CHAPTER XVIII[ToC]
BATTLE AND VICTORY
And this was the story that went on the heels of the escort convoying the gun-traders in to the fort, and much did Major Berry relish the composition of that report. It had long been the claim of himself and his comrades that white men were encouraged to enter the reservation with arms and cartridges, and that it was easy for the Sioux to lure their police, or to mislead the sheriff, away from the point where these unprincipled smugglers crossed the line.
Now, infuriated at the cowardice and treachery of two of their number, Pearson, the leader, and Bent, the wagoner, had made a clean breast of the business. They had driven hard bargains, had laid in good stores of beaver, wolf, and deer skins, and no little cash. Then Little Crow came, quarrelled over an obvious cheat, called one partner a liar, was struck, abused, and thrown out. He galloped away and came back with Gamble, a man they dare not let live, once having learned their secret. Both Little Crow and he were treacherously shot by the partners as they were riding to warn George Sword and his police. Then came the swift vengeance of the Sioux, the flight of Hurley and Gross, leaving their unwary comrades to an awful fate. While one party of Indians made way with the wagon, in hopes of running it—horses, contents, and all—to the camp of Si Tanka, another party, the immediate relatives and friends of Little Crow, rode off with the two captives to the village where Little Crow lay dying, and finally, fearing interruption there, came back to the valley by night for the wildest, most delirious orgy known to Indian tradition—the slow doing to death of captured enemy by ingenious and horrible torture.
And this was the indescribable ceremony nipped in the bud by our young lieutenant and his twoscore men, to whose energy, courage, and skill Major Berry gave all credit, though Garrett claimed it "in the name of my troop."
All night had they faced a furious and clamorous band—chiefs, warriors, and women—shouting denunciation, demanding their prey, and threatening attack in tremendous force. But Geordie had posted his men for battle, hidden the recaptured under the bank, and dared the whole band to come on and get them, if they thought it advisable, which, it seems, they did not. With his patients on Indian travois ("borrowed," ponies and all, perhaps without ceremony, from the supply on the spot), Graham slowly retraced his steps the following morning, and was met half-way in by the squadron in force, the heartiest kind of a welcome, and news that thrilled through his veins like the sound of the charge.
"The —th and your own troop are camped south of the line, Mr. Graham. I have orders for you to go in to-morrow."