Under Fire

by Charles King

CHAPTER XXVII.

Again was there scene of mad excitement among the Indian villages on the Chasing Water. Again was Red Dog in saddle, exhorting, declaiming, prophesying, but with no such ready result as during the winter days gone by. It was one thing to rally to the standard of a war chief and follow him on a raid against the agent of the Great Father when but a handful of soldiers could back the authorities. It was quite another to rise in revolt when five hundred war-trained blue-coats were aligned to defend him. Within two hours after the exciting scene at the corral the Indians in every band knew that McPhail had launched his ultimatum at the little village of White Wolf. "Send in Chaska, the assailant of my son, and Thunder Hawk, the boaster, or there is war between the Great Father and you and yours."

Already had Chaska and Chaska's mother, with three trusty friends, mounted on swift ponies, been spirited away northward, with instructions to ride all night through the devious trails of the Bad Lands, and never draw rein until they reached the shelter of the Uncapapa lodges beyond the Wakpa Schicha. Already had Red Dog dashed over to the lodge of Thunder Hawk, offering him asylum in the heart of his tribe, and pledging his uttermost brave to his defence. But the old Indian would none of him. Long years before, a fatherless boy, he had been reared and taught by a priest of the Church of Rome,—is there a people they do not know, a peril they do not dare?—and when finally his friend and teacher and protector was gathered to his fathers and laid in the old mission churchyard, the boy drifted back to his tribe, a mature and thoughtful man, to find his kindred among the tents of the Ogallallas,—among, worse luck, the malcontents of Red Cloud. From this time on he had cast his lot with them, marrying, rearing children, yet but slowly gaining influence among them. When his great and cruel chief lured the garrison of a mountain stockade into the neighboring hills and massacred every man, Hawk had refused to take part. His heart was not at war with the whites. When swarms of the warriors left to join the great renegade bands gathering under Crazy Horse and Gall to reinforce Sitting Bull, Hawk had held aloof. "The people of Red Cloud," said he, "have no grounds for war. The Great Father has done everything he promised them and more," and Red Cloud called him dastard and squaw; but when an Indian girl was missing from her lodge, and the gossips told how she had been lured by a white soldier to the distant banks of the Laramie, Hawk rode thither, rode into the presence of the post commander and told her story and his, and found and brought her back to her people. He strove to find the man for whose sake she had abandoned her father's lodge and forfeited her good name. Hawk well knew how futile was her trust that the white chief would ever claim her as his wife, but among so many comrades he was concealed, and Hawk left his message. Sooner or later his people should find the white man who had wrought the wrong and his days were numbered. Every knife in all his band was whetted for that particular scalp. And now again, when Indian blood had been fired by the insult to the son of White Wolf, he stepped forward to interpose between his people and the fury of the Great Father's man. He had repressed, not incited the wrath of his brothers, but the agent in authority ruled otherwise and demanded his surrender. His people would have fought to save him. He would suffer willingly rather than that one drop of blood should be spilt on his account. Refusing Red Dog's clamorous offer, Thunder Hawk mounted his pony and, despite the wails and lamentations of his village, rode forth in calm dignity to meet the coming soldiery, to offer in silent submission his hands to the clinch of the steel.

The recall had sounded at the cantonment, and mounted orderlies had galloped out to bring in such troops as might have trotted too far away for the sound. The infantry battalion, practising skirmish drill, had quickly rallied, re-formed, and was marched within the log walls to exchange blank for ball cartridge and await orders. The four cavalry troops galloped back to their stables and dismounted, while their officers gathered about the major commanding. Cranston to him had briefly recounted the story of the excitement as he had heard it from McPhail's lips. "I am bound to say, sir," said he, "that Mr. Davies did not seem to agree with the agent in either his statements or his conclusions. He considers the agent to have been the aggressor, and if he is required to go to arrest Hawk and White Wolf's boy, it will be with an unwilling hand."

"Yes," said the major, coldly, "the trouble with Davies seems to be that he has displayed similar unwillingness on previous occasions."

The command of the cantonment had been given to this veteran field officer of infantry, a man whose motto had been fight from boyhood on. For ten days had he been hammering away here, hours at a time, to get his own battalion in readiness for what he considered the inevitable summer's work. He had fought every one of the dozen or more tribes of plains Indians, and considered fighting their normal condition as it was his own. He had made it his boast that during the previous summer his battalion, day after day, had outmarched the cavalry, and even while the statement was misleading, the boast was based on facts. The horses of the cavalry, starved and staggering, worn to skin and bone, had to be towed along instead of ridden, and the cavalry were therefore handicapped. Yet there was not a trooper who did not honor the bluff senior major, and none who really disliked him, except perhaps the battalion commander of the cavalry, a gentleman whose gold leaves were as dazzlingly new as the senior's were old and withered, and just about to be changing into silver, the silver of the lieutenant-colonel. The contrast between Major White's spirited handling of his battalion of foot and Major Chrome's listless management of a similar body of horse was vivid in the last degree. The latter and two of his troops belonged to Atherton's fine regiment, the —th, the other two troops, Cranston's and Truman's, were, as we know, of the Eleventh, and here in presence of four officers of the latter's regiment, and a dozen of the Fortieth Foot and of the —th Horse,—here on the broad parade of the cantonment, at high noon and in plain sight and hearing even of three or four enlisted men, orderlies, horse-holders, etc., had the post commander spoken words that meant nothing short of discredit, if not disgrace, to the subaltern who was at that very instant riding away on a perilous as well as thankless mission. Deep, embarrassed silence fell on one and all of the major's hearers for a single instant. Cranston reddened with indignation, little Sanders with wrath. Truman looked quickly and curiously about him. All three were eager and ready to speak, yet by common consent the duty devolved upon Cranston, who took the floor.

"It would be idle, Major White, to feign ignorance of what you refer to, but let me say right here and now that you have been utterly misled as to that young officer's character, and I doubt if you properly estimate that of his detractors."

"I base my opinion on a cavalry report, Captain Cranston,—on Mr. Archer's vindication of Captain Devers."

"As one-sided a report as was ever written, sir, for the other side—Mr. Davies—had never a hearing,—never even heard of the investigation itself until a week ago, and is now bound to silence pending action at department head-quarters; but meantime, sir, as a friend of his, and a man who believes in him, I protest against any such impression as you have received, and I ask you how it is that you can believe such a story of an officer who, single-handed, arrested Red Dog in the face of his followers? There has been an insidious influence at work against him ever since last summer, and we of the Eleventh know just where to place it."

"If I've wronged him, Cranston, you know me well enough to know that I'll make every amend possible. I have heard, I own, much more than Archer's report, so have my brother officers, not only before the recent outbreak in which he seems to have outwrestled Red Dog, but since. Since his recent visit to Scott stories have come to our ears very much to his discredit."