his sleeping room; locked the hall door ofhis living room and taken the key with him when he rode with Ray. Thedoctor looked over the rooms a moment; then sent for Wilkins, the postquartermaster, who came in a huff at being disturbed at lunch. Field hadbeen rather particular about his belongings. His uniforms always hung oncertain pegs in the plain wooden wardrobe. The drawers of his bureauwere generally arranged like the clothes press of cadet days, as thoughfor inspection, but now coats, blouses, dressingsack and smoking jackethung with pockets turned inside out or flung about the bed and floor. Trousers had been treated with like contempt. The bureau looked likewhat sailors used to call a "hurrah's nest, " and a writing desk, brass-bound and of solid make, that stood on a table by a front window, had been forcibly wrenched open, and its contents were tossed about thefloor. A larger desk, --a wooden field desk--stood upon a trestle acrossthe room, and this, too, had been ransacked. Just what was missing onlyone man could tell. Just how they entered was patent to all--through aglazed window between the bed-room and the now unused dining roombeyond. Just who were the housebreakers no man present could say; butMistress McGann that afternoon communicated her suspicion to hersore-headed spouse, and did it boldly and with the aid of a broomstick. "It's all along, " she said, "av your shtoopin' to dhrink wid them lowlived salvages at Hay's. Now, what d'ye know about this?"

But McGann swore piously he knew nothing "barrin' that Pete and Crapaudhad some good liquor one night--dear knows when it was--an' I helped 'emdhrink your health, --an' when 'twas gone, and more was wanted, sure Petesaid he'd taken a demijohn to the lieutenant's, with Mr. Hay'scompliments, the day before he left for the front, and sure he couldn'thave drunk all av it, and if the back dure was open Pete would inquireanyhow. "

That was all Michael remembered or felt warranted in revealing, forstoutly he declared his and their innocence of having burglariouslyentered any premises, let alone the lieutenant's. "Sure they'd bitetheir own noses off fur him, " said Mike, which impossible feat attestedthe full measure of halfbreed devotion. Mistress McGann decided to makefurther investigation before saying anything to anybody; but, before thedawn of another day, matters took such shape that fear of sorrowfulconsequences, involving even Michael, set a ban on her impulse to speak. Field, it seems, had been at last induced to sleep some hours thatevening, and it was nearly twelve when he awoke and saw his desk on atable near the window. The attendant was nodding in an easy chair; and, just as the young officer determined to rouse him, Mrs. Dade, with thedoctor, appeared on tiptoe at the doorway. For a few minutes they kepthim interested in letters and reports concerning his father's condition, the gravity of which, however, was still withheld from him. Then therewere reports from Tongue River, brought in by courier, that had to betold him. But after a while he would be no longer denied. He demanded tosee his desk and his letters. 

At a sign from the doctor, the attendant raised it from the table andbore it to the bed. "I found things in some confusion in your quarters, Field, " said Waller, by way of preparation, "and I probably haven'tarranged the letters as you would if you had had time. They were lyingabout loosely--"

But he got no further. Field had started up and was leaning on oneelbow. The other arm was outstretched. "What do you mean?" he cried. "The desk hasn't been _opened_?"

Too evidently, however, it had been, and in an instant Field had pulleda brass pin that held in place a little drawer. It popped part way out, and with trembling hands he drew it forth--empty. 

Before he could speak Mrs. Dade suddenly held up her hand in signal forsilence, her face paling at the instant. There was a rush of slipperedfeet through the corridor, a hum of excited voices, and both Dr. Wallerand the attendant darted for the door. 

Outside, in the faint starlight, sound of commotion came from thedirection of the guard-house, --of swift footfalls from far across theparade, of the vitreous jar of windows hastily raised. Two or threelights popped suddenly into view along the dark line of officers'quarters, and Waller's voice, with a ring of authority unusual to him, halted a running corporal of the guard. 

"What is it?" demanded he. 

"I don't know, sir, " was the soldier's answer. "There was an awfulscream from the end quarters--Captain Ray's, sir. " Then on he wentagain. 

And then came the crack, crack of a pistol. 

CHAPTER XVIII

BURGLARY AT BLAKE'S

The doctor started at the heels of the corporal, but was distanced longbefore he reached the scene. The sergeant of the guard was hammering onthe front door of Blake's quarters; but, before the summons was answeredfrom within, Mrs. Ray, in long, loose wrapper, came hurrying forth fromher own--the adjoining--hallway. Her face was white with dread. "It isI, Nannie. Let us in, " she cried, and the door was opened by a terrifiedservant, as the doctor came panting up the steps. Together he and Mrs. Ray hurried in. "Robbers!" gasped the servant girl--"Gone--the backway!" and collapsed on the stairs. Sergeant and corporal both torearound to the west side and out of the rear gate. Not a sign offugitives could they see, and, what was worse, not a sign of sentry. Number 5, of the third relief, should at that moment have been pacingthe edge of the bluff in rear of the northernmost quarters, and yetmight be around toward the flagstaff. "Find Number 5, " were thesergeant's orders, and back he hurried to the house, not knowing what toexpect. By that time others of the guard had got there and theofficer-of-the-day was coming, --the clink of his sword could be hearddown the road, --and more windows were uplifted and more voices werebegging for information, and then came Mrs. Dade, breathless but calm. 

Within doors she found the doctor ministering to a stout female whoseemed to have gone off in an improvised swoon--Mrs. Blake's importedcook. Up the stairs, to her own room again, Mrs. Blake was being led byMarion Ray's encircling arm. Three women were speedily closeted there, for Mrs. Dade was like an elder sister to these two sworn friends, and, not until Mrs. Dade and they were ready, did that lady descend thestairs and communicate the facts to the excited gathering in the parlor, and they in turn to those on the porch in front. By this time Flinthimself, with the poet quartermaster, was on hand, and all Fort Frayneseemed to rouse, and Mrs. Gregg had come with Mrs. Wilkins, and thesetwo had relieved the doctor of the care of the cook, now talkingvolubly; and, partly through her revelations, but mainly through themore coherent statements of Mrs. Dade, were the facts made public. Margaret, the cook, had a room to herself on the ground floor adjoiningher kitchen. Belle, the maid, had been given the second floor back, inorder to be near to her young mistress. Bitzer, the Blakes'man-of-all-work, --like McGann, a discharged soldier, --slept in thebasement at the back of the house, and there was he found, blinking, bewildered and only with difficulty aroused from stupor by a wrathfulsergeant. The cook's story, in brief, was that she was awakened by Mrs. Blake's voice at her door and, thinking Belle was sick, she jumped upand found Mrs. Blake in her wrapper, asking was she, Margaret, up stairsa moment before. Then Mrs. Blake, with her candle, went into the diningroom, and out jumped a man in his stocking feet from the captain's denacross the hall, and knocked over Mrs. Blake and the light, and made forher, the cook; whereat she screamed and slammed her door in his face, and that was really all she knew about it. 

But Mrs. Blake knew more. Awakened by some strange consciousness ofstealthy movement about the house, she called Belle by name, thinkingpossibly the girl might be ill and seeking medicine. There was sound ofmore movement, but no reply. Mrs. Blake's girlhood had been spent on thefrontier. She was a stranger to fear. She arose; struck a light and, seeing no one in her room or the guest chamber and hallway, hastened tothe third room, and was surprised to find Belle apparently quietlysleeping. Then she decided to look about the house and, first, went downand roused the cook. As she was coming out of the dining room, a manleaped past her in the hall, hurling her to one side and dashing out thelight. Her back was toward him, for he came from Gerald's own premisesknown as the den. In that den, directly opposite, was one of herrevolvers, loaded. She found it, even in the darkness and, hurryingforth again, intending to chase the intruder and alarm the sentry at therear, encountered either the same or a second man close to the backdoor, a man who sprang past her like a panther and darted down thesteps at the back of the house, followed by two shots from her Smith &Wesson. One of these men wore a soldier's overcoat, for the cape, rippedfrom the collar seam, was left in her hands. Another soldier's overcoatwas later found at the rear fence, but no boots, shoes or tracksthereof, yet both these men, judging from the sound, had been instocking feet, or possibly rubbers, or perhaps--but that last suspicionshe kept to herself, for Mrs. Hay, too, was now among the arrivals inthe house, full of sympathy and genuine distress. The alarm, then, hadgone beyond the guard-house, and the creators thereof beyond the ken ofthe guard, for not a sentry had seen or heard anything suspicious untilafter the shots; then Number 8, Flint's latest addition, declared thatfrom his post at Hay's corral he had distinctly heard the swifthoofbeats of a brace of ponies darting up the level bench to thewestward. Number 5 had turned up safely, and declared that at the momentthe scream was heard he was round by the flagstaff, listening to thenight chorus of a pack of yelping coyotes, afar out to the northwest, and then he thought he heard scrambling and running down at the foot ofthe bluff just as the shots were fired. Investigation on his part waswhat took him out of sight for the moment, and later investigationshowed that one marauder, at least, had gone that way, for a capelessgreatcoat was found close down by the shore, where some fugitive hadtossed it in his flight. This overcoat bore, half erased from the soiledlining, the name of Culligan, Troop "K;" but Culligan had served outhis time and taken his discharge a year before. The other overcoat waseven older, an infantry coat, with shorter cape, bearing a companynumber "47, " but no name. Both garments savored strongly of the stable. 

Then, before quiet was restored, certain search was made about thequarters. It was found the intruders had obtained admission through thebasement door at the back, which was never locked, for the sentry onNumber 5 had orders to call Bitzer at 5:30 A. M. , to start the fires, milk the cow, etc. , --Hogan, Ray's factotum, being roused about the sametime. The marauders had gone up the narrow stairway into the kitchen, first lashing one end of a leather halter-strap about the knob ofBitzer's door and the other to the base of the big refrigerator, --aneedless precaution, as it took sustained and determined effort, as manya sentry on Number 5 could testify, to rouse Bitzer from even a nap. 

It was no trick for the prowlers to softly raise the trap door leadingto the kitchen, and, once there, the rest of the house was practicallyopen. Such a thing as burglary or sneak thieving about the officers'quarters had been unheard of at Frayne for many a year. One precautionthe visitors had taken, that of unbolting the back door, so that retreatmight not be barred in case they were discovered. Then they had goneswiftly and noiselessly about their work. 

But what had they taken? The silver was upstairs, intact, under Mrs. Blake's bed; so was the little safe in which was kept her jewelry andtheir valuable papers. Books, bric-à-brac, --everything downstairs--seemed unmolested. No item was missing from its accustomedplace. Mrs. Blake thought perhaps the intruders had not entered her roomat all. In Gerald's den were "stacks, " as he said, of relics, souvenirs, trophies of chase and war, but no one thing of the intrinsic value offifty dollars. What could have been the object of their midnight search?was the question all Fort Frayne was asking as people dispersed and wenthome, --the doctor intimating it was high time that Mrs. Blake waspermitted to seek repose. Not until he had practically cleared the houseof all but her most intimate friends, Mrs. Dade and Mrs. Ray, wouldWaller permit himself to ask a question that had been uppermost in hismind ever since he heard her story. 

"Mrs. Blake, someone has been ransacking Mr. Field's quarters forletters or papers. Now, --was there anything of that kind left by thecaptain that--someone may have needed?"

Nannie Blake's head was uplifted instantly from Marion's shoulder. Shehad been beginning to feel the reaction. For one moment the three womenlooked intently into each other's faces. Then up they started andtrooped away into Gerald's den. The doctor followed. The upper drawer ofa big, flat-topped desk stood wide open, and pretty Mrs. Blake openedher eyes and mouth in emulation as she briefly exclaimed--

"It's gone!"

Then Waller went forthwith to the quarters of the commander and caughthim still in conference with his quartermaster and the guard, four orfive of the latter being grouped without. The major retired to his frontroom, where, with Wilkins, he received the doctor. 

"Major Flint, " said Waller, "those overcoats belong to Mr. Hay'sstablemen, --Pete and Crapaud. Will you order their immediate arrest?"

"I would, doctor, " was the answer, "but they are not at the corral. Weknow how to account for the hoofbeats in the valley. Those scoundrelshave got nearly an hour's start, and we've nobody to send in chase. "

Then it presently appeared that the post commander desired to continueconference with his staff officer, for he failed to invite the postsurgeon to be seated. Indeed, he looked up into the doctor's kindlingeyes with odd mixture of impatience and embarrassment in his own, andthe veteran practitioner felt the slight, flushed instantly, and, withmuch _hauteur_ of manner, took prompt but ceremonious leave. 

And when morning came and Fort Frayne awoke to another busy day, as ifthe excitements of the night gone by had not been enough for it, a newstory went buzzing, with the first call for guard mount, about thegarrison; and, bigger even than yesterday, the two details, in soldiersilence, began to gather in front of the infantry quarters. Major Flinthad ordered sentries posted at the trader's home, with directions thatMrs. Hay was not to be allowed outside her gate, and no one, man orwoman, permitted to approach her from without except by expresspermission of the post commander. "General Harney" and "Dan, " the twobest horses of the trader's stable, despite the presence of the sentryat the front, had been abstracted sometime during the earlier hours ofthe night, and later traced to the ford at Stabber's old camp, and withPete and Crapaud, doubtless, were gone. 

That day the major wired to Omaha that he should be reinforced at once. One half his little force, he said, was now mounted each day for guard, and the men couldn't stand it. The general, of course, was in the field, but his chief of staff remained at headquarters and was empowered toorder troops from post to post within the limits of the department. Flint hoped two more companies could come at once, and he did not carewhat post was denuded in his favor. His, he said, was close to theIndian lands, --separated from them, in fact, only by a narrow andfordable river. The Indians were all on the warpath and, aware of hispuny numbers, might be tempted at any moment to quit the mountains andconcentrate on him. Moreover, he was satisfied there had been frequentcommunication between their leaders and the household of the post traderat Fort Frayne. He was sure Mrs. Hay had been giving them valuableinformation, and he expected soon to be able to prove very seriouscharges against her. Meantime, he had placed her under surveillance. (_That_ she had been ever since his coming, although she never realizedit. ) Fancy the sensation created at Omaha, where the Hays were wellknown, when this news was received! Flint did not say "under arrest, "guarded day and night by a brace of sentries who were sorely disgustedwith their duty. He had no doubt his appeals for more troops would behonored, in view of his strenuous representations, but the day passedwithout assurance to that effect and without a wired word to say hisaction regarding Mrs. Hay had been approved. It began to worry him. At 3P. M. Mrs. Hay sent and begged him to call upon her that she mightassure and convince him of her innocence. But this the major found meansto refuse, promising, however a meeting in the near future, after he hadreceived tidings from the front, which he was awaiting and expectingevery moment. He had reluctantly given permission to visit her to Mrs. Dade, Mrs. Ray and two or three other women whose hearts were filledwith sympathy and sorrow, and their heads with bewilderment, over theamazing order. Indeed, it was due to Mrs. Dade's advice that she so fartriumphed over pride and wrath as to ask to see the major and explain. She had received tidings from her husband and Nanette. She was perfectlywilling to admit it, --to tell all about it, --and, now that Pete andCrapaud had turned out to be such unmitigated rascals, to have themcaught and castigated, if caught they could be. But all this involved nodisloyalty. They had always been friendly with the Sioux and the Siouxwith them. Everybody knew it;--no one better than General Crook himself, and if he approved why should a junior disapprove? Indeed, as she askedher friends, what junior who had ever known Mr. Hay and her, or theIndians either, would be apt to disapprove so long as the Indians, whenon the warpath, received no aid or comfort from either her husband orherself? "And if they had, " said she, further, waxing eloquent over hertheme, "could we have _begun_ to give them half the aid or comfort--or athousandth part of the supplies and ammunition--they got day after daythrough the paid agents of the Interior Department?"

But these were questions army people could not properly discuss, --theirmission in life being rather to submit to, than suggest, criticism. 

And so another restless day went by and no more news came from eitherfront or rear--from the range to the north or Rock Springs at the south, and Flint was just formulating another fervid appeal to that impassivefunctionary, the adjutant general at Omaha, when toward evening wordcame whistling down the line in the person of Master Sanford Ray, thattwo couriers were in sight "scooting" in from Moccasin Ridge, and Flintand fully half the soldier strength of Fort Frayne gathered on thenorthward bluff like the "wan burghers" of ancient Rome, to watch andspeed their coming. Who could tell what the day might yet bring forth?

It was well nigh dark before the foremost reached the ford--a scout inworn and tawdry buckskin, wearied and impassive. He gave his despatch tothe care of the first officer to accost him and took the way to thestore, briefly saying in reply to questions, that he was "too dry tospeak the truth. " So they flocked, at respectful distance, about themajor as he read the hurried lines. The general bade the post commanderwire the entire message to Washington, and to take all precautions forthe protection of the few settlers about him. The columns under ColonelHenry and Major Webb had united near the head waters of the Clear Forkof the Powder; had had a rattling running fight with Lame Wolf's people;had driven them into the mountains and were following hot on the trail, but that Stabber's band and certain disaffected Sioux had cut loose fromthe main body and gone south. Whistling Elk, a young chief of muchambition had quarrelled with certain of the Red Cloud element, andjoined Stabber, with his entire band. "Look out for them and watch forsignals any day or night from Eagle Butte. "

Flint read with sinking heart. Indian fighting was something far tooscientific for his martial education and too much for his skeletoncommand. In the gathering dusk his face looked white and drawn, and oldWilkins, breasting his way up the slope, puffed hard, as he begged fornews. There was still another despatch, however, which was evidentlyadding to the major's perturbation, for it concerned him personally andfor the moment Wilkins went unheard. 

 The general desires that you send the couriers back within twenty-four hours of their arrival, after you have had time to scout the line of the Platte say twenty miles each way, giving full report of every Indian seen or heard of. He enjoins vigilance and hopes to keep the Sioux so busy that they can send no more in your direction. Should they do so, however, he will pursue at once. He trusts that you are doing everything possible to comfort and reassure Mrs. Hay, and that you can send good news of Lieutenant Field. 

And this when he had just refused to remove the sentries or to visitMrs. Hay:--this when he had just been told by Dr. Waller that LieutenantField was distinctly worse. 

"He is simply fretting his heart out here, " were the doctor's words tohim but a short time before, "and, while unable to mount a horse, he isquite strong enough now to take the trip by ambulance, slowly, that is, to Rock Springs. I fear his father is failing. I fear Field will fail ifnot allowed to go. I recommend a seven days' leave, with permission toapply to Omaha for thirty--he'll probably need it. "

"I can't permit government teams and ambulances to be used for any suchpurpose, " said the major, stoutly. "It is distinctly against orders. "

"Then, sir, he can go in my spring wagon and we'll hire mules from Mrs. Hay, " was the doctor's prompt reply. "He can do no good here, major. Hemay do much good there. "

But Flint was full of information and official zeal. The matter ofField's going had been broached before, and, when told of it, theWilkins pair had been prompt with their protests. "Of course he'd bewantin' to get away, " said Wilkins, "wid all that money to account for, let alone these other things. " The Irishman was hot against the youngWest Pointer who had derided him. He doubtless believed his own words. He never dreamed how sorely the lad now longed to see his father, --howdeep was his anxiety on that father's account, --how filled withapprehension on his own, for that rifled desk had brought him reason formost painful thought. Wilkins and Field had been antagonistic from thestart. Neither could see good in the other and, egged on by his worthyspouse's exhortations, the quartermaster had seized the opportunity tofill the post commander's too receptive mind with all his ownsuspicions--and this at a crucial time. 

"I can't listen to it, Dr. Waller, " said the major, sternly. "Here's amatter of near a thousand dollars that young man has got to answer forthe moment he is well enough to stir. And if he can't account forit--you well know what my duty will demand. "

CHAPTER XIX

A SLAP FOR THE MAJOR

The columns of Colonel Henry and Major Webb, as said "the Chief, " hadunited, and here were two men who could be counted on to push thepursuit "for all they were worth. " Hitherto, acting in the open countryand free from encumbrance, the Indians had been hard to reach. Now theywere being driven into their fastnesses among the mountains toward thedistant shelter whither their few wounded had been conveyed, and wherethe old men, the women and children were in hiding. Now it meant that, unless the troops could be confronted and thrown back, another transferof tepees and _travois_, ponies and dogs, wounded and aged would have tobe made. Lame Wolf had thought his people safe behind the walls of theBig Horn and the shifting screen of warriors along the foothills, butthe blue skirmish lines pushed steadily on into the fringing pines, driving the feathered braves from ridge to ridge, and Lame Wolf hadsense enough to see that here were leaders that "meant business" andwould not be held. Henry had ten veteran troops at his back when heunited with Webb, who led his own and the Beecher squadron, makingeighteen companies, or troops, of Horse, with their pack mules, all outat the front, while the wagon train and ambulances were thoroughlyguarded by a big battalion of sturdy infantry, nearly all of them goodmarksmen, against whose spiteful Springfields the warriors made only oneessay in force, and that was more than enough. The blue coats emptiedmany an Indian saddle and strewed the prairie with ponies, and sentWhistling Elk and his people to the right about in sore dismay, and thenit dawned on Lame Wolf that he must now either mislead the cavalryleader, --throw him off the track, as it were, --or move the villages, wounded, prisoners and all across the Big Horn river, where hereditaryfoemen, Shoshone and Absaraka, would surely welcome them red-handed. 

It was at this stage of the game he had his final split with Stabber. Stabber was shrewd, and saw unerringly that with other columns out--fromCuster on the Little Horn and Washakie on the Wind River, --withreinforcements coming from north and south, the surrounding of the Siouxin arms would be but a matter of time. He had done much to get Lame Wolfinto the scrape and now was urging hateful measures as, unless they wereprepared for further and heavier losses, the one way out, and that waywas--surrender. 

Now, this is almost the last thing the Indian will do. Not from fear ofconsequences at the hands of his captors, for he well knows that, physically, he is infinitely better off when being coddled by Uncle Samthan when fighting in the field. It is simply the loss of _prestige_among his fellow red men that he hates and dreads. Therefore, nothingshort of starvation or probable annihilation prompts him, as a rule, toyield himself a prisoner. Stabber urged it rather than risk furtherbattle and further loss, but Stabber had long been jealous of theyounger chief, envied him his much larger following and his record as afighter, and Stabber, presumably, would be only too glad to see himfallen from his high estate. They could then enjoy the hospitality of agenerous nation (a people of born fools, said the unreasoning andunregenerate red man) all winter, and, when next they felt sufficientlyslighted to warrant another issue on the warpath, they could take thefield on equal terms. Lame Wolf, therefore, swore he'd fight to thebitter end. Stabber swore he'd gather all his villagers, now herdingwith those of Wolf; and, having segregated his sheep from the morenumerous goats, would personally lead them whither the white man couldnot follow. At all events he made this quarrel the pretext for hiswithdrawal with full five score fighting men, and Lame Wolf cursed himroundly as the wretch deserved and, all short-handed now, with hardlyfive hundred braves to back him, bent his energies to checking Henry'scolumn in the heart of the wild hill country. 

And this was the situation when the general's first despatches were sentin to Frayne, --this the last news to reach the garrison from the distantfront for five long days, and then one morning, when the snow wassifting softly down, there came tidings that thrilled the littlecommunity, heart and soul--tidings that were heard with mingled tearsand prayers and rejoicings, and that led to many a visit ofcongratulation to Mrs. Hay, who, poor woman, dare not say at the momentthat she had known it all as much as twenty-four hours earlier, despitethe fact that Pete and Crapaud were banished from the roll of herauxiliaries. 

Even as the new couriers came speeding through the veil of fallingflakes, riding jubilantly over the wide-rolling prairie with their newsof victory and battle, the post commander at Fort Frayne was puzzlingover a missive that had come to him, he knew not how, mysterious as theanarchists' warnings said to find their way to the very bedside of theguarded Romanoffs. Sentry Number 4 had picked it up on his post an hourbefore the dawn--a letter addressed in bold hand to Major Stanley Flint, commanding Fort Frayne, and, presuming the major himself had dropped it, he turned it over to the corporal of his relief, and so it found its waytoward reveillé into the hands of old McGann, wheezing about his work ofbuilding fires, and Michael laid it on the major's table and thought nomore about it until two hours later, when the major roused and read, andthen a row began that ended only with the other worries of hisincumbency at Frayne. 

Secretly Flint was still doing his best to discover the bearer when camethe bold riders from the north with their thrilling news. Secretly, hehad been over at the guard-house interviewing as best he could, by theaid of an unwilling clerk who spoke a little Sioux, a young Indian girlwhom Crabb's convalescent squad, four in number, had most unexpectedlyrun down when sent scouting five miles up the Platte, and brought, screaming, scratching and protesting back to Frayne. Her pony had beenkilled in the dash to escape, and the two Indians with her seemed to beyoung lads not yet well schooled as warriors, for they rode awaypellmell over the prairie, leaving the girl to the mercy of thesoldiers. Flint believed her to be connected in some way with the comingof the disturbing note, which was why he compelled her detention at theguard-house. Under Webb's _régime_ she would have been questioned byHay, or some one of his household. Under Flint, no one of Hay's familyor retainers could be allowed to see her. He regarded it as mostsignificant that her shrillest screams and fiercest resistance shouldhave been reserved until just as her guardians were bearing her past thetrader's house. She had the little light prison room to herself all thatwintry morning, and there, disdainful of bunk or chair, enveloped in herblanket, she squatted disconsolate, greeting all questioners withdefiant and fearless shruggings and inarticulate protest. Not a syllableof explanation, not a shred of news could their best endeavors wringfrom her. Yet her glittering eyes were surely in search of some one, forshe looked up eagerly every time the door was opened, and Flint was justbeginning to think he would have to send for Mrs. Hay when the courierscame with their stirring news and he had to drop other affairs in orderto forward this important matter to headquarters. 

Once again, it seems, Trooper Kennedy had been entrusted withdistinguished duty, for it was he who came trotting foremost up theroad, waving his despatch on high. A comrade from Blake's troop, following through the ford, had turned to the left and led his horse upthe steep to the quarters nearest the flagstaff. This time there was nobig-hearted post commander to bid the Irishman refresh himself _adlibitum_. Flint was alone at his office at the moment, and knew not thisstrange trooper, and looked askance at his heterodox garb and war-wornguise. Such laxity, said he to himself, was not permitted where _he_ hadhitherto served, which was never on Indian campaign. Kennedy, havingdelivered his despatches, stood mutely expectant of question andstruggling with an Irishman's enthusiastic eagerness to tell the detailsof heady fight. But Flint had but one method of getting at facts--theofficial reports--and Kennedy stood unnoticed until, impatient at last, he queried:--

"Beg pardon, sir, but may we put up our horses?"

"Who's we?" asked the major, bluntly. "And where are the others?"

"Trigg, sir--Captain Blake's troop. He went to the captain's quarterswith a package. "

"He should have reported himself first to the post commander, " said themajor, who deemed it advisable to make prompt impression on these savagehunters of savage game. 

"Thim wasn't his ordhers, surr, " said Kennedy, with zealous, butmisguided loyalty to his comrades and his regiment. 

"No one has a right, sir, to give orders that are contrary in spirit tothe regulations and customs of the service, " answered the commander, with proper austerity. "Mr. Wilkins, " he continued, as the burlyquartermaster came bustling in, "have the other trooper sent to reportat once to me and let this man wait outside till I am ready to see him. "

And so it happened that a dozen members of the garrison gathered, fromthe lips of a participant, stirring particulars of a spirited chase andfight that set soldiers to cheering and women and children toextravagant scenes of rejoicing before the official head of the garrisonwas fairly ready to give out the news. Kennedy had taken satisfactionfor the commander's slights by telling the tidings broadcast to thecrowd that quickly gathered, and, in three minutes, the word was flyingfrom lip to lip that the troops had run down Lame Wolf's main villageafter an all day, all night rush to head them off, and that with verysmall loss they had been able to capture many of the families and toscatter the warriors among the hills. In brief, while Henry, with themain body, had followed the trail of the fighting band, Webb had beendetached and, with two squadrons, had ridden hard after a Shoshone guidewho led them by a short cut through the range and enabled them to pounceon the village where were most of Lame Wolf's noncombatants, guardedonly by a small party of warriors, and, while Captains Billings and Raywith their troops remained in charge of these captives, Webb, with Blakeand the others had pushed on in pursuit of certain braves who hadscampered into the thick of the hills, carrying a few of the wounded andprisoners with them. Among those captured, or recaptured, were Mr. Hayand Crapaud. Among those who had been spirited away was Nanette Flower. This seemed strange and unaccountable. 

And yet Blake had found time to write to his winsome wife, --to send heran important missive and most important bit of news. It was with theseshe came running in to Mrs. Ray before the latter had time to half readthe long letter received from her soldier husband, and we take the factsin the order of their revelation. 

"Think of it, Maidie!" she cried. "Think of it! Gerald's first words, almost, are 'Take good care of that pouch and contents, ' and now pouchand contents are gone! Whoever dreamed that they would be of suchconsequence? He says the newspaper will explain. "

And presently the two bonny heads were bent over the big sheets of adingy, grimy copy of a Philadelphia daily, and there, on an inner page, heavily marked, appeared a strange item, and this Quaker City journalhad been picked up in an Ogalalla camp. The item read as follows:

 AN UNTAMED SIOUX

 The authorities of the Carlisle School and the police of Harrisburg are hunting high and low for a young Indian known to the records of the Academy as Ralph Moreau, but borne on the payrolls of Buffalo Bill's Wild West aggregation as Eagle Wing--a youth who is credited with having given the renowned scout-showman more trouble than all his braves, bronchos and "busters" thereof combined. Being of superb physique and a daring horseman, Moreau had been forgiven many a peccadillo, and had followed the fortunes of the show two consecutive summers until Cody finally had to get rid of him as an intolerable nuisance. 

 It seems that when a lad of eighteen, "Eagle Wing" had been sent to Carlisle, where he ran the gamut of scrapes of every conceivable kind. He spoke English picked up about the agencies; had influential friends and, in some clandestine way, received occasional supplies of money that enabled him to take French leave when he felt like it. He was sent back from Carlisle to Dakota as irreclaimable, and after a year or two on his native heath, reappeared among the haunts of civilization as one of Buffalo Bill's warriors. Bill discharged him at Cincinnati and, at the instance of the Indian Bureau, he was again placed at Carlisle, only to repeat on a larger scale his earlier exploits and secure a second transfer to the Plains, where his opportunities for devilment were limited. Then Cody was induced to take him on again by profuse promises of good behavior, which were kept until Pennsylvania soil was reached two weeks ago, when he broke loose again; was seen in store clothes around West Philadelphia for a few days, plentifully supplied with money, and next he turned up in the streets of Carlisle, where he assaulted an attaché of the school, whose life was barely saved by the prompt efforts of other Indian students. Moreau escaped to Harrisburg, which he proceeded to paint his favorite color that very night, and wound up the entertainment by galloping away on the horse of a prominent official, who had essayed to escort him back to Carlisle. It is believed that he is now in hiding somewhere about the suburbs, and that an innate propensity for devilment will speedily betray him to the clutches of the law. 

A few moments after reading this oddly interesting story the two friendswere in consultation with Mrs. Dade, who, in turn, called in Dr. Waller, just returning from the hospital and a not too satisfactory visit to Mr. Field. There had been a slight change for the better in the condition ofGeneral Field that had enabled Dr. Lorain of Fort Russell and a localphysician to arrange for his speedy transfer to Cheyenne. This had in ameasure relieved the anxiety of Waller's patient, but never yet had theveteran practitioner permitted him to know that he was practically aprisoner as well as a patient. Waller feared the result on sohigh-strung a temperament, and had made young Field believe that, whenstrong and well enough to attempt the journey, he should be sent to RockSprings. Indeed, Dr. Waller had no intention of submitting to MajorFlint's decision as final. He had written personally to the medicaldirector of the department, acquainting him with the facts, and, meanwhile, had withdrawn himself as far as possible, officially andsocially, from the limited circle in which moved his perturbedcommanding officer. 

He was at a distant point of the garrison, therefore, and listening tothe excited and vehement comments of the younger of the three women uponthis strange newspaper story, and its possible connection with mattersat Frayne, at the moment when a dramatic scene was being enacted overbeyond the guard-house. 

Kennedy was still the center of a little group of eager listeners whenPink Marble, factotum of the trader's store, came hurrying forth fromthe adjutant's office, speedily followed by Major Flint. "You may tellMrs. Hay that while I cannot permit her to visit the prisoner, " hecalled after the clerk, "I will send the girl over--under suitableguard. "

To this Mr. Marble merely shrugged his shoulders and went on. He fanciedFlint no more than did the relics of the original garrison. A littlelater Flint personally gave an order to the sergeant of the guard andthen came commotion. 

First there were stifled sounds of scuffle from the interior of theguard-house; then shrill, wrathful screams; then a woman's voiceunlifted in wild upbraidings in an unknown tongue, at sound of whichTrooper Kennedy dropped his rein and his jaw, stood staring one minute;then, with the exclamation: "Mother of God, but I know that woman!"burst his way through the crowd and ran toward the old log blockhouse atthe gate, --the temporary post of the guard. Just as he turned the cornerof the building, almost stumbling against the post commander, there camebursting forth from the dark interior a young woman of the Sioux, daring, furious, raging, and, breaking loose from the grasp of the twoluckless soldiers who had her by the arms, away she darted down theroad, still screaming like some infuriated child, and rushed straightfor the open gateway of the Hays. Of course the guard hastened inpursuit, the major shouting "Stop her! Catch her!" and the men strivingto appear to obey, yet shirking the feat of seizing the fleeing woman. Fancy, then, the amaze of the swiftly following spectators when thetrader's front door was thrown wide open and Mrs. Hay herself sprangforth. Another instant and the two women had met at the gate. Anotherinstant still, and, with one motherly arm twining about the quivering, panting, pleading girl and straining her to the motherly heart, Mrs. Hay's right hand and arm flew up in the superb gesture known the widefrontier over as the Indian signal "Halt!" And halt they did, everymother's son save Kennedy, who sprang to the side of the girl and facedthe men in blue. And then another woman's voice, rich, deep, ringing, powerful, fell on the ears of the amazed, swift-gathering throng, withthe marvellous order: "Stand where you are! You shan't touch a hair ofher head! She's a chief's daughter. She's my own kin and I'll answer forher to the general himself. As for you, " she added, turning now andglaring straight at the astounded Flint, all the pent-up sense of wrath, indignity, shame and wrong overmastering any thought of prudence or of"the divinity that doth hedge" the commanding officer, "As for you, " shecried, "I pity you when our own get back again! God help you, StanleyFlint, the moment my husband sets eyes on you. D'you know the messagethat came to him this day?" And now the words rang louder and clearer, as she addressed the throng. "_I_ do, and so do officers and gentlemenwho'd be shamed to have to shake hands with such as he. He's got myhusband's note about him now, and what my husband wrote was this--'Icharge myself with every dollar you charge to Field, and with thefurther obligation of thrashing you on sight'--and, mark you, he'll doit!"

CHAPTER XX

THE SIOUX SURROUNDED

In the hush of the wintry night, under a leaden sky, with snowflakesfalling thick and fast and mantling the hills in fleecy white, Webb'scolumn had halted among the sturdy pines, the men exchanging muttered, low-toned query and comment, the horses standing with bowed heads, occasionally pawing the soft coverlet and sniffing curiously at thisfilmy barrier to the bunch grass they sought in vain. They had feastedtogether, these comrade troopers and chargers, ere the sun wentdown, --the men on abundant rations of agency bacon, flour and brownsugar, found with black tailed deer and mountain sheep in abundance inthe captured village, and eked out by supplies from the pack train, --thehorses on big "blankets" of oats set before them by sympathetic friendsand masters. Then, when the skies were fairly dark, Webb had orderedlittle fires lighted all along the bank of the stream, leaving the menof Ray's and Billings' troops to keep them blazing through the longnight watches to create the impression among the lurking Sioux that thewhole force was still there, guarding the big village it had captured inthe early afternoon, and then, in silence, the troopers had saddled andjogged away into the heart of the hills, close on the heels of theirguides. 

There had been little time to look over the captures. The main interestof both officers and men, of course, centred in Mr. Hay, who was foundin one of the tepees, prostrate from illness and half frantic from feverand strong mental excitement. He had later tidings from Frayne, itseems, than had his rescuers. He could assure them of the health andsafety of their wives and little ones, but would not tell them what wasamiss in his own household. One significant question he asked: Did anyof them know this new Major Flint? No? Well, God help Flint, if ever he, Hay, got hold of him. 

"He's delirious, " whispered Webb, and rode away in that conviction, leaving him to Ray and Billings. 

Three miles out, on the tortuous trail of the pursued, the column haltedand dismounted among the pines. Then there was brief conference, and theword "Mount" was whispered along the Beecher squadron, while Blake's menstood fast. With a parting clasp of the hand Webb and "Legs" hadreturned to the head of their respective commands, "Legs" and hisfellows to follow steadily the Indian trail through the twisting ravinesof the foothills; Webb to make an all-night forced march, in wide_détour_ and determined effort, to head off the escaping warriors beforethey could reach the rocky fastnesses back of Bear Cliff. Webb's chiefscout "Bat, " chosen by General Crook himself, had been a captive amongthe Sioux through long years of his boyhood, and knew the Big Hornrange as Webb did the banks of the Wabash. "They can stand off athousand soldiers, " said the guide, "if once they get into the rocks. They'd have gone there first off only there was no water. Now there'splenty snow. "

So Blake's instructions were to follow them without pushing, to let themfeel they were being pursued, yet by no means to hasten them, and, ifthe general's favorite scout proved to be all he promised as guide andpathfinder, Webb might reasonably hope by dint of hard night riding, tobe first at the tryst at break of day. Then they would have theretreating Sioux, hampered by their few wounded and certain prisonerswhom they prized, hemmed between rocky heights on every side, and sturdyhorsemen front and rear. 

It was eight by the watch at the parting of the ways. It was 8:30 whenBlake retook the trail, with Sergeants Schreiber and Winsor, the latterborrowed from Ray, far in the van. Even had the ground been hard andstony these keen-eyed soldier scouts could have followed the signsalmost as unerringly as the Indians, for each had had long years ofexperience all over the West; but, despite the steadily falling snow, the traces of hoofs and, for a time, of _travois_ poles could be readilyseen and followed in the dim gray light of the blanketed skies. Somewhere aloft, above the film of cloud, the silvery moon was shining, and that was illumination more than enough for men of their years on thetrail. 

For over an hour Blake followed the windings of a ravine that grewcloser and steeper as it burrowed into the hills. Old game trails are asgood as turnpikes in the eyes of the plainsman. It was when the ravinebegan to split into branches that the problem might have puzzled them, had not the white fleece lain two inches deep on the level when "Lo"made his dash to escape. Now the rough edges of the original impressionwere merely rounded over by the new fallen snow. The hollows and rutsand depressions led on from one deep cleft into another, and by midnightBlake felt sure the quarry could be but a few miles ahead and Bear Cliffbarely five hours' march away. So, noiselessly, the signal "Halt!" wentrearward down the long, dark, sinuous column of twos, and every manslipped out of saddle--some of them stamping, so numb were their feet. With every mile the air had grown keener and colder. They were glad whenthe next word whispered was, "Lead on" instead of "Mount. "

By this time they were far up among the pine-fringed heights, with thebroad valley of the Big Horn lying outspread to the west, invisible asthe stars above, and neither by ringing shot nor winged arrow had theleaders known the faintest check. It seemed as though the Indians, intheir desperate effort to carry off the most important or valued oftheir charges, were bending all their energies to expediting theretreat. Time enough to turn on the pursuers when once the rocks hadclosed about them, --when the wounded were safe in the fastnesses, andthe pursuers far from supports. But, at the foot of a steep ascent, thetwo leading scouts, --rival sergeants of rival troops but devoted friendsfor nearly twenty years, --were seen by the next in column, a singlecorporal following them at thirty yards' distance, to halt and beginpoking at some dark object by the wayside. Then they pushed on again. Adead pony, under a quarter inch coverlet of snow, was what met the eyesof the silently trudging command as it followed. The high-peaked woodensaddle tree was still "cinched" to the stiffening carcass. Either theIndians were pushed for time or overstocked with saddlery. Presentlythere came a low whistle from the military "middleman" between thescouts and a little advance guard. "Run ahead, " growled the sergeantcommanding to his boy trumpeter. "Give me your reins. " And, leaving hishorse, the youngster stumbled along up the winding trail; got hismessage and waited. "Give this to the captain, " was the word sent backby Schreiber, and "this" was a mitten of Indian tanned buckskin, softand warm if unsightly, a mitten too small for a warrior's hand, if everwarrior deigned to wear one, --a mitten the captain examined curiously, as he ploughed ahead of his main body, and then returned to hissubaltern with a grin on his face:

"Beauty draws us with a single hair, " said he, "and can't shake us evenwhen she gives us the mitten. Ross, " he added, after a moment's thought, "remember this. With this gang there are two or three sub-chiefs that weshould get, alive or dead, but the chief end of man, so far as 'K'Troop's concerned, is to capture that girl, unharmed. "

And just at dawn, so gray and wan and pallid it could hardly be toldfrom the pale moonlight of the earlier hours, the dark, snake-likecolumn was halted again, nine miles further in among the wooded heights. With Bear Cliff still out of range and sight, something had stopped thescouts, and Blake was needed at the front. He found Schreiber crouchingat the foot of a tree, gazing warily forward along a southward-slopingface of the mountain that was sparsely covered with tall, straightpines, and that faded into mist a few hundred yards away. Thetrail, --the main trail, that is, --seemed to go straight away eastward, and, for a short distance, downward through a hollow or depression;while, up the mountain side to the left, the north, following the spuror shoulder, there were signs as of hoof tracks, half sheeted by thenew-fallen snow, and through this fresh, fleecy mantlet ploughed thetrooper boots in rude, insistent pursuit. The sergeants' horses wereheld by a third soldier a few yards back behind the spur, for Winsor was"side scouting" up the heights. 

The snowfall had ceased for a time. The light was growing broader everymoment, and presently a soft whistle sounded somewhere up the steep, andSchreiber answered. "He wants us, sir, " was all he said, and in fiveminutes they had found him, sprawled on his stomach on a projectingledge, and pointing southeastward, where, boldly outlined against thegray of the morning sky, a black and beetling precipice towered fromthe mist-wreathed pines at its base. Bear Cliff beyond a doubt!

"How far, sergeant?" asked the captain, never too reliant on his powersof judging distance. 

"Five miles, sir, at least; yet some three or four Indians have turnedoff here and gone--somewhere up there. " And, rolling half over, Winsorpointed again toward a wooded bluff, perhaps three hundred feet higherand half a mile away. "That's probably the best lookout this side of thecliff itself!" he continued, in explanation, as he saw the puzzled lookon the captain's face. "From there, likely, they can see the trail overthe divide--the one Little Bat is leading the major and, if they've madeany time at all, the squadron should be at Bear Cliff now. "

They were crawling to him by this time, Blake and Schreiber, among thestunted cedars that grew thickly along the rocky ledge. Winsor, flatagain on his stomach, sprawled like a squirrel close to the brink. Everymoment as the skies grew brighter the panorama before them became moreextensive, a glorious sweep of highland scenery, of boldly tossingridges east and south and west--the slopes all mantled, the trees alltipped, with nature's ermine, and studded now with myriad gems, takingfire at the first touch of the day god's messenger, as the mighty kinghimself burst his halo of circling cloud and came peering over the lowcurtain far at the eastward horizon. Chill and darkness and shroudingvapor vanished all in a breath as he rose, dominant over countlessleagues of wild, unbroken, yet magnificent mountain landscape. 

"Worth every hour of watch and mile of climb!" muttered Blake. "But it'sIndians, not scenery, we're after. What are we here for, Winsor?" andnarrowly he eyed Ray's famous right bower. 

"If the major got there first, sir, --and I believe he did, --they have tosend the prisoners and wounded back this way. "

"Then we've got 'em!" broke in Schreiber, low-toned, but exultant. "Looksir, " he added, as he pointed along the range. "They are signallingnow. "

From the wooded height ten hundred yards away, curious little puffs ofsmoke, one following another, were sailing straight for the zenith, andBlake, screwing his field glasses to the focus, swept with them themountain side toward the five-mile distant cliff, and presently themuscles about his mouth began to twitch--sure sign with Blake ofgathering excitement. 

"You're right, sergeant, " he presently spoke, repressing the desire toshout, and striving, lest Winsor should be moved to invidiouscomparisons, to seem as _nonchalant_ as Billy Ray himself. "They'recoming back already. " Then down the mountain side he dove to plan andprepare appropriate welcome, leaving Winsor and the glasses to keepdouble powered watch on the situation. 

Six-fifty of a glorious, keen November morning, and sixty troopers ofthe old regiment were distributed along a spur that crossed, almost atright angles, the line of the Indian trail. Sixty fur-capped, rough-coated fellows, with their short brown carbines in hand, crouchingbehind rocks and fallen trees, keeping close to cover and warned toutter silence. Behind them, two hundred yards away, their horses werehuddled under charge of their disgusted guards, envious of their fellowsat the front, and cursing hard their luck in counting off as numberfour. Schreiber had just come sliding, stumbling, down from Winsor'sperch to say they could hear faint sound of sharp volleying far out tothe eastward, where the warriors, evidently, were trying to "stand off"Webb's skirmish line until the _travois_ with the wounded and the escortof the possible prisoners should succeed in getting back out of harm'sway and taking surer and higher trail into the thick of the wildernessback of Bear Cliff. "Some of 'em must come in sight here in a minute, sir, " panted the veteran sergeant. "We could see them plainly upthere--a mule litter and four _travois_, and there must be a dozen insaddle. "

A dozen there were, for along the line of crouching men went suddenthrill of excitement. Shoulders began to heave; nervous thumbs bore downon heavy carbine hammers, and there was sound of irrepressible stir andmurmur. Out among the pines, five hundred yards away, two mountedIndians popped suddenly into view, two others speedily following, theirwell-nigh exhausted ponies feebly shaking their shaggy, protestingheads, as their riders plied the stinging quirt or jabbed with cruellance; only in painful jog trot could they zig zag through the trees. Then came two warriors, leading the pony of a crippled comrade. "Don'tfire--Don't harm them! Fall back from the trail there and let them in. They'll halt the moment they see our tracks! Get 'em alive, ifpossible!" were Blake's rapid orders, for his eyes were eagerly fixed onother objects beyond these dejected leaders--upon stumbling mules, lashed fore and aft between long, spliced saplings and bearing thus arude litter--Hay's pet wheelers turned to hospital use. An Indian boy, mounted, led the foremost mule; another watched the second; while, oneach side of the occupant of this Sioux palanquin, jogged a blanketedrider on jaded pony. Here was a personage of consequence--luckier muchthan these others following, dragged along on _travois_ whose trailingpoles came jolting over stone or hummock along the rugged path. It wason these that Blake's glittering eyes were fastened. "Pounce on theleaders, you that are nearest!" he ordered, in low, telling tones, themen at his left; then turned to Schreiber, crouching close beside him, the fringe of his buckskin hunting shirt quivering over his boundingheart. "There's the prize I want, " he muttered low. "Whatever you do, let no shot reach that litter. Charge with me the moment the leadersyell. You men to the right, " he added, slightly raising his voice, "beready to jump with me. Don't shoot anybody that doesn't show fight. Nabeverything in sight. "

[Illustration: "CHARGE WITH ME THE MOMENT THE LEADERS YELL. "]

"Whoo-oop!" All in a second the mountain woke, the welkin rang, to ayell of warning from the lips of the leading Sioux. All in a secondthey whirled their ponies about and darted back. All in that secondBlake and his nearmost sprang to their feet and flung themselves forwardstraight for the startled convoy. In vain the few warriors bravelyrallied about their foremost wounded; the unwieldy litter could not turnabout; the frantic mules, crazed by the instant pandemonium of shoutsand shots, --the onward rush of charging men, --the awful screams of abrace of squaws, broke from their leading reins; crashed with theirlitter against the trees, hurling the luckless occupant to earth. Backdrove the unhit warriors before the dash of the cheering line. Down wentfirst one pony, then a second, in his bloody tracks. One after another, litter, _travois_, wounded and prisoner, was clutched and seized bystalwart hands, and Blake, panting not a little, found himself bendingstaring over the prostrate form flung from the splintered wreck of thelitter, a form writhing in pain that forced no sound whatever frombetween grimly clinching teeth, yet that baffled effort, almost superb, to rise and battle still--a form magnificent in its proportions, yethelpless through wounds and weakness. Not the form Blake thought to see, of shrinking, delicate, dainty woman, but that of the furious warriorwho thrice had dared him on the open field--the red brave well known tohim by sight and deed within the moon now waning, but, only within theday gone by, revealed to him as the renegade Ralph Moreau, --Eagle Wingof the Ogalalla Sioux. 

Where then was Nanette?

"Look out for this man, corporal!" he called, to a shouting youngtrooper. "See that no harm comes to him. " Then quickly he ran on to thehuddle of _travois_. Something assured him she could not be far away. The first drag litter held another young warrior, sullen and speechlesslike the foremost. The next bore a desperately wounded brave whosebloodless lips were compressed in agony and dumb as those of the dead. About these cowered, shivering and whimpering, two or threeterror-stricken squaws, one of them with a round-eyed pappoose staringat her back. A pony lay struggling in the snow close by. Half a dozenrough soldier hands were dragging a stricken rider from underneath. Halfa dozen more were striving to control the wild plungings of anothermettlesome little beast, whose rider, sitting firmly astride, lashedfirst at his quivering flank and then at the fur gauntleted hands, --evenat the laughing, bearded faces--sure sign of another squaw, and a gameone. Far out to the front the crackle of carbine and rifle told thatWebb was driving the scattered braves before him, --that the comradesquadron was coming their way, --that Bear Cliff had been sought by theSioux in vain, --that Indian wiles and strategy, Indian pluck and stayingpower, all had more than met their match. Whatever the fate of LameWolf's fighting force, now pressed by Henry's column, far in thesouthward hills, here in sight of the broad Big Horn valley, the whitechief had struck a vital blow. Village, villagers, wounded and prisonerswere all the spoil of the hated soldiery. Here at the scene of Blake'sminor affair there appeared still in saddle just one undaunted, unconquered amazon whose black eyes flashed through the woolen hood thathid the rest of her face, whose lips had uttered as yet no sound, butfrom whom two soldiers recoiled at the cry of a third. "Look at the handof her, fellers! It's whiter than mine!"

"That's all right, Lanigan, " answered the jovial voice of the leaderthey loved and laughed with. "Hold that pony steady. Now, byyour-ladyship's leave, " and two long, sinewy arms went circling aboutthe shrinking rider's waist, and a struggling form was liftedstraightway out of saddle and deposited, not too gracefully, on itsmoccasined feet. "We will remove this one impediment to your speech, "continued Blake, whereat the muffling worsted was swiftly unwound, "andthen we will listen to our meed of thanks. Ah, no wonder you did notneed a side-saddle that night at Frayne. You ride admirably _àcalifourchon_. My compliments, Mademoiselle La Fleur; or should Isay--Madame Moreau. "

For all answer Blake received one quick, stinging slap in the face fromthat mittenless little right hand. 

CHAPTER XXI

THANKSGIVING AT FRAYNE

Thanksgiving Day at Frayne! Much of the garrison was still afield, bringing back to their lines and, let us hope, to their senses, theremnant of Stabber's band, chased far into the Sweetwater Hills beforethey would stop, while Henry's column kept Lame Wolf in such activemovement the misnamed chieftain richly won his later sobriquet "TheSkipper. " The general had come whirling back from Beecher in his Concordwagon, to meet Mr. Hay as they bore that invalid homeward from the BigHorn. Between the fever-weakened trader and the famous frontier soldierthere had been brief conference--all that the doctors felt they couldallow--and then the former had been put to bed under the care of hisdevoted wife, while the latter, without so much as sight of a pillow, had set forth again out Sweetwater way to wind up the campaign. Thistime he went in saddle, sending his own team over the range of theMedicine Bow to carry a convalescent subaltern to the side of a strickenfather; the sender ignorant, possibly, of the post commander'sprohibition; ignoring it, if, as probable, it was known to him. The goodold doctor himself had bundled the grateful lad and sent a specialhospital attendant with him. Mrs. Dade and her devoted allies up the rowhad filled with goodies a wonderful luncheon basket, while Mrs. Hay hadsent stores of wine for the use of both invalids, and had come downherself to see the start, for, without a word indicative of reproof, thegeneral had bidden Flint remove the blockade, simply saying he wouldassume all responsibility, both for Mrs. Hay and the young Indian girl, given refuge under the trader's roof until the coming of her own peoplestill out with Stabber's band. Flint could not fathom it. He could onlyobey. 

And now, with the general gone and Beverly Field away, with Hay home andsecluded, by order, from all questioning or other extraneous worry; withthe wounded soldiers safely trundled into hospital, garrison interestseemed to centre for the time mainly in that little Ogalallamaid--Flint's sole Sioux captive--who was housed, said the muchinterrogated domestic, in Mrs. Hay's own room instead of Miss Flower's, while the lady of the house, when she slept at all, occupied a sofa nearher husband's bedside. 

Then came the tidings that Blake, with the prisoners from No Wood Creekand Bear Cliff was close at hand, and everybody looked with eager eyesfor the coming across the snowy prairie of that homeward boundconvoy--that big village of the Sioux, with its distinguished captives, wounded and unwounded; one of the former, the young sub-chief EagleWing, alias Moreau;--one of the latter a self-constituted martyr, sinceshe was under no official restraint, --Nanette Flower, hovering everabout the litter bearing that sullen and still defiant brave, whose sideshe refused to leave. 

Not until they reached Fort Frayne; not until the surgeon, after carefulexamination, declared there was no need of taking Moreau intohospital, --no reason why he should not be confined in the prison room ofthe guard-house, --were they able to induce the silent, almost desperategirl to return to her aunt. Not until Nanette realized that her warriorwas to be housed within wooden walls whence she would be excluded, couldMrs. Hay, devoted to the last, persuade the girl to reoccupy her oldroom and to resume the dress of civilization. Barring that worsted hood, she was habited like a chieftain's daughter, in gaily beaded andembroidered garments, when recaptured by Blake's command. Once withinthe trader's door, she had shut herself in her old room, the secondfloor front, refusing to see anybody from outside the house, unless shecould be permitted to receive visits from the captive Sioux, and thisthe major, flintily, forebade. It was nightfall when the litter-bearersreached the post, Hay's rejoicing mules braying unmelodious ecstasy atsight of their old stable. It was dark when the wounded chief was borneinto the guard-house, uttering not a sound, and Nanette was led withinthe trader's door, yet someone had managed to see her face, for thestory went all over the wondering post that very night, --women flittingwith it from door to door, --that every vestige of her beauty wasgone;--she looked at least a dozen years older. Blake, when questioned, after the first rapture of the home-coming had subsided, would neitheraffirm nor deny. "She would neither speak to me nor harken, " said he, whimsically. "The only thing she showed was teeth and--temper. "

Then presently they sent a lot of the Sioux--Stabber's villagers andLame Wolf's combined, --by easy stages down the Platte to Laramie, andthen around by Rawhide and the Niobrara to the old Red Cloud agency, there to be fed and coddled and cared for, wounded warriors and all, except a certain few, including this accomplished orator and chieftain, convalescing under guard at Frayne. About his case there hung detailsand complications far too many and intricate to be settled short of acommission. Already had the tidings of this most important capturereached the distant East. Already both Indian Bureau and Peace Societieshad begun to wire the general in the field and "work" the President andthe Press at home. Forgotten was the fact that he had been anintolerable nuisance to Buffalo Bill and others who had undertaken toeducate and civilize him. The Wild West Show was now amazing Europeancapitals and, therefore, beyond consulting distance. Forgotten wereescapades at Harrisburg, Carlisle and Philadelphia. Suppressed werecircumstances connecting him with graver charges than those of repeatedroistering and aggravated assault. Ignored, or as yet unheard, were thedetails of his reappearance on the frontier in time to stir up most ofthe war spirit developed that September, and to take a leading part inthe fierce campaign that followed. He was a pupil of the nation, saidthe good people of the Indian Friends Societies--a youth of exceptionalintelligence and promise, a son of the Sioux whose influence would be ofpriceless value could he be induced to complete his education and acceptthe views and projects of his eastern admirers. It would never do to lethis case be settled by soldiers, settlers and cowboys, saidphilanthropy. They would hang him, starve him, break his spirit at thevery least. (They were treating him particularly well just now, as hehad sense enough to see. ) There must be a deputation, --a committee to goout at once to the West, with proper credentials, per diem, mileage andclerks, to see to it that these unfortunate children of the mountain andprairie were accorded fair treatment and restored to their rights, especially this brilliant young man Moreau. The general was beyond reachand reasoning with, but there was Flint, eminent for his piety, anduntrammelled in command; Flint, with aspirations of his own, the veryman to welcome such influence as theirs, and, correspondingly, to giveear to their propositions. Two days after the safe lodgment of EagleWing behind the bars, the telegrams were coming by dozens, and one weekafter that deserved incarceration Fort Frayne heard with mildbewilderment the major's order for Moreau's transfer to the hospital. Bythat time letters, too, were beginning to come, and, two nights afterthis removal to the little room but lately occupied by LieutenantField--this very Thanksgiving night, in fact, --the single sentry at thedoor stood attention to the commanding officer, who in person usheredin a womanly form enveloped in hooded cloak, and with bowed head NanetteFlower passed within the guarded portal, which then closed behind herand left her alone with her wounded brave. 

Blake and Billings had been sent on to Red Cloud, guarding thepresumably repentant Ogalallas. Webb, Ray, Gregg and Ross were stillafield, in chase of Stabber. Dade, with four companies of infantry, wasin the Big Horn guarding Henry's wagon train. There was no one now atFrayne in position to ask the new commander questions, for Dr. Wallerhad avoided him in every possible way, but Waller had nobly done thework of his noble profession. Moreau, or Eagle Wing, was mending so veryfast there was no reason whatever why the doctor should object to hisreceiving visitors. It was Flint alone who would be held responsible ifanything went wrong. Yet Fort Frayne, to a woman, took fire at themajor's action. Two days previous he might have commanded the support ofMrs. Wilkins, but Nanette herself had spoiled all chance of that. Itseems the lady had been to call at Mrs. Hay's the previous day--thatMrs. Hay had begged to be excused, --that Mrs. Wilkins had thenpersisted, possibly as a result of recent conference with Flint, and hadbidden the servant say she'd wait until Miss Flower could come down, andso sailed on into the parlor, intent on seeing all she could of both thehouse and its inmates. But not a soul appeared. Mrs. Hay was watchingover her sleeping husband, whose slow recovery Flint was noting withunimpatient eye. Voices low, yet eager, could be heard aloft inNanette's room. The servant, when she came down, had returned without aword to the inner regions about the kitchen, and Mrs. Wilkins's waitbecame a long one. At last the domestic came rustling through the lowerfloor again, and Mrs. Wilkins hailed. Both were Irish, but one was thewife of an officer and long a power, if not indeed a terror, in theregiment. The other feared the quartermaster's wife as little as Mrs. Wilkins feared the colonel's, and, when ordered to stand and say why shebrought no answer from Miss Flower, declined to stand, but decidedlysaid she brought none because there was none. 

"Did ye tell her I'd wait?" said Mrs. Wilkins. 

"I did, " said Miss McGrath, "an' she said 'Let her, ' an' so I did. " Thenin came Mrs. Hay imploring hush, and, with rage in her Hibernian heart, the consort of the quartermaster came away. 

There was not one woman in all Fort Frayne, therefore, to approve themajor's action in permitting this wild girl to visit the wilder Indianpatient. Mrs. Hay knew nothing of it because Nanette well understoodthat there would be lodged objection that she dare not disregard--heruncle's will. One other girl there was, that night at Frayne, who markedher going and sought to follow and was recalled, restrained at the verythreshold by the sound of a beloved voice softly, in the Sioux tongue, calling her name. One other girl there was who knew not of her going, who shrank from thought of meeting her at any time, --in any place, --andyet was destined to an encounter fateful in its results in every way. 

Just as tattoo was sounding on the infantry bugle, Esther Dade satreading fairy stories at the children's bedside in the quarters ofSergeant Foster, of her father's company. There had been Thanksgivingdinner with Mrs. Ray, an Amazonian feast since all their lords werestill away on service, and Sandy Ray and Billy, Jr. , were perhaps tooyoung to count. Dinner was all over by eight o'clock, and, despite somemerry games, the youngsters' eyes were showing symptoms of the sandman'scoming, when that privileged character, Hogan, Ray's long-tried troopernow turned _major domo_, appeared at the doorway of the little armyparlor. He had been bearer of a lot of goodies to the children among thequarters of the married soldiers, and now, would Mrs. Dade please speakwith Mrs. Foster, who had come over with him, and Mrs. Dade departed forthe kitchen forthwith. Presently she returned. "I'm going back awhilewith Mrs. Foster, " said she. "She's sitting up to-night with poor Mrs. Wing, who--" But there was no need of explanation. They all knew. Theyhad laid so recently their wreaths of evergreen on the grave of thegallant soldier who fell, fighting at the Elk, and now another helplesslittle soul had come to bear the buried name, and all that were left formother and babe was woman's boundless charity. It was Thanksgivingnight, and while the wail of the bereaved and stricken went up from morethan one of these humble tenements below the eastward bluff, there werescores of glad and grateful hearts that lifted praise and thanksgivingto the throne on high, even though they knew not at the moment but thatthey, too, might, even then, be robbed of all that stood between themand desolation. Once it happened in the story of our hard-fighting, hard-used little army that a bevy of fair young wives, nearly half ascore in number, in all the bravery of their summer toilets, sat in theshadow of the flag, all smiles and gladness and applause, joining in thegarrison festivities on the Nation's natal day, never dreaming of theawful news that should fell them ere the coming of another sun; that oneand all they had been widowed more than a week; that the men they loved, whose names they bore, lay hacked and mutilated beyond recognitionwithin sight of those very hills where now the men from Frayne werefacing the same old foe. In the midst of army life we are, indeed, indeath, and the thanksgiving of loving ones about the fireside formercies thus far shown, is mingled ever with the dread of what themorrow may unfold. 

"Let me go, too, mamma, " was Esther's prompt appeal, as she heard hermother's words. "I can put the children to bed while you and Mrs. Fosterare over there. "

And so with Hogan, lantern bearing, mother and daughter had followed thesergeant's wife across the broad, snow-covered parade; had passedwithout comment, though each was thinking of the new inmate, thebrightly-lighted hospital building on the edge of the plateau, anddescended the winding pathway to the humble quarters of the marriedsoldiers, nestling in the sheltered flats between the garrison properand the bold bluffs that again close bordered the rushing stream. Andhere at Sergeant Foster's doorway Esther parted from the elders, and waswelcomed by shrieks of joy from three sturdy little cherubs--thesergeant's olive branches, and here, as the last notes of tattoo wentechoing away under the vast and spangled sky, one by one her chargesclosed their drooping lids and dropped to sleep and left their gentlefriend and reader to her own reflections. 

There was a soldier dance that night in one of the vacant messrooms. Flint's two companies were making the best of their isolation, andfound, as is not utterly uncommon, quite a few maids and matrons amongthe households of the absent soldiery quite willing to be consoled andcomforted. There were bright lights, therefore, further along the edgeof the steep, beyond those of the hospital, and the squeak of fiddle anddrone of 'cello, mingled with the plaintive piping of the flute, wereheard at intervals through the silence of the wintry night. No tramp ofsentry broke the hush about the little rift between the heights--themajor holding that none was necessary where there were so many dogs. Most of the soldiers' families had gone to the dance; all of the youngerchildren were asleep; even the dogs were still, and so, when at teno'clock Esther tiptoed from the children's bedside and stood under thestarlight, the murmur of the Platte was the only sound that reached herears until, away over at the southwest gate the night guards began thelong-drawn heralding of the hour. "Ten o'clock and all's well" it wentfrom post to post along the west and northward front, but when NumberSix, at the quartermaster's storehouse near the southeast corner, shouldhave taken up the cry where it was dropped by Number Five, afar overnear the flagstaff, there was unaccountable silence. Six did not utter asound. 

Looking up from the level of "Sudstown, " as it had earlier been named, Esther could see the black bulk of the storehouse close to the edge ofthe plateau. Between its westward gable end and the porch of thehospital lay some fifty yards of open space, and through this gap nowgleamed a spangled section of the western heavens. Along the bluff, justunder the crest, ran a pathway that circled the southeastward corner andled away to the trader's store, south of the post. Tradition had it thatthe track was worn by night raiders, bearing contraband fluids fromstore to barracks in the days before such traffic was killed by thatcommon sense promoter of temperance, soberness and chastity--the postexchange. Along that bluff line, from the storehouse toward thehospital, invisible, doubtless, from either building or from the bluffitself, but thrown in sharp relief against that rectangular inlet ofstarry sky, two black figures, crouching and bearing some long, flatobject between them, swift and noiseless were speeding toward thehospital. The next instant they were lost in the black background ofthat building. Then, as suddenly and a moment later, one of themreappeared, just for a moment, against the brightly lightedwindow, --the southernmost window on the easterward side--the window ofthe room that had been Beverly Field's--the window of the room now givenover to Eagle Wing, the Sioux, --the captive for whose safe keeping aspecial sentry within the building, and this strangely silent Number Sixwithout, were jointly responsible. Then that silhouetted figure wasblotted from her sight in general darkness, for the lights within assuddenly went out. 

And at that very moment a sound smote upon her ear, unaccountable atthat hour and that side of the garrison--hoofbeats swiftly coming downinto the hollow from the eastward bluff, --hoofbeats and low, excitedvoices. Foster's little house was southernmost of the settlement. Theground was open between it and the heights, and despite the low, cautious tones, Esther heard the foremost rider's muttered, angeringwords. "Dam fool! Crazy! Heap crazy! Too much hurry. Ought t' let himcall off first!" Then an answer in guttural Sioux. 

And then in an instant it dawned upon the girl that here was new crime, new bloodshed, perhaps, and a plot to free a villianous captive. Herfirst thought was to scream for aid, but what aid could she summon? Nota man was within hail except these, the merciless haters of her race andname. To scream would be to invite their ready knives to her heart--tothe heart of any woman who might rush to her succor. The cry died in herthroat, and, trembling with dread and excitement, she clung to the doorpost and crouched and listened, for stifled mutterings could be heard, a curse or two in vigorous English, a stamping of impatient ponies, awarning in a woman's tone. Then, thank God! Up at the storehouse cornera light came dancing into view. In honest soldier tones boomed out thequery "What's the matter, Six?" and then, followed by a scurry of hoofs, a mad lashing of quirts, a scramble and rush of frightened steeds, and acursing of furious tongues, her own brave young voice rang out on thenight. "This way, sergeant! Help--Quick!"

Black forms of mounts and riders sped desperately away, and then withall the wiry, sinewy strength of her lithe and slender form, Estherhurled herself upon another slender figure, speeding after these, afoot. Desperately she clung to it in spite of savage blows and strainings. Andso they found her, as forth they came, --a rush of shrieking, startled, candle-bearing women, --of bewildered and unconsciously blasphemous menof the guard--her arms locked firmly about a girl in semi-savage garb. The villain of the drama had been whisked away, leaving the woman whosought to save him to the mercy of the foe. 

CHAPTER XXII

BEHIND THE BARS

In the whirl and excitement following the startling outcry from theflats, all Fort Frayne was speedily involved. The guard came rushingthrough the night, Corporal Shannon stumbling over a prostrateform, --the sentry on Number Six, gagged and bound. The steward shoutedfrom the hospital porch that Eagle Wing, the prisoner patient, hadescaped through the rear window, despite its height above the slopingground. A little ladder, borrowed from the quartermaster's corral, wasfound a moment later. An Indian pony, saddled Sioux fashion, was caughtrunning, riderless, toward the trader's back gate, his horsehair bridletorn half way from his shaggy head. Sergeant Crabb, waiting for noorders from the major, no sooner heard that Moreau was gone, than herushed his stable guard to the saddleroom, and in fifteen minutes had, not only his own squad, but half a dozen "casual" troopers circling thepost in search of the trail, and in less than half an hour was hot inchase of two fleeing horsemen, dimly seen ahead through the starlight, across the snowy wastes. That snowfall was the Sioux's undoing. Withoutit the trail would have been invisible at night. With it, the pursuedwere well-nigh hopeless from the start. Precious time had been lost incircling far out south of the post before making for the ford, whitherCrabb's instinct sent him at once, to the end that he and two of hisfellows ploughed through the foaming waters, barely five hundred yardsbehind the chase, and, as they rode vehemently onward through thestarlight, straining every nerve, they heard nothing of the happeningsabout the Fosters' doorway, where by this time post commander, postsurgeon, post quartermaster and acting post adjutant, post ordnance, quartermaster and commissary sergeants, many of the post guard and mostof the post laundresses had gathered--some silent, anxious andbewildered, some excitedly babbling; while, within the sergeant'sdomicile, Esther Dade, very pale and somewhat out of breath, was tryingwith quiet self possession to answer the myriad questions poured at her, while Dr. Waller was ministering to the dazed and moaning sentry, and, in an adjoining tenement, a little group had gathered about anunconscious form. Someone had sent for Mrs. Hay, who was silently, tearfully chafing the limp and almost lifeless hands of a girl in Indiangarb. The cloak and skirts of civilization had been found beneath thewindow of the deserted room, and were exhibited as a means of bringingto his senses a much bewildered major, whose first words on entering thehut gave rise to wonderment in the eyes of most of his hearers, and toan impulsive reply from the lips of Mrs. Hay. 

"I warned the general that girl would play us some Indian trick, but heordered her release, " said Flint, and with wrathful emphasis came theanswer. 

"The general warned you _this_ girl would play you a trick, and, thanksto no one but you, she's done it!"

Then rising and stepping aside, the long-suffering woman revealed thepallid, senseless face, --not of the little Indian maid, her shrinkingcharge and guest, --but of the niece she loved and had lived and lied formany and trying years--Nanette La Fleur, a long-lost sister's onlychild. 

So Blake knew what he was talking about that keen November morning amongthe pines at Bear Cliff. He had unearthed an almost forgotten legend ofold Fort Laramie. 

But the amaze and discomfiture of the temporary post commander turnedthis night of thanksgiving, so far as he was concerned, into somethingpurgatorial. The sight of his sentry, bound, gagged and bleeding, --thediscovery of the ladder and of the escape of the prisoner, for whom hewas accountable, had filled him with dismay, yet for the moment failedto stagger his indomitable self esteem. There had been a plot, ofcourse, and the instant impulse of his soul was to fix the blame onothers and to free himself. An Indian trick, of course, and who but thelittle Indian maid within the trader's gates could be the instrument!Through her, of course, the conspirators about the post had been enabledto act. She was the general's _protegée_, not his, and the general mustshoulder the blame. Even when Flint saw Nanette, self convicted throughher very garb and her presence at the scene of the final struggle, --evenwhen assured it was she and not the little Ogalalla girl who had beencaught in the act, --that the latter, in fact, had never left thetrader's house, his disproportioned mind refused to grasp the situation. Nanette, he declared, with pallid face, "must have been made a victim. ""Nothing could have been farther from her thoughts than complicity inthe escape of Eagle Wing. " "She had every reason to desire hisrestoration to health, strength and to the fostering care of the goodand charitable body of Christian people interested in his behalf. " "Allthis would be endangered by his attempt to rejoin the warriors on thewarpath. " The major ordered the instant arrest of the sentry stationedat the door of the hospital room--shut out by the major's own act fromall possibility of seeing what was going on within. He ordered underarrest the corporal of the relief on post for presumable complicity, and, mindful of a famous case of Ethiopian skill then new in the publicmind, demanded of Dr. Waller that he say in so many words that the gagand wrist thongs on the prostrate sentry had not been self applied. Waller impassively pointed to the huge lump at the base of thesufferer's skull, "Gag and bonds he might have so placed, after muchassiduous practice, " said he, "but no man living could hit himself sucha blow at the back of the head. "

"Who could have done it, then?" asked Flint. It was inconceivable toWaller's mind that any one of the soldiery could have been tempted tosuch perfidy for an Indian's sake. There was not at the moment anIndian scout or soldier at the post, or an Indian warrior, not aprisoner, unaccounted for. There had been halfbreeds hanging about thestore prior to the final escapade of Pete and Crapaud, but these hadrealized their unpopularity after the battle on the Elk, and haddeparted for other climes. Crapaud was still under guard. Pete was stillat large, perchance, with Stabber's braves. There was not another manabout the trader's place whom Flint or others could suspect. Yet thesergeant of the guard, searching cautiously with his lantern about thepost of Number Six, had come upon some suggestive signs. The snow wastrampled and bloody about the place where the soldier fell, and therewere here and there the tracks of moccasined feet, --those of a youngwoman or child going at speed toward the hospital, running, probably, and followed close by a moccasined man. Then those of the man, alone, went sprinting down the bluff southeastward over the flats some distancesouth of the Foster's doorway and up the opposite bluff, to a pointwhere four ponies, shoeless, had been huddled for as much, perhaps, ashalf an hour. Then all four had come scampering down close together intothe space below the hospital, not fifty yards from where the sentryfell, and the moccasined feet of a man and woman had scurried down thebluff from the hospital window, to meet them west of Foster's shanty. Then there had been confusion, --trouble of some kind: One pony, pursueda short distance, had broken away; the others had gone pounding outsoutheastward up the slope and out over the uplands, then down again, inwide sweep, through the valley of the little rivulet and along the lowbench southwest of the fort, crossing the Rock Springs road andstriking, further on, diagonally, the Rawlins trail, where Crabb and hisfellows had found it and followed. 

But all this took hours of time, and meanwhile, only half revived, Nanette had been gently, pityingly borne away to a sorrowing woman'shome, for at last it was found, through the thick and lustrous hair, that she, too, had been struck a harsh and cruel blow; that one reason, probably, why she had been able to oppose no stouter resistance to soslender a girl as Esther Dade was that she was already half dazedthrough the stroke of some blunt, heavy weapon, wielded probably by himshe was risking all to save. 

Meantime the major had been pursuing his investigations. Schmidt, thesoldier sentry in front of Moreau's door, a simple-hearted Teuton ofirreproachable character, tearfully protested against his incarceration. He had obeyed his orders to the letter. The major himself had broughtthe lady to the hospital and showed her in. The door that had been open, permitting the sentry constant sight of his prisoner, had been closed bythe commanding officer himself. Therefore, it was not for him, a privatesoldier, to presume to reopen it. The major said to the lady he wouldreturn for her soon after ten, and the lady smilingly (Schmidt did notsay how smilingly, --how bewitchingly smilingly, but the major needed noreminder) thanked him, and said, by that time she would be ready. In afew minutes she came out, saying, (doubtless with the same bewitchingsmile) she would have to run over home for something, and she was gonenearly half an hour, and all that time the door was open, the prisoneron the bed in his blankets, the lamp brightly burning. It was neartattoo when she returned, with some things under her cloak, and she wasbreathing quick and seemed hurried and shut the door after thanking him, and he saw no more of her for fifteen minutes, when the door opened andout she came, the same cloak around her, yet she looked different, somehow, and must have tiptoed, for he didn't hear her heels as he hadbefore. She didn't seem quite so tall, either, and that was all, for henever knew anything more about it till the steward came running to tellof the escape. 

So Schmidt could throw but little light upon the situation, save toFlint himself, who did not then see fit to say to anyone that at no timewas it covenanted that Miss Flower should be allowed to go and comeunattended. In doing so she had deluded someone beside the sentry. 

It was late in the night when Number Six regained his senses and couldtell _his_ tale, which was even more damaging. Quite early in theevening, so he said, --as early as nine o'clock, --he was under thehospital corner, listening to the music further up along the bluff. Alady came from the south of the building as though she were going downto Sudstown. Mrs. Foster had gone down not long before, and Hogan, witha lantern, and two officers' ladies. But this one came all alone andspoke to him pleasant-like and said she was so sorry he couldn't be atthe dance. She'd been seeing the sick and wounded in hospital, she said, and was going to bring some wine and jellies. If he didn't mind, she'dtake the path around the quartermaster's storehouse outside, as she wasgoing to Mr. Hay's, and didn't care to go through by the guard-house. SoSix let her go, as he "had no orders agin it" (even though it dawnedupon him that this must be the young lady that had been carried off bythe Sioux). That made him think a bit, he said, and when she came backwith a basket nicely covered with a white napkin, she made him take abig chicken sandwich. "Sure I didn't know how to refuse the lady, untilshe poured me out a big tumbler of wine--wine, she said, she was takingin to Sergeant Briggs and Corporal Turner that was shot at the Elk, andshe couldn't bear to see me all alone out there in the cold. " But Sixsaid he dasn't take the wine. He got six months "blind" once for asimilar solecism, and, mindful of the major's warning (this wasdiplomatic) Six swore he had sworn off, and had to refuse the repeatedrequests of the lady. He suspicioned her, he said, because she was sopersistent. Then she laughed and said good-night and went on to thehospital. What became of the wine she had poured out? (This from thegrim and hitherto silent doctor, seated by the bedside. ) She must havetossed it out or drunk it herself, perhaps, Six didn't know. Certainlyno trace of it could be found in the snow. Then nothing happened for asmuch as twenty minutes or so, and he was over toward the south end ofhis post, but facing toward the hospital when she came again down thesteps, and this time handed him some cake and told him he was a goodsoldier not to drink even wine, and asked him what were the lights awayacross the Platte, and he couldn't see any, and was following herpointing finger and staring, and then all of a sudden he saw a millionlights, dancing, and stars and bombs and that was all he knew till theybegan talking to him here in hospital. Something had hit him frombehind, but he couldn't tell what. 

Flint's nerve was failing him, for here was confirmation of thegeneral's theory, but there was worse to come and more of it. 

Miss McGrath, domestic at the trader's, had told a tale that had reachedthe ears of Mistress McGann, and 'twas the latter that bade the majorsummon the girl and demand of her what it was she had seen and heardconcerning "Crappo" and the lady occupant of the second floor front atthe trader's home. Then it was that the major heard what others hadearlier conjectured--that there had been clandestine meetings, whisperedconferences and the like, within the first week of the lovely niece'scoming to Fort Frayne. That notes had been fetched and carried by"Crappo" as well as Pete; that Miss Flower was either a somnambulist ora good imitation of one, as on two occasions the maid had "peeked" andseen her down-stairs at the back door in the dead hours of the night, orthe very early morning. That was when she first came. Then, since therecapture, Miss McGrath felt confident that though never again detecteddown stairs, Miss Flower had been out at night, as Miss McGrath believedher to have been the night, when was it? "when little Kennedy had hisscrap wid the Sioux the boys do be all talkin' about"--the night, infact, that Stabber's band slipped away from the Platte, Ray's troopfollowing at dawn. Questioned as to how it was possible for Miss Flowerto get out without coming down stairs, Miss McGrath said she wasn't goodat monkeyshines herself, but "wimmen that could ride sthraddle-wise"were capable of climbs more difficult than that which the vine trellisafforded from the porch floor to the porch roof. Miss McGrath hadn'tbeen spying, of course, because her room was at the back of the house, beyond the kitchen, but how did the little heel tracks get on theveranda roof?--the road dust on the matting under the window? the vinetwigs in that "quare" made skirt never worn by day? That Miss Flowercould and did ride "asthraddle" and ride admirably when found with theSioux at Bear Cliff, everybody at Frayne well knew by this time. Thatshe had so ridden at Fort Frayne was known to no officer or lady of thegarrison then present, but believed by Miss McGrath because of certaininexpressibles of the same material with the "quare" made skirt; bothfound, dusty and somewhat bedraggled, the morning Captain Blake washaving his chase after the Indians, and Miss Flower was so "wild excitedlike. " All this and more did Miss McGrath reveal before being permittedto return to the sanctity of her chamber, and Flint felt the groundsinking beneath his feet. It might even be alleged of him now that hehad connived at the escape of this most dangerous and desperatecharacter, this Indian leader, of whom example, prompt and sharp, wouldcertainly have been made, unless the general and the ends of justicewere defeated. But what stung the major most of all was that he had beenfairly victimized, hoodwinked, cajoled, wheedled, flattered into thiswretched predicament, all through the wiles and graces of a woman. Noone knew it, whatever might be suspected, but Nanette had bewitched himquite as much as missives from the East had persuaded and misled. 

And so it was with hardened and resentful heart that the major soughther on the morrow. The general and the commands afield would soon becoming home. Such Indians as they had not "rounded up" and captured werescattered far and wide. The campaign was over. Now for the dispositionof the prisoners. It was to tell Mrs. Hayand Nanette, especiallyNanette, why the sentries were re-established about their home and that, though he would not place the trader's niece within a garrison cell, heshould hold her prisoner beneath the trader's roof to await the actionof superior authority on the grievous charges lodged at her door. Shewas able to be up, said Miss McGrath, --not only up but down--down in thebreakfast room, looking blither and more like herself than she had beensince she was brought home. 

"Say that Major Flint desires to see her and Mrs. Hay, " said Flint, withmajesty of mien, as, followed by two of his officers, he was shown intothe trader's parlor. 

And presently they came--Mrs. Hay pale and sorrowing; Miss Flower, pale, perhaps, but triumphantly defiant. The one sat and covered her face withher hands as she listened to the major's few words, cold, stern andaccusing. The other looked squarely at him, with fearless, glitteringeyes:--

"You may order what you like so far as I'm concerned, " was the utterlyreckless answer of the girl. "I don't care what you do now that I knowhe is safe--free--and that you will never lay hands on him again. "

"That's where you are in error, Miss Flower, " was the major's calm, cold-blooded, yet rejoiceful reply. It was for this, indeed, that he hadcome. "Ralph Moreau was run down by my men soon after midnight, and he'snow behind the bars. "

CHAPTER XXIII

A SOLDIER ENTANGLED

December and bitter cold. The river frozen stiff. The prairie sheeted inunbroken snow. Great log fires roaring in every open fireplace. Greatthrongs of soldiery about the red hot barrack stoves, for all thecolumns were again in winter columns, and Flint's two companies had "gotthe route" for home. They were to march on the morrow, escorting as faras Laramie the intractables of Stabber's band, some few of the Indiansto go in irons, among them Ralph Moreau, or Eagle Wing, now a notoriouscharacter. 

The general was there at Frayne, with old "Black Bill, " erstwhile chiefinspector of the department, once a subaltern in days long gone by whenLaramie was "Ultima Thule" of the plains forts. The general had heardFlint's halting explanation of his laxity in Moreau's case, sayingalmost as little in reply as his old friend Grant when "interviewed" bythose of whom he disapproved. "Black Bill" it was who waxed explosivewhen once he opened on the major, and showed that amazed New Englandersomething of the contents of Moreau's Indian kit, including the nowfamous hunting pouch, all found with Stabber's village. A preciousscoundrel, as it turned out, was this same Moreau, with more sins toanswer for than many a convicted jail bird, and with not one followerleft to do him reverence except, perhaps, that lonely girl, selfsecluded at the Hays. Hay himself, though weak, was beginning to sit up. Dade, Blake and Ray were all once more housed in garrison. Truscott andBillings, with their hardy troopers, had taken temporary station at thepost, until the general had decided upon the disposition of the array ofsurrendered Indians, nearly three hundred in number, now confined understrong guard in the quartermaster's corral at the flats, with six "headdevils, " including Eagle Wing, in the garrison prison. 

All the officers, with two exceptions, were again for duty at Frayne. Webb, laid by the heels at Beecher, his feet severely frozen, andBeverly Field, who, recalled from a brief and solemn visit to a farsouthern home, had reached the post at nightfall of the 10th. There hadhardly been allowed him time to uplift a single prayer, to receive aword of consolation from the lips of friends and kindred who loved thehonored father, borne to his last resting place. "Come as soon aspossible, " read the message wired him by Ray, and, though the campaignwas over, it was evident that something was amiss, and, with all hissorrow fresh upon him, the lad, sore in body and soul, had hastened toobey. 

And it was Ray who received and welcomed him and took him straightway tohis own cosy quarters, that Mrs. Ray, and then the Blakes, might addtheir sympathetic and cordial greeting, --ere it came to telling why itwas that these, his friends despite that trouble that could not betalked of, were now so earnest in their sympathy, --before telling himthat his good name had become involved, that there were allegationsconcerning him which the chief had ordered "pigeon-holed" until heshould come to face them. A pity it is that Bill Hay could not have beenthere, too, but his fever had left him far too weak to leave his room. Only Ray and Blake were present and it was an interview not soon, ifever, to be forgotten. 

"I'm no hand at breaking things gently, Field, " said Ray, when finallythe three were closeted together in the captain's den. "It used to worryWebb that you were seen so often riding with Miss--Miss Flower up toStabber's village, and, in the light of what has since happened, youwill admit that he had reasons. Hear me through, " he continued, asField, sitting bolt upright in the easy chair, essayed to speak. "Neither Captain Blake nor I believe one word to your dishonor in thematter, but it looks as though you had been made a tool of, and you areby no means the first man. It was to see this fellow, Moreau--EagleWing--whom you recognized at the Elk, --she was there so frequently--wasit not?"

Into Field's pale face there had come a look of infinite distress. For amoment he hesitated, and little beads began to start out on hisforehead. 

"Captain Ray, " he finally said, "they tell me--I heard it from thedriver on the way up from Rock Springs--that Miss Flower is virtually aprisoner, that she had been in league with the Sioux, and yet, until Ican see her--can secure my release from a promise, I have to answer youas I answered you before--I cannot say. "

Blake started impatiently and heaved up from his lounging chair, hislong legs taking him in three strides to the frost-covered window at thefront. Ray sadly shook his dark, curly head. 

"You _are_ to see her, Field. The general--bless him for atrump!--wouldn't listen to a word against you in your absence; but thatgirl has involved everybody--you, her aunt, who has been devotion itselfto her, her uncle, who was almost her slave. She deliberately betrayedhim into the hands of the Sioux. In fact this red robber and villain, Moreau, is the only creature she hasn't tried to 'work, ' and heabandoned her after she had lied, sneaked and stolen for him. "

"Captain Ray!" The cry came from pallid lips, and the young soldierstarted to his feet, appalled at such accusation. 

"Every word of it is true, " said Ray. "She joined him after his wounds. She shared his escape from the village at our approach. She was with himwhen Blake nabbed them at Bear Cliff. She was going with him from here. What manner of girl was that, Field, for you to be mixed up with?"

"He is her half brother!" protested Field, with kindling eyes. "She toldme--everything--told me of their childhood together, and--"

"Told you a pack of infernal lies!" burst in Blake, no longer able tocontain himself. "Made you a cat's paw; led you even to taking her bynight to see him when she learned the band were to jump for themountains--used you, by God, as he used _her_, and, like the Indian sheis, she'd turn and stab you now, if you stood in her way or his. Why, Field, that brute's her lover, and she's his--"

"It's a lie! You shall not say it, sir!" cried Field, beside himselfwith wrath and amaze, as he stood quivering from head to foot, stillweak from wounds, fever and distress of mind. But Ray sprang to hisside. "Hush, Blake! Hush, Field! Don't speak. What is it, Hogan?" Andsharply he turned him to the door, never dreaming what had caused theinterruption. 

"The general, sir, to see the captain!"

And there, in the hallway, throwing off his heavy overcoat and"arctics, " there, with that ever faithful aide in close attendance, wasthe chief they loved; dropped in, all unsuspecting, just to saygood-bye. "I knocked twice, " began Hogan, but Ray brushed him aside, for, catching sight of the captain's face, the general was already atthe door. Another moment and he had discovered Field, and with bothhands extended, all kindliness and sympathy, he stepped at once acrossthe room to greet him. 

"I was so very sorry to hear the news, " said he. "I knew your fatherwell in the old days. How's your wound? What brought you back so soon?"

And then there was one instant of awkward silence and then--Ray spoke. 

"That was my doing, general. I believed it best that he should be hereto meet you and--every allegation at his expense. Mr. Field, I feelsure, does not begin to know them yet, especially as to the money. "

"It was all recovered, " said the general. "It was found almostintact--so was much of that that they took from Hay. Even if it hadn'tbeen, Hay assumed all responsibility for the loss. "

With new bewilderment in his face, the young officer, still white andtrembling, was gazing, half stupefied, from one to the other. 

"What money?" he demanded. "I never heard--"

"Wait, " said the general, with significant glance at Ray, who was aboutto speak. "I am to see them--Mrs. Hay and her niece--at nine o'clock. Itis near that now. Webb cannot be with us, but I shall want you, Blake. Say nothing until then. Sit down, Mr. Field, and tell me about that leg. Can you walk from here to Hay's, I wonder?"

Then the ladies, Mrs. Ray and her charming next door neighbor, appeared, and the general adjourned the conference forthwith, and went with themto the parlor. 

"Say nothing more, " Ray found time to whisper. "You'll understand it allin twenty minutes. "

And at nine o'clock the little party was on its way through the sharpand wintry night, the general and Captain Blake, side by side, ahead, the aide-de-camp and Mr. Field close following. Dr. Waller, who had beensent for, met them near the office. The sentries at the guard-housewere being changed as the five tramped by along the snapping andprotesting board walk, and a sturdy little chap, in fur cap andgauntlets, and huge buffalo overcoat, caught sight of them and, facingoutward, slapped his carbine down to the carry--the night signal ofsoldier recognition of superior rank as practised at the time. 

"Tables are turned with a vengeance, " said the general, with his quietsmile. "That's little Kennedy, isn't it? I seem to see him everywherewhen we're campaigning. Moreau was going to eat his heart out next timethey met, I believe. "

"So he said, " grinned Blake, "before Winsor's bullet fetched him. Pityit hadn't killed instead of crippling him. "

"He's a bad lot, " sighed the general. "Wing won't fly away from Kennedy, I fancy. "

"Not if there's a shot left in his belt, " said Blake. "And Ray isofficer-of-the-day. There'll be no napping on guard this night. "

At the barred aperture that served for window on the southward front, adark face peered forth in malignant hate as the speakers strode by. Butit shrank back, when the sentry once more tossed his carbine to theshoulder, and briskly trudged beneath the bars. Six Indians shared thatprison room, four of their number destined to exile in the distantEast, --to years, perhaps, within the casemates of a seaboard fort--thelast place on earth for a son of the warlike Sioux. 

"They know their fate, I understand, " said Blake, as the general movedon again. 

"Oh, yes. Their agent and others have been here with Indian Bureauorders, permitting them to see and talk with the prisoners. Theirshackles are to be riveted on to-night. Nearly time now, isn't it?"

"At tattoo, sir. The whole guard forms then, and the four are to bemoved into the main room for the purpose. I am glad this is the last ofit. "

"Yes, we'll start them with Flint at dawn in the morning. He'll be morethan glad to get away, too. He hasn't been over lucky here, either. "

A strange domestic--(the McGrath having been given warning and removedto Sudsville) showed them into the trader's roomy parlor, the largestand most pretentious at the post. Hay had lavished money on his home andloved it and the woman who had so adorned it. She came in almostinstantly to greet them, looking piteously into the kindly, bearded faceof the general, and civilly, yet absently, welcoming the others. She didnot seem to realize that Field, who stood in silence by the side ofCaptain Blake, had been away. She had no thought, apparently, for anyonebut the chief himself, --he who held the destinies of her dear ones inthe hollow of his hand. His first question was for Fawn Eyes, the littleOgalalla maiden whose history he seemed to know. "She is well and tryingto be content with me, " was the reply. "She has been helping poorNanette. She does not seem to understand or realize what is coming tohim. Have they--ironed him--yet?"

[Illustration: "HUSH! SHE'S COMING"--SHE WAS THERE. ]

"I believe not, " said the general. "But it has to be done to-night. Theystart so early in the morning. "

"And you won't let her see him, general. No good can come from it. Shedeclares she will go to him in the morning, if you prohibit itto-night, " and the richly jewelled hands of the unhappy woman wereclasped almost in supplication. 

"By morning he will be beyond her reach. The escort starts at six. "

"And--these gentlemen here--" She looked nervously, appealingly abouther. "Must they--all know?"

"These and the inspector general. He will be here in a moment. But, indeed, Mrs. Hay, it _is_ all known, practically, " said the general, with sympathy and sorrow in his tone. 

"Not all--not all, general! Even I don't know all--She herself has saidso. Hush! She's coming. "

She was there! They had listened for swish of skirts or fall of slenderfeet upon the stairway, but there had not been a sound. They saw thereason as she halted at the entrance, lifting with one little hand thecostly Navajo blanket that hung as a portière. In harmony with theglossy folds of richly dyed wool, she was habited in Indian garb fromhead to foot. In two black, lustrous braids, twisted with feather andquill and ribbon, her wealth of hair hung over her shoulders down thefront of her slender form. A robe of dark blue stuff, rich with broideryof colored bead and bright-hued plumage, hung, close clinging, and herfeet were shod in soft moccasins, also deftly worked with bead andquill. But it was her face that chained the gaze of all, and that drewfrom the pallid lips of Lieutenant Field a gasp of mingled consternationand amaze. Without a vestige of color; with black circles under herglittering eyes; with lines of suffering around the rigid mouth and withthat strange pinched look about the nostrils that tells of anguish, bodily and mental, Nanette stood at the doorway, looking straight at thechief. She had no eyes for lesser lights. All her thought, apparently, was for him, --for him whose power it was, in spite of vehementopposition, to deal as he saw fit with the prisoner in his hands. Appealon part of Friends Societies, Peace and Indian Associations had failed. The President had referred the matter in its entirety to the generalcommanding in the field, and the general had decided. One moment shestudied his face, then came slowly forward. No hand extended. No sign ofsalutation, --greeting, --much less of homage. Ignoring all otherspresent, she addressed herself solely to him. 

"Is it true you have ordered him in irons and to Fort Rochambeau?" shedemanded. 

"It is. "

"Simply because he took part with his people when your soldiers made waron them?" she asked, her pale lips quivering. 

"You well know how much else there was, " answered the general, simply. "And I have told you he deserves no pity--of yours. "

"Oh, you say he came back here a spy!" she broke forth, impetuously. "It is not so! He never came near the post, --nearer than Stabber'svillage, and there he had a right to be. You say 'twas he who led themto the warpath, --that he planned the robbery here and took the money. Henever knew they were going, till they were gone. He never stole a penny. That money was loaned him honestly--and for a purpose--and with the hopeand expectation of rich profit thereby. "

"By you, do you mean?" asked the general, calmly, as before. 

"By me? No! What money had I? He asked it and it was given him--byLieutenant Field. "

A gasp that was almost a cry following instantly on this insolentassertion--a sound of stir and start among the officers at whom she hadnot as yet so much as glanced, now caused the girl to turn one swift, contemptuous look their way, and in that momentary flash her eyesencountered those of the man she had thus accused. Field stood like oneturned suddenly to stone, gazing at her with wild, incredulous eyes. Oneinstant she seemed to sway, as though the sight had staggered her, butthe rally was as instantaneous. Before the general could interpose aword, she plunged on again:--

"He, at least, had a heart and conscience. He knew how wrongfully Moreauhad been accused, --that money was actually needed to establish hisclaim. It would all have been repaid if your soldiers had not forcedthis wicked war, and--" and now in her vehemence her eyes were flashing, her hand uplifted, when, all on a sudden, the portière was raised thesecond time, and there at the doorway stood the former inspectorgeneral, "Black Bill. " At sight of him the mad flow of words met suddenstop. Down, slowly down, came the clinched, uplifted hand. Her eyes, glaring as were Field's a moment agone, were fixed in awful fascinationon the grizzled face. Then actually she recoiled as the veteran officerstepped quietly forward into the room. 

"And what?" said he, with placid interest. "I haven't heard you rave inmany a moon, Nanette. You are your mother over again--without yourmother's excuse for fury. "

But a wondrous silence had fallen on the group. The girl had turnedrigid. For an instant not a move was made, and, in the hush of all butthrobbing hearts, the sound of the trumpets pealing forth the last notesof tattoo came softly through the outer night. 

Then sudden, close at hand, yet muffled by double door and windows, cameother sounds--sounds of rush and scurry, --excited voices, --cries ofhalt! halt!--the ring of a carbine, --a yell of warning--another shot, and Blake and the aide-de-camp sprang through the hallway to the stormdoor without. Mrs. Hay, shuddering with dread, ran to the door of herhusband's chamber beyond the dining room. She was gone but a moment. When she returned the little Ogalalla maid, trembling and wild-eyed, hadcome running down from aloft. The general had followed into the lightedhallway, --they were all crowding there by this time, --and the voice ofCaptain Ray, with just a tremor of excitement about it, was heard atthe storm door on the porch, in explanation to the chief. 

"Moreau, sir! Broke guard and stabbed Kennedy. The second shot droppedhim. He wants Fawn Eyes, his sister. "

A scream of agony rang through the hall, shrill and piercing. Then thewild cry followed:

"You shall not hold me! Let me go to him, I say--I am his wife!"

CHAPTER XXIV

THE DEATH SONG OF THE SIOUX

That was a gruesome night at Frayne. Just at tattoo the door leading tothe little cell room had been thrown open, and the sergeant of the guardbade the prisoners come forth, --all warriors of the Ogalalla band andforemost of their number was Eagle Wing, the battle leader. Recapturedby Crabb and his men after a desperate flight and fight for liberty, hehad apparently been planning ever since a second essay even moredesperate. In sullen silence he had passed his days, showing no sign ofrecognition of any face among his guards until the morning Kennedyappeared--all malice forgotten now that his would-be slayer was ahelpless prisoner, and therefore did the Irishman greet him jovially. "That man would knife you if he had half a chance, " said the sergeant. "Watch out for him!"

"You bet I'll watch out, " said Kennedy, never dreaming that, despite allsearch and vigilance, Moreau had managed to obtain and hide a knife. 

In silence they had shuffled forth into the corridor. The heavy portalswung behind them, confining the other two. Another door opened into theguardroom proper, where stood the big, red hot stove and where waitedtwo blacksmiths with the irons. Once in the guard room every window wasbarred, and members of the guard, three deep, blocked in eager curiositythe doorway leading to the outer air. In the corridor on one side stoodthree infantry soldiers, with fixed bayonets. On the other, facing them, three others of the guard. Between them shuffled the Sioux, "Wing"leading. One glance at the waiting blacksmiths was enough. With thespring of a tiger, he hurled himself, head foremost and bending low, straight at the open doorway, and split his way through the astonishedguards like center rush at foot ball, scattering them right and left;then darted round the corner of the guard-house, agile as a cat. 

And there was Kennedy confronting him! One furious lunge he made withgleaming knife, then shot like an arrow, straight for the southwardbluff. It was bad judgment. He trusted to speed, to dim starlight, tobad aim, perhaps; but the little Irishman dropped on one knee and thefirst bullet tore through the muscles of a stalwart arm; the second, better aimed, pierced the vitals. Then they were on him, men by thedozen, in another instant, as he staggered and fell there, impotent andwrithing. 

They bore him to the cell again, --the hospital was too far, --and Wallerand his aides came speedily to do all that surgery could accomplish, buthe cursed them back. He raved at Ray, who entered, leading poor, sobbinglittle Fawn Eyes, and demanded to be left alone with her. Waller wentout to minister to Kennedy, bleeding fast, and the others looked to Rayfor orders when the door was once more opened and Blake entered withNanette. 

"By the general's order, " said he, in brief explanation, and in aninstant she was on her knees beside the dying Sioux. There and thus theyleft them. Waller said there was nothing to be done. The junior surgeon, Tracy, --he whom she had so fascinated only those few weeks before, --bentand whispered: "Call me if you need. I shall remain within hearing. " Butthere came no call. At taps the door was once more softly opened andTracy peered within. Fawn Eyes, rocking to and fro, was sobbing in anabandonment of grief. Nanette, face downward, lay prone upon a stilledand lifeless heart. 

Flint and his escort duly went their way, and spread their story as theycamped at Laramie and "the Chug. " The general tarried another week atFrayne. There was still very much to keep him there; so, not until heand "Black Bill" came down did we at other stations learn the facts. Thegeneral, as usual, had little to say. The colonel talked for both. 

A woful time, it seems, they had had with poor Nanette when at last itbecame necessary to take her away from her dead brave. She raged andraved at even her pleading aunt. Defiant of them all, from the generaldown, and reckless of law or fact, she vowed it was all a conspiracy tomurder Moreau in cold blood. They gave him the knife, she declared, although it later developed that she had tossed it through the openwindow. They had given him the chance to escape--the sight of Kennedy, "who had striven to kill him twice before, " and then of the blacksmiths, with their degrading shackles--all just to tempt him to make a dash forfreedom;--just as they had lured and murdered Crazy Horse--Crazy Horse, his brave kinsman--not ten years before, --then had placed a dead shot onthe path to life and liberty--a man who killed him in cold blood, asdeliberately planned. These were her accusations, and that story tookstrong hold in certain circles in the far East, where "love of truth"inspired its widespread publication, but not its contradiction when thefacts became known. The same conditions obtain to-day in dealing withaffairs across the sea. 

Nanette said many other things before her final breakdown; and Hay andhis sorrowing wife found their load of care far heaviest, for the strainof Indian blood, now known to all, had steeled the soul of the girlagainst the people at Fort Frayne, men and women both--against none sovehemently as those who would have shown her sympathy--none somalignantly as those who had suffered for her sake. 

This was especially true of Field. In the mad hope of "getting justice, "as she termed it, for the dead, she had demanded speech of the general, and, in presence of "Black Bill" and the surgeon, he had given her ahearing. It proved fatal to her cause, for in her fury at what shetermed "the triumph of his foes, " she lost all sense of right or reason, and declared that it was Field who had warned Stabber's band and sentthem fleeing to unite with Lame Wolf, --Field who took the trader'shorses and rode by night with Kennedy to warn them it was Webb'sintention to surround the village at dawn and make prisoners of the men. It was Field, she said, who furnished the money Moreau needed toestablish his claim to a gold mine in the Black Hills, the ownership ofwhich would make them rich and repay Field a dozen times over. It wasField who sought to protect her kindred among the Sioux in hopes, shesaid it boldly, of winning her. But the general had heard enough. Thedoor was opened and Ray and Blake were ushered in. The former brieflytold of the finding of her note in Field's room the night the adjutantwas so mysteriously missing. The note itself was held forth by theinspector general and she was asked if she cared to have it opened andread aloud. Her answer was that Field was a coward, a dastard to betraya woman who had trusted him. 

"Oh, he didn't, " said Blake, drily. "'Twas just the other way. Hecouldn't be induced to open his head, so his friends took a hand. Yougot word of the outbreak through your Indian followers. You wrote toField and sent the note by Pete, bidding him join you at that godlesshour, telling him that you would provide the horses and that you mustride to Stabber's camp to see Moreau for the last time, as he was goingat once to the Black Hills. You made Field believe he was your halfbrother, instead of what he was. You brought Moreau back to the post andtook something, I can't say what, down to him from Mr. Hay's, --hewaiting for you on the flats below the trader's corral. You should haveworn your moccasins, as well as a divided skirt, that night instead ofFrench-heeled _bottines_. The rest--others can tell. "

The others were Kennedy and the recaptured, half recalcitrant Pete; thelatter turned state's evidence. Kennedy told how he had wandered downinto the flats after "the few dhrinks" that made him think scornful ofSioux; of his encounter with Eagle Wing, his rescue by Field and a girlwho spoke Sioux like a native. He thought it was little Fawn Eyes whenhe heard her speak, and until he heard this lady; then he understood. Hehad been pledged to secrecy by the lieutenant, and never meant to tell asoul, but when he heard the lie the lady told about the lieutenant, itended any promise. 

Then Pete, an abject, whining wretch, was ushered in, and his story, when dragged out by the roots, was worst of all. Poor Mrs. Hay! She hadto hear it, for they sent for her; somebody had to restrain Nanette. Pete said he had known Nanette long time, ever since baby. So hadCrapaud. Yes, and they had known Eagle Wing, Moreau, always--knew hisfather and mother. Knew Nanette's father and mother. But Black Billinterposed. No need to go into these particulars, as substantiating Mrs. Hay and himself, said he. "The lady knows perfectly well that I know allabout her girlhood, " so Pete returned to modern history. Eagle Wing, itseems, came riding often in from Stabber's camp to see Nanette by night, and "he was in heap trouble, always heap trouble, always want money, "and one night she told Pete he must come with her, must never tell ofit. She had money, she said, her own, in the trader's safe, but the doorwas too heavy, she couldn't open it, even though she had the key. Shehad opened the store by the back door, then came to him to help her withthe rest. He pulled the safe door open, he said, and then she hunted andfound two big letters, and took them to the house, and next night sheopened the store again, and he pulled open the safe, and she put backthe letters and sent him to Mr. Field's back door with note, and thenover to saddle Harney and Dan, and "bring 'em out back way from stable. "Then later she told him Captain Blake had Eagle Wing's buckskin pouchand letters, and they must get them or somebody would hang Eagle Wing, and she kept them going, "all time going, " meeting messengers from theSioux camps, or carrying letters. She fixed everything for the Sioux tocome and capture Hay and the wagon;--fixed everything, even to nearlymurdering the sentry on Number Six. Pete and Spotted Horse, a youngbrave of Stabber's band, had compassed that attempted rescue. She wouldhave had them kill the sentry, if need be, and the reason they didn'tget Wing away was that she couldn't wait until the sentries had calledoff. They might even then have succeeded, only her pony broke away, andshe clung to Eagle Wing's until he--he had to hit her to make her letgo. 

The wild girl, in a fury declared it false from end to end. The poorwoman, weeping by her side, bowed her head and declared it doubtlesstrue. 

Her story, --Mrs. Hay's, --was saddest of all. Her own father died whenshe was very, very young. He was a French Canadian trader and travellerwho had left them fairly well to do. Next to her Indian mother, Mrs. Hayhad loved no soul on earth as she had her pretty baby sister. The girlsgrew up together. The younger, petted and spoiled, fell in love with ahandsome, reckless young French half breed, Jean La Fleur; against allwarnings, became his wife, and was soon bullied, beaten and deserted. She lived but a little while, leaving to her more prosperous andlevel-headed sister, now wedded to Mr. Hay, their baby daughter, alsonamed Nanette, and by her the worthy couple had done their very best. Perhaps it would have been wiser had they sent the child away from allassociation with the Sioux, but she had lived eight years on the Laramiein daily contact with them, sharing the Indian sports and games, lovingtheir free life, and rebelling furiously when finally taken East. "She"was the real reason why her aunt spent so many months of each succeedingyear away from her husband and the frontier. One of the girl's playmateswas a magnificent young savage, a son of Crow Killer, the famous chief. The father was killed the day of Crazy Horse's fierce assault on thestarving force of General Crook at Slim Buttes in '76, and good, kindmissionary people speedily saw promise in the lad, put him at school andstrove to educate him. The rest they knew. Sometimes at eastern schools, sometimes with Buffalo Bill, but generally out of money and intomischief, Eagle Wing went from one year to another, and Nanette, foolishly permitted to meet him again in the East, had becomeinfatuated. All that art and education, wealth, travel and luxurycombined could do, was done to wean her from her passionate adoration ofthis superb young savage. There is no fiercer, more intense, devotionthan that the Sioux girl gives the warrior who wins her love. Shebecomes his abject slave. She will labor, lie, steal, sin, suffer, die, _gladly_ die for him, if only she believes herself loved in turn, andthis did Nanette more than believe, and believing, slaved and studiedbetween his irregular appearances that she might wheedle more money fromher aunt to lavish on her brave. When discovered meeting him in secretand by night, she was locked in her third story room and thought secure, until the day revealed her gone by way of the lightning rod. They had toresort to more stringent measures, but time and again she met him, undetected until too late, and when at last her education was declaredcomplete, she had amazed her aunt by expressing willingness to go toFrayne, when the good woman thought the objectionable kinsman abroadwith Buffalo Bill. Until too late, Mrs. Hay knew nothing of his havingbeen discharged and of his preceding them to the West. Then Nanettebegged her for more money, because he was in dreadful trouble;--hadstabbed a police officer at Omaha, whose people, so Moreau said, agreednot to prosecute him if one thousand dollars could be paid at once. Hay's patience had been exhausted. He had firmly refused to contributeanother cent to settle Moreau's scrapes, even though he was a distantkinsman of his wife, and they both were fond of his little sister FawnEyes. It had never occurred to Mrs. Hay that Nan could steal from orplot against her benefactors, but that was before she dreamed thatNanette had become the Indian's wife. After that, anything might happen. "If she could do _that_ for love of Moreau, " said she, "there wasnothing she could not do. "

And it would seem there was little short of deliberate murder she hadnot done for her Sioux lover, who had rewarded her utter self-sacrificeby a savage blow with a revolver butt. "Poor Nanette!" sobbed Mrs. Hay, and "Poor Nanette!" said all Fort Frayne, their distrust of her buriedand forgotten as she lay, refusing herself to everyone; starving herselfin dull, desperate misery in her lonely room. Even grim old "BlackBill, " whom she had recognized at once, --Bill, who had been the first toconfirm Blake's suspicions as to her identity, --had pity and compassionfor her. "It's the way of the blood, " said Blake. "She is

 "'Bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. '"

"She could do no different, " said the general, "having fixed her love onhim. It's the strain of the Sioux. _We_ call her conduct criminal:--theycall it sublime. "

And one night, while decision in Nanette's case was still pending, and, still self-secluded, she hid within the trader's home, refusing speechwith anyone but little Fawn Eyes, a sleighing party set out from Fraynefor a spin by moonlight along the frozen Platte. Wagon bodies had beenset on runners, and piled with hay. The young people from officers' row, with the proper allowance of matrons and elders, were stowed therein, and tucked in robes and furs, Esther Dade among them, gentle andresponsive as ever, yet still very silent. Field, in his deep mourning, went nowhere. He seemed humiliated beyond words by his connection withthis most painful affair. Even the general failed to cheer and reassurehim. He blamed himself for everything and shrank even from his friends. They saw the dim glow of the student lamp in his quarters, as theyjingled cheerily away. They were coming homeward, toward ten o'clock. The moon was shining brilliantly along the bold heights of the southernbank, and, insensibly, chat and laughter gradually ceased as they cameagain in sight of the twinkling lights of Frayne, and glanced aloft at anew-made scaffolding, standing black against the sky at the crest ofFetterman Bluff. "Eagle Wing roosts high, " said a thoughtless youngster. "The general let them have their way to the last. What's that?" headded, with sudden stop. 

The sleigh had as suddenly been reined in. The driver, an Irish trooper, crossed himself, for, on the hush of the breathless winter night, thererose and fell--shrill, quavering, now high, now low, in mournful minor, a weird, desolate, despairing chant, the voice of a heart-broken woman, and one and all they knew at once it was Nanette, after the manner ofher mother's people, alone on the lofty height, alone in the wintrywilderness, sobbing out her grief song to the sleeping winds, mourningto the last her lost, her passionately loved brave. 

Then, all on a sudden, it ceased. A black form started from under thescaffolding to the edge of the bluff. Then again, weird, wild, uncanny, a barbaric, almost savage strain burst from the lips of the girl. "Mother of Heavin!" cried the driver. "Can no one shtop that awful keen. It's her death song she's singin'!"

Two young officers sprang from the sleigh, but at the instant anothercry arose. Another form, this one of horse and rider, appeared at thecrest, silhouetted with the girl's against the stars. They saw the riderleap from saddle, almost within arms' length of the singer; saw herquickly turn, as though, for the first time, aware of an intruder. Thenthe wailing song went out in sudden scream of mingled wrath, hatred anddespair, and, like the Sioux that she was at heart, the girl made onemad rush to reach the point of bluff where was a sheer descent of overeighty feet. A shriek of dread went up from the crowded sleigh; a cry ofrejoicing, as the intruder sprang and clasped her, preventing herreaching the precipice. But almost instantly followed a moan of anguish, for slipping at the crest, together, firmly linked, they came rolling, sliding, shooting down the steep incline of the frozen bluff, andbrought up with stunning force among the ice blocks, logs and driftwoodat the base. 

They bore them swiftly homeward, --Field senseless and sorelyshaken, --Nanette's fierce spirit slowly drifting away from the bruisedand broken tenement held there, so pityingly, in the arms of EstherDade. Before the Christmas fires were lighted in the snowbound, frontierfort, they had laid all that was mortal of the brave, deluded girl inthe little cemetery of Fort Frayne, her solemn story closed, on earth, forever. 

L'ENVOI

Nearly two years later, with the old regiment still serving along thestoried Platte, they were talking of her one moonlit evening at theflagstaff. The band, by this time a fixture at Frayne, had been playingdelightfully, and some of the girls and young gallants had been waltzingon the Rays' veranda. A few new faces were there. Two faces, well known, were missing, --those of Esther Dade and Beverly Field. The latter hadnever been the same man since the tragic events that followed so closelyon the heels of the Lame Wolf campaign. Wounds had slowly healed. Injuries, physical, were well nigh forgotten; but, mentally, he had beenlong a sufferer. For months after the death of Nanette, even whensufficiently restored to be on duty, he held shrinkingly aloof from postsociety. Even Webb, Blake and Ray were powerless to pull him out of hisdespond. He seemed to feel, --indeed he said so, that his briefentanglement with that strange, fascinating girl had clouded his soldiername for all time. To these stanch friends and advisers he frankly toldthe whole story, and they, in turn, had told it to the general, to thecolonel commanding the regiment and to those whose opinions they mostvalued; but Field could speak of it to none others. Frankly he admittedthat from the moment he met the girl he fell under the influence of apowerful fascination. Within twenty-four hours of his return from theLaramie trip they were riding together, and during that ride she askedto be taken to Stabber's village, and there had talked long with thatmagnificent young Sioux. Later, Field surprised her in tears, and thenshe told him a pitiful tale. Eagle Wing had been educated, she said, byher aunt and uncle, --was indeed their nephew and her own cousin. He hadbeen wild and had given them much trouble, and her aunt was in bitterdistress over his waywardness. It was to plead with him that she, Nanette, had gone. "Moreau" had been taught mining and mineralogy, itseems, and declared that he had "located" a most promising mine in theBlack Hills. He could buy off every claim if he had a thousand dollars, and the mine might be worth millions. Hay pooh-poohed the story. Mrs. Hay could not persuade him. Then "Moreau" became threatening. He wouldjoin the hostiles, he swore, if his aunt would not help him. Indeed, andhere Field's young face burned with shame, Nanette told him that sheunderstood that he, Field, was an only son who might inherit wealth indays to come, and could draw upon his father now for any reasonable sum;and, within the week of his meeting her, he was on the point of offeringeverything she needed, but that he disbelieved the Indian's story. Then, one night, there came a note begging him to meet her at once. She had adreadful message, she said, from "Moreau. " The fellow had frequentlybeen prowling about the trader's during the dark hours, and now she wasafraid of him, yet must see him, and see him at once, even if she had toride to Stabber's camp. Field's eyes were blinded and he went. Hay'shorses were ready beyond the corral, and she rode astride on one ofHay's own saddles. They found "Moreau" awaiting them at the ford, andthere was a scene Field could not understand, for they spoke in theSioux language. That night it was that, all in tears at the Indian'sobduracy, she owned that he was her own brother, not merely a cousin, and together they had all gone back toward Frayne. "Moreau" was to waiton the flats until she could return to the house. She had been strivingto get him to make certain promises, she said, contingent on her givinghim something from her own means. Field said he remonstrated with her tothe utmost, but she told him no woman with Sioux blood in her veins everdeserted a brother--or lover. And so she had returned with a packet, presumably of money, and there they found the Indian clinched withKennedy. Kennedy was rescued in the nick of time, and pledged tosilence. The Indian rode away triumphant. Nanette climbed back to herwindow, exhausted, apparently, by her exertions, and Field started forhis quarters, only to find the entire garrison astir. The rest theyknew. 

Asked how she came to know of the money in the trader's safe, he said nosecret had been made of it by either Hay or him. She had asked himlaughingly about his quarrel with Wilkins, and seemed deeply interestedin all the details of subaltern life. Either Hay or he, fortunately, could have made good the missing sum, even had most of it not been foundamongst Stabber's plunder. Field had never seen her again until thenight the general took him to confront her at the Hays', and, all toolate, had realized how completely she had lured and used him. In pride, honor, self-respect, he had been sorely wounded, and, even when assuredthat the general attached no blame to him, and that his name was nolonger involved, he would have resigned his commission and quit theservice had it not been for these soldiers three, Webb, Blake and Ray. They made him see that, all the more because his father's death had lefthim independent--sole master of quite a valuable property--he must stickto the sword and live down the possible stain. 

And stay he did, refusing even a chance to go abroad the followingspring, and devoting himself assiduously to his duties, although heshrank from society. They made him sometimes spend a quiet evening atRay's or Blake's, where twice Miss Dade was found. But that young ladywas quick to see that her hostess had been scheming, as loving womenwill. And then, when he went hoping to see her, yet half afraid, shecame no more. They could not coax her. The early spring had taken himforth on long campaign. The ensuing fall had taken her to the fardistant East, for gallant old Dade was breaking down. The doctors senthim on prolonged sick leave. Then was Fort Frayne indeed a desolate postto Beverly Field, and when midwinter came, and with it the news thatDade had but little while to live, he took counsel with Ray, and amonth's leave, not much of which was spent in the South. The oldregiment was represented at the sad and solemn little ceremony when thedevoted husband, father and fellow soldier was laid at rest. 

Nor was Field a happier man when he rejoined from leave, and they allthought they knew why. Letters came, black-bordered, with Esther'ssuperscription, sometimes, but only for Mrs. Blake or Mrs. Ray. Therewas never one for Field. And so a second summer came and went and asecond September was ushered in, and in the flood of the full moonlightthere was again music and dancing at Fort Frayne, but not for Field, notfor Esther Dade. They were all talking of Nanette, Daughter of theDakotas, and Esther, Daughter of the Regiment, as they called her in herfather's Corps, and the mail came late from Laramie, and letters werehanded round as tattoo sounded, and Mrs. Blake, eagerly scanning ablack-bordered page, was seen suddenly to run in doors, her eyesbrimming over with tears. 

Later that night Hogan tapped at Field's front door and asked would thelieutenant step over to Mrs. Ray's a minute, and he went. 

"Read that, " said Mrs. Ray, pointing to a paragraph on the third page ofthe black-bordered missive that had been too much for Mrs. Blake. And heread:

 "Through it all Esther has been my sweetest comfort, but now I must lose her, too. Our means are so straitened that she has _made_ me see the necessity. Hard as it is, I must yield to her for the help that it may bring. She has been studying a year and is to join the staff of trained nurses at St. Luke's the first of October. "

For a moment there was silence in the little army parlor. Field's handswere trembling, his face was filled with trouble. She knew he wouldspeak his heart to her at last, and speak he did:--

"All these months that she has been studying I've been begging andpleading, Mrs. Ray. _You_ know what I went for last winter, --all to nopurpose. I'm going again now, if I have to stay a patient at St. Luke'sto coax her out of it. "

But not until Christmas came the welcome "wire:"

 Patient discharged. Nurse finally accepts new engagement. 

FINIS