"The mine is as sound as a government bond, sir, and Shiner's holding down my job till I want it again; and Mr. Anthony told me to say that whenever the lieutenant got tired of soldiering to come back with Toomey and take his old trick with the shovel."
And so, joyous and laughing, the three friends of old rode down to the thronging camps in the valley, and to the stern duties that so soon awaited them.
For there came a day when men's faces went white with the news that Sitting Bull, the great chief (Tatanka-iyo-Tanka), had died in desperate fight with the police sent to arrest him; that Si Tanka and his band, nabbed by "Napa Yahmni," had most unaccountably managed later to elude him, and were now at large, raising the standard of revolt, summoning all the wild warriors far and near to join forces with him. And then, indeed, the frontier blazed with signal-fires by night and burning ranches by day, and there came a week of hard riding for the old regiment, and of sharp campaigning for all—a week in which at last the wily red chief Si Tanka was finally surrounded and, with all his people and ponies, herded on down through the Bad Lands to the breaks of Wounded Knee—fierce, truculent, defiant. For long months he had braved the "Great Father" himself, refusing to submit to any authority; but the sight of those long columns of silent, disciplined "horse soldiers," squadrons white and black, some of them riding along with wonderful little field-guns clinking beside them on wheels, overawed Si Tanka's followers and disheartened his friends.
There came a day when he had to submit, and agree to surrender, and go whither orders might send him, and with his fierce spirit crushed, he bowed his head and took to his lodge, and laid him down in his robes, sick, body and soul. And then the old regiment marched over to the mission to guard prisoners and property, and another was sent scouting after scattering little war parties, and Connell, who had again been serving with the general, got word to Geordie that orders had come putting an end to his "holiday," and calling him East to his legitimate duty. Could Geordie get over to see him, and the disarming of Big Foot's band, on the morrow?
Graham showed the missive to his captain, and Lane took it to the colonel. "Let Graham go," said the latter. "There's nothing to be done here."
And so it happened that once again the two chums were together, and this time on a momentous and perilous day.
They saw from the hill-side the scowling braves of Big Foot, led forth from camp and seated on the ground, shrouded in their blankets, in long, curving lines. They saw the designated troops of a rival regiment drawn up in silent array, facing the sullen warriors. They saw the women and children of the latter huddled at the edge of the Indian camp, while officers, sergeants, and soldiers were sent searching through the frowzy lodges for secreted arms. Through their glasses they saw the old medicine-man, in the centre of the Indian ranks, glancing furtively, savagely, right and left, his lips moving in muttered incantation, while the searchers among the lodges came forth from one after another, baffled, empty-handed, suspicious. Why had not some one suggested it would be wise to search, individually, each brave before conducting him to the line?
"There's going to be trouble, Con!" cried Graham, suddenly dropping his field-glass. "Look! There goes McCrea!" And surely enough, at that very instant, as though he, too, had noted the ominous signs, their elder comrade came galloping diagonally across the front, heading straight for the spot where stood the commander of the silent little battalion. "He's going to warn them," answered Connell. "Let's join him."
