"But, sir, haven't you heard? The Sioux are out in force and all along the road, both above and below the Platte. There's a herder on the train who told us. He got aboard at Pine Bluffs this morning."
"I can hardly believe that," answered Cross. "Captain Forrest with the Grays is scouting south of Red Cloud. Captain Wallace was ordered to watch the fords along the Platte on this line; Captain Charlton is out—or at least the whole troop has been, and there are three more. Surely Major Edwards would know over at the barracks, if the Indians were anywhere between us and the river,—we'll get an escort from Captain Wallace the other side,—but he has not heard a word."
"But I beg the captain to hear what the man says, sir," urged Sergeant Waller. "He's been drinking, but he tells the same story, practically, that he told us when he got aboard. Let me find him, sir."
And find him he did, even more maudlin and thick-tongued by this time, and evidently determined to make the most of his dramatic story for the benefit of the two officers and swarm of interested lookers-on. He only succeeded in inspiring the colonel with mingled incredulity and disgust.
"I don't believe a word of it," he said to Captain Cross. "And we are losing valuable time. We must start at once."
An hour later this peaceful Sabbath morning, the sergeant stood, cap in hand, before Major Edwards on the veranda of his pleasant quarters. Two pretty children were playing with a big, shaggy, lazy staghound, pulling his ears and tormenting him in various ways; a pleasant-faced lady came forth, sunshade and prayer book in hand, and at sight of her the little ones reluctantly rose and bade good-by to their four-footed friend, and the party started slowly away across the green parade to the post chapel, nodding and smiling to the spruce orderly, who stood respectfully aside to let them pass. Mrs. Edwards glanced quickly and sympathetically into the sergeant's sad face as he stood there before her husband's easy-chair. She knew well what it all meant, but there was nothing for her to say. Small parties of infantry officers and of ladies and children joined them on the way to the humble wooden sanctuary; the soft notes of the bugle were sounding church call; a warm gentle breeze from the southern plains stirred the folds of the big flag; the sunshine was joyous and brilliant, and all spoke of peace, order, and contentment. Yet there stood Waller with almost bursting heart; and yonder, only a few miles across the grassy ridge to the north, rode that little party of officers and men to almost certain death.
The major looked up as he finished reading the letter placed in his hands.
"I have no words to tell you of my sympathy and sorrow, sergeant. Of course you know my plain duty in the matter. The sheriff has been notified, and two of his deputies already have gone out to search. He would hardly be mad enough to come anywhere near us, if guilty. But if he is taken he will be held here under my charge, and I will see that you have every proper opportunity of visiting him. The adjutant tells me you had heard something of the Indians being south of the Platte. What was it?"
"A man who boarded our train at the Bluffs, sir. He claimed to have had to ride hard for his life yesterday afternoon, and that there were scores of the Sioux this side of the river. I took him to Colonel Gaines and Captain Cross, sir; but the man had been drinking so much that they distrusted him entirely. They left the station before I started for the barracks, sir."
The major sat thoughtfully gazing out across the parade a moment; then answered: