GENERAL ASHLEY DROPS OUT
(Jim Bridger Resumes the Tale)
I tell you, we were glad to have that smoke of ours answered, and to see Major Henry and Kit Carson and Jed Smith coming, in the twilight, with the Ranger and the beaver man. We guessed that the three boys must be our three partners—and when they waved with the Elk Patrol sign we knew; but of course we didn't know who the two strangers were.
While they were approaching, Major Henry wigwagged: "All there?" with his cap; and Fitzpatrick wigwagged back: "Sure!" They arrived opposite us, and then headed by the man with the rifle, who was leading the horse, they obliqued up along the gulch as if they knew of a crossing; so we decided that one of the strangers must be acquainted with the country. They made a fine sight, against the horizon.
Pretty soon into the gulch they plunged, and after a few minutes out they scrambled, man and horse first, on our side, and came back toward us. And in a minute more we Elk Scouts were dancing and hugging each other, and calling each other by our regular ordinary names, "Fat" and "Sliver" and "Red" and all, and discipline didn't cut much figure. That was a joyful reunion. The Ranger and his prisoner, the beaver man, looked on.
Then when Major Henry hauled out the message packet, and saluting and grinning passed it to the general, our cup was full. I was as glad as if I had passed it, myself. "One for all, and all for one," is the way we Scouts work.
"If you hadn't trailed him (the beaver man) and headed him and fixed him so he couldn't travel fast, he'd have got away from the fire and wouldn't have run into us," claimed Major Henry.
"And if you fellows hadn't held that fire line you wouldn't have seen him and we might have been burnt or suffocated in the willows," I claimed back.
So what seems a failure or a bother, when you're trying your best, often is the most important thing of all, or helps make the chain complete.
But now we didn't take much time to explain to each other or to swap yarns; for the twilight was gone and the dark was closing in, and we weren't in the best of shape. The burro Apache was packed with bedding, mostly, which was a good thing, of course; the Red Fox Scouts had their outfit; but we Elks were short on grub. That piece of bacon and just the little other stuff carried by the Major Henry party were our provisions. Fitz and the poor general were making a hungry camp, when we had discovered them. And then there was the general, laid up.
"What's the matter with you, kid?" queried the Ranger.
"Sprained ankle, I think."
"That's sure bad," sympathized the Ranger.
And it sure was.
"Boys, I'll have to be traveling for that cabin of mine, to report about the fire and this man," said the Ranger, after listening to our talk for a minute. "If you're grub-shy, some of you had better come along and I'll send back enough to help you out."
That was mighty nice of him. And the general spoke up, weakly. "How far is the cabin, please?"
"About three miles, straight across."
"If I could make it, could I stay there a little while?"
"Stay a year, if you want to. We'll pack you over, if you'll go. Can you ride?"
"All right," said the general. "I'll do it. Now, you fellows, listen. Major Henry, I turn the command and the message over to you. I'm no good; I can't travel and we've spent a lot of time already, and I'd be only a drag. So I'll drop out and go over to that cabin, and you other Scouts take the message."
Oh, we didn't want to do that! Leave the general? Never!
"No, sir, we'll take you along if we have to carry you on our backs," we said; and we started in, all to talk at once. But he made us quit.
"Say, do I have to sit here all night while you chew the rag?" grumbled the beaver man. But we didn't pay attention to him.
"It doesn't matter about me, whether I go or not, as long as we get that message through," answered the general, to us. "I can't travel, and I'd only hold you back and delay things. I'll quit, and the rest of you hustle and make up for lost time."
"I'll stay with you. This is Scout custom: two by two," spoke up little Jed Smith. He was the general's mate.
"Nobody stays with me. You all go right on under Corporal Henry."
"It'll be plumb dark before we get to that cabin," grumbled the beaver man. "This ain't any way to treat a fellow who's been stuck and then burnt. I'm tired o' sittin' on this hoss with my toes out."
"Well, you can get off and let this other man ride. I'll hobble you and he can lead you," said the Ranger.
"What's the matter with the burro?" growled the beaver man. He wasn't so anxious to walk, after all.
Sure! We knew that the Ranger was waiting, so while some of us led up Apache, others bandaged the general's ankle tighter, to make it ride easier and not hurt so much if it dangled. Then we lifted the general, Scout fashion, on our hands, and set him on Apache.
Now something else happened. Red Fox Scout Ward stepped forward and took the lead rope.
"I'm going," he announced quietly. "I'm feeling fine and you other fellows are tired. Somebody must bring the burro back, and the general may need a hand."
"No, I won't," corrected the general.
"But the burro must come back."
"It's up to us Elk Scouts to do that," protested Major Henry. "Some of us will go. You stay. It's dark."
"No, sir. You Elk men have been traveling on short rations and Van Sant and I have been fed up. It's either Van or I, and I'll go." And he did. He was bound to. But it was a long extra tramp.
We shook hands with the general, and gave him the Scouts' cheer; and a cheer for the Ranger.
"Ain't we ever goin' to move on?" grumbled the beaver man.
"I may stay all night and be back early in the morning," called Ward.
"Of course."
They trailed away, in the dimness—the Ranger ahead leading the beaver man, Red Fox Scout Ward leading Apache. And we were sorry to see them go. We should miss the plucky Ashley, our captain.