RETURNING to the open sunshine he made the circuit of the house, and on the north side stopped and studied with an interest he had not felt before. A stout post was still standing on that side, and to the post a cavalry horse had been tethered within two days, and stood there long enough to paw and trample the gravel all around it. Charlton was cavalryman enough to read in every sign[114] that the steed had been most unwillingly detained. In evident impatience he had twisted twice and again around that stubborn bullet-scarred stump, and the troop commander could almost see him, pawing vigorously, tugging at his "halter-shank," and plunging about his hated but relentless jailer, and neighing loudly in hopes of calling back his departing friends. Charlton felt sure that, as the troop rode away, some one of the men had remained here some little time.
A hundred yards across the prairie was the "double file" trail of the detachment on its straight line for the ridge, and here, only a little distance out, were the hoof-prints of a troop horse both coming and going. Even more interested now, the captain went some distance out across the prairie, and still he found them. Leaving the hut and following to overtake the troop, the horse had instantly taken the gallop; the prints settled that. But what struck Captain Charlton as strange was that the other tracks, those which were made by the same horse in coming to the hut, were still to be found far out toward the northeast. It was evident, then, that the rider had not turned back from the command until it had marched some distance from the Niobrara; that he had not gone back to the bank where they had been in camp, as would have been the case had he lost or left something behind, but had come here to this abandoned hovel southeast of the trail. Now, what did that mean? One other thing the captain did not fail to note; that horse had cast a shoe.
Late as it was when he reached the camp on White River that night—after midnight, as it proved—Charlton found his young lieutenant up, and anxiously awaiting him. When the horses had all been cared for, and the two officers were alone near their tents, almost the first question asked by the captain was:
"Did you give any man permission to ride back after you left the Niobrara Friday morning?"
"No, sir," answered Blunt in some surprise. "No one asked, and every man was in his place when we made our first halt."
Immediately after reveille on Sunday morning, a good hour before the sun was high enough to peep over the tall white crags to the east of the little camp, the two officers were out at the line, superintending the grooming of the horses. Fifty men were now present for duty, and fifty active steeds were tethered there at the picket rope, nipping at each other's noses or nibbling at the rope itself, and pricking up their ears as the captain stopped to pat or to speak to one after another of his pets. Always particularly careful of his horses, Captain Charlton on this bright sunshiny morning was noting especially the condition of their feet. Every one of those two hundred hoofs were keenly scrutinized as he passed along the line. But there was nothing unusual in this—he never let a week go by without it.
"You seem to have had a number reshod within the last few hours, sergeant," he said to Graham, as he stopped at the end of the line.
"Yes, sir, I looked them all over yesterday morning. Every shoe is snug and ready now, in case we have to go out. Seven horses were reshod yesterday, and over twenty had the old shoes tacked on."
Grooming over, each trooper vaulted on to the bare back of his horse and rode in orderly column down to the running stream, and still Charlton stood there, silently watching his men and noting the condition of their steeds. Blunt was bustling about his duties, every now and then looking over at his soldierly captain. Something told him that the troop commander had made a discovery or two that had set him to thinking. He was even more silent than usual.
At seven o'clock, after a refreshing dip in a pool under the willows close at hand, the two officers were seated on their camp-stools and breakfasting at the lid of the mess chest. Over among the brown buildings of the post, half a mile away, the bugles were sounding mess call and the infantry people were waking up to the duties of the day. Down the valley, still farther to the east, the smoke was curling from the tiny fires among the Indian tepees, and scores of ponies were grazing out along the slopes, watched by little urchins in picturesque but dirty tatters. All was very still and peaceful. Even the hulking squaws and old men loafing about the Agency store-houses were silent, and patiently waiting for the coming of the clerk with his keys of office. One or two young braves rode by the camp, shrouded in their dark-blue blankets, and apparently careless of any change in the condition of affairs, yet never failing to note that there were fifty horses and soldiers ready for duty there in camp.