CHAPTER XXVII. Off to the Front.

But Carl’s way was not clear yet. He had one hundred and twenty-five miles to go before he would be among friends, and not a mouthful to eat while he was travelling that distance. It was true that he had revolvers in his pockets, and that jack rabbits were plenty. He had matches, too, in his possession, so that he could cook the meat after he shot it, but the report of his revolver might start the Indians looking for him. The boy thought of this as he sped on his way, and by the time daylight arrived he stood upon the banks of Grand River, which separated him from the trail that led to Fort Scott. Before he took to the willows he looked cautiously around, but there were no Indians to be seen.

“Those Indians who were going to the Bad Lands to fight the whites must have gone by the upper trail,” said Carl, as he took off his Page 330 blanket and drew his revolvers, which he took in one hand and held above his head. “If that is the case I am all right. Lie there,” he added, throwing the blanket into the willows. “I have carried you twenty-five miles, and you haven’t done me any good, either.”

Carl took another glance around to make sure that the way was clear, and entered the water. He did not know how deep the water was, but by swimming and wading alternately he managed to cross the river, and without any more reconnoitering he struck out straight for the fort. During all his lonely journey he did not see an Indian, or a white man, either, to whom he could give the news of Sitting Bull’s death—for it was the source of a great deal of satisfaction to him. The brains of the Sioux nation were gone, and where would they look to find another man to take his place? Every time he thought of it he felt like yelling; and one time he did raise his voice, but stopped all of a sudden, and glanced around to see if there was anybody within hearing.

The day passed away and night came on, Page 331 but the fort was every moment drawing nearer. He was tired and sleepy, but he could not think of stopping to rest until he conveyed the news to the commander of Fort Scott. He was certain that there had not been anybody along the trail, for he would have seen them; so he was going to be the first to carry the information. About twelve o’clock he became aware that he was at his journey’s end. He heard a challenge directly in front of him, and Carl came to a standstill. It seemed to him that the corporal was a long time in coming, but he heard the gate unfastened at last, and the non-commissioned officer came out.

“Who are you?” he asked, bending over and looking into Carl’s face.

“Well, I guess I have got a right here,” said the young scout. “Don’t you know me?”

“By gracious!” exclaimed the corporal. “Carl, the Trailer!”

“That is just what they call me when I am here among friends. I am tired and sleepy, but I want first to see the colonel. I have a report to make to him.”

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“Come in. Lieutenant Parker is officer of the guard, and I know he will be delighted to see you. He has been on nettles every time your name is mentioned.”

Lieutenant Parker was standing in front of his quarters waiting to see what the corporal was going to find outside the gate, and when he saw the two coming along the parade he came quickly toward them.

“I have got him, sir,” said the corporal.

If we were to say that the two boys were delighted to see each other we should fall far short of the truth. Carl held out his hand, but the lieutenant paid no attention to it. He rushed in, caught Carl around his arms, and whirled him with his feet clear of the ground, all unmindful of the presence of the corporal. Then he put him down and seized him by the hand.

“I tell you I can rest in peace now,” said Parker. “Carl, how do you do? How did you escape?”

“I’ve got a long story to tell you,” said Carl, “but first I must see the colonel. I ought to report to him the first thing I do.”

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“Come in here with me just a minute and then you can call on the colonel,” said the lieutenant, leading the way into his quarters. “I want to look at you.”

“Say,” said Carl in a lower tone, as the lieutenant closed the door behind him, “Sitting Bull is dead.”

Parker had picked up a chair to place it for Carl to sit down, but he stopped when these words fell upon his ear and put the chair down again.

“Yes, sir,” said Carl. “He resisted arrest and he was shot dead.”

“Why—why—who told you?” asked Parker.

“A courier came into the camp and reported it, and I jumped at the chance for escape.”

“Who killed him?”

“The Indian police. Now, do you think I ought to report that to the colonel or wait until morning?”

“Go at once and report it. So Sitting Bull is dead. Come back here after you see the colonel and tell me your story.”

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“I will, after I get something to eat and put some extra clothes on. I haven’t had these duds off for a week.”

“I will get you something to eat,” said the lieutenant. “I am anxious to hear what Sitting Bull did.”

The two boys went out, and Carl bent his steps toward the colonel’s room. The orderly, who sat at a table in the hall reading, was overjoyed to see Carl once more, and after listening to his report that he had something to say to the commander that ought not to be kept until to-morrow, went into where the colonel was lying.

“He will see you,” said he. “He won’t get up.”

The colonel was sitting up in bed, striving with both hands to make his few gray hairs cover his bald head, but he extended a palm to Carl and greeted him warmly.

“So General Miles took me at my word, did he?” he asked.

“General Miles?” repeated Carl. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Why, I sent him notice that you had Page 335 been captured by the Sioux band when they were not on the warpath, and requested him to demand your surrender.”

“This is the first I heard of it, sir,” said Carl, who wondered that the colonel thought so much of him as all that. “If he sent any word to the Sioux I don’t know it.”

The commander looked surprised but said nothing, and Carl went on with his report. He looked more surprised as he listened, asked a few questions to get at all Carl knew about the matter, and finally said:

“It serves him right. This Sioux war won’t amount to much.”

After a few moments’ conversation, during which Carl told him of the way he had escaped, he went out and found Lieutenant Parker waiting for him, who told him he would find everything he wanted to eat in the officers’ quarters, and that as soon as he had changed his clothes, and had taken the sharp edge off his appetite, he was expected to tell his story. Carl hurried away, and in half an hour more he was in Lieutenant Parker’s quarters, who was out somewhere, but when he came in a Page 336 few moments later he found Carl filling up for a smoke.

“I tell you, Parker, my pipe was the only friend I had while I was posting along that prairie in the direction of the fort,” said he, as he pulled a match from his pocket and struck a light. “It could not say anything to me, but I drew almost as much encouragement from it as I would from my horse, if I had had one.”

The young scout then seated himself and went on with his story, omitting no detail that he thought would be at all interesting to Lieutenant Parker. When he told of the Ghost Dance, he held his excited auditor spellbound.

“It was the queerest thing in the shape of a dance that I ever heard of,” said Carl. “There was literally nothing that was interesting about it. They go round and round until they get tired, and then they drop.”

“Did you see anybody in a trance?” asked Parker.

“No, I got tired of watching the thing and went to sleep. If any one was tormented in that way it was after dark.”

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Carl stayed up with the lieutenant all that night, and when morning came and they were relieved he went off to his quarters to find a little rest in sleep. But all the teamsters were up, and he had to go through with the same thing again. Of course he did not say anything about Sitting Bull’s death. He had made a report of that to the colonel, and he wisely decided that the information could come through him. Everywhere he was regarded as a hero, but no one could understand why Harding had suddenly become so lenient to him.

“I guess Harding has not got much stomach for a fight,” said one of the teamsters; “I don’t believe he thinks there is going to be one;” and this was the general verdict of all of them. But finally it came out, nobody knew how, that Sitting Bull was dead. Of course everybody was excited when they heard of it, but there were not a few who believed, with the colonel, “that this Sioux war won’t amount to much.” What was their surprise, however, when a white courier rode into the fort about ten o’clock that morning, on a horse Page 338 almost ready to drop with fatigue, and brought a letter from General Miles. Of course there were plenty of soldiers around who saw him go in, and they were wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement while waiting for some one to come out.

“I tell you, Carl, there is something up,” whispered Parker to the young scout. “That man never came here with all that haste for nothing. We are going to see something.”

“I hope you can go,” said Carl. “I won’t see any fun at all if you are left behind.”

“You will go, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. If the Indians are going to have a dressing down, I am going to have a hand in it.”

The two curbed their impatience as well as they could and watched the colonel’s door. In a few moments the orderly came out on a run and bent his steps toward the adjutant’s quarters; and in a second more out came that officer, bareheaded and with no coat on, and straightway went into the colonel’s room. This made the boys more inclined to believe that “there was something up,” and this became Page 339 realized when the adjutant came out and called for the trumpeter.

“Now we are going to hear it,” said Parker. “I hope they will call for Company D the first thing.”

The men at a distance took up the call for “the trumpeter,” sounding it out loud and clear, and presently the man appeared with his instrument in his hand. He exchanged a few words with the adjutant, then threw back his head and put his trumpet to his lips. He did not blow the call for any particular company, but he blew the general muster of the cavalry; whereupon Parker almost jumped from the ground.

“Whoopee! I am going,” said he, seizing Carl’s arm with a grip that astonished him. “You must go, too. Where’s your horse?”

This was something that Carl had not yet had time to attend to—getting a horse to replace the one that he had left in the hands of the Sioux. The very first man he came to was a teamster who had a couple of horses, and he raised no objections whatever to loaning Carl the best one in the lot.

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“It won’t take you long to decide which one is the best,” said he, as he led the way out of the gate, “’cause one is about as good as the other. They don’t look as though they had any get up about them, but you get on ’em and try ’em.”

“Will he run fast if the Indians get after him?” asked Carl, as he slipped a bridle on the horse while the teamster put a saddle on his back.

“Are you going out after the Indians?” inquired the man in surprise. “By George! you want to look out.”

“That is the reason I asked the question.”

“I have never seen this horse in a race, but I bet you he will get there. Look out that they don’t play the same trick on you that they played upon Custer.”

“I will look out for that. You come in on the parade-ground and hold him while I get my things.”

When Carl hurried through the gate he saw a long line of cavalry drawn up on the parade-ground, with their officers at the head, and the adjutant was just going into the colonel’s Page 341 door to tell him that the troops were all present or accounted for. They were all sitting stiffly in their saddles, waiting for the word to move. They were waiting to see, too, who was going to command them; but in a few seconds after the adjutant disappeared the colonel came to the door, and then this question was answered. He had his greatcoat on, a pair of heavy gauntlet gloves on his hands, and the point of a sabre dragged on the ground behind him.

“That’s all right,” said Carl, making haste into his room. “Now we will see how much the colonel knows about fighting Indians.”