INNOCENT OR GUILTY.
THE provost sergeant at Fort Robinson is a man who has seen and heard a great deal in the course of his army life, and who has the enviable faculty of knowing everything that is going on around him, without appearing to know anything at all. It had been his duty, a day or two previous, to expel from the limits of the reservation a rascally pack of gamblers—a species of two-legged prairie wolf[165] that in the rough old days on the frontier followed every movement of the Army paymasters, and lured and trapped the soldiers until every cent of their money was gone. In point of number the gamblers were strong enough to take care of themselves in case of Indian attack, yet rarely did they venture far from the protection of the nearest troops. Driven out of post and forbidden to return, they had simply camped with their whole "outfit" at the lower edge of the military reservation, where the laws of the State of Nebraska and not the orders of Uncle Sam took precedence. And here they "set up shop" again, and had a game going in full blast this very sunshiny Sunday[166] morning, and the provost sergeant knew all about it. He also knew by ten o'clock that Sergeant Dawson and Private Patsy Donovan of Charlton's troop, with some adventurous spirits from the garrison, were down there, "bucking their luck" against the tricks of these skilled practitioners; and it was not hard to predict what the result would be.
"Shall I take a file of the guard and fetch them back, sir?" he asked the colonel commanding, and that gentleman glanced inquiringly at his cavalry friend.
"How say you, captain?" Charlton reflected a moment and then replied:
"No, colonel. I should say let them have all the rope they choose to take. I can get them when they are needed. You are sure about their whereabouts on Tuesday and Wednesday nights?" he asked, turning to the sergeant.
"Perfectly, sir; and just what they lost and how much they owed the quartermaster's gang when they left."
"Just see where they are at noon then, and let me know," and the provost sergeant went his way, leaving the officers in consultation.
At noon the soldier telegrapher came hurrying to the colonel and handed him a dispatch.
"I feared as much," said the old soldier as he handed the paper to Captain Charlton. "This means work for you at once. Let us go to the office; there will be dispatches from Omaha presently. Isn't it strange that no one at Sidney should have heard of the Indians getting over the Platte?"