And in less than an hour after his disappearance there came new excitement, and the men set up a cheer. Sharp firing was heard toward the south. What could it mean but that their comrades of the —th were fighting their way back to join them? Then four or five horsemen appeared along the southward slopes, darting and dashing about as only Indians ride, evidently firing at something between them and the Ska, and Truman ordered a platoon to mount and drive away the Indians on that front so as to open a road for the new-comers to enter. This was accomplished with little loss, for the Indians broke from before the spirited dash, but rallied, of course, far out on the flanks, and again poured in their rapid fire from their repeating rifles, and then after a while the troops could be seen slowly retiring, firing as they fell back, some afoot now, and some leading and supporting in saddle others who were evidently wounded, and finally, as these latter came within a few hundred yards of the rifle-pits, the cry went up that it was Lieutenant Sanders and some of the —th, and so it proved. Four more wounded to care for, and Sanders, faint and heart-sick, among them.
"I tried to get old Chrome to drop that herd and come back to you," he moaned, "but it was useless. He wouldn't have let me come—only to get him something to eat. Damn this having to fight Indians under office soldiers anyhow!" And with this pithy protest on his blue lips the little bantam fainted away.
Then Chrome wasn't coming. Truman looked grave and Cranston angry. "No matter. We can lick them endwise by staying just where we are," he said. "Relief is bound to come to-night."
Later that afternoon, under the shadows of the willows, there gathered a little group, perhaps a score of officers and men, all who could be spared from their stations in the rifle-pits, listening to the solemn tones of one of their number reading the service for the burial of the dead. Never did Cranston take the field without Margaret's stowing in the corner of his saddlebag a little prayer-book of her church, and this the captain had handed silently to Davies. Side by side the forms of the two sergeants and their comrade troopers were laid in the sandy pit. Reverently the bearded, war-worn men uncovered and stood with drooping heads while their grave young officer read the solemn words. Here and there along the big circle of their surrounding foe the faint distant crack of the rifle punctuated the sentences as they fell from soldier lips, and every moment a bullet whistled overhead. Somewhere down the valley, borne on the wings of the breeze, the wail of Indian women mourning their braves slain in the earlier battle echoed and almost overwhelmed the solitary voice that rose in soldier tribute to the soldier dead. Then with one brief, fervent prayer, the solemnly murmured "Amen," carving no line, raising no stone, but tamping deep and heavy the earth upon their blanket-shrouded forms, without the trooper volleys, with only the faint soft winding of the trooper's last earthly trumpet-call singing "lights out" to sadly listening ears, the little group dispersed, each man going to his post.
An hour later still and the bluffs were throwing long shadows across the valley, and the crack of Indian rifles and occasional loud bark of the carbine close at hand seemed growing more frequent, and watchers at the outskirts became conscious of increasing excitement among the warriors up the valley to the west as well as over to the south, and listening men, laying their ears to earth, declared that there was tremor and vibration, and dull distant thunder of myriad hoofs, and over in the village there was hurrying to and fro and growing clamor of squaws and children, and dusky women could be seen clutching their little ones and speeding away towards the hills down-stream, while others began rapidly tearing down the painted lodges of hide or cloth, and such Indians as had no mount, but were skulking under the banks or among the bluffs across the stream, could be seen leaping and crouching and racing back toward the village, and presently there went up a shout from the lookouts towards the upper Ska: "Big dust-cloud coming. Must be the pony herd again!" And men began springing to their feet and scrambling out of their shelters, and staring around them and waving their hats and shouting congratulation and encouragement, and ducking suddenly as more bullets came whistling in, and from a low rumble the sound rose to distant thunder, and from that to nearer uproar, and Truman and Cranston made a rush for their own herds, ordering the men to side line and hopple instantly, for the surviving horses were excitedly sniffing the air, pawing and snorting, and then there hove in sight up the valley the wiry leaders of the herd, galloping wearily, behind them a dull, dust-hidden, laboring mass, the main body of the Indian prizes swept away at sunrise. But who and what were these darting along the flanks of the coming host, lashing furiously in and out, ever guiding, controlling, commanding even while hurrying on? No blue-shirted, slouch-hatted, broad-belted troopers these! No cheering comrades of the stalwart —th, but in their stead few, but far more skilful, the most accomplished herdsmen in all creation,—Indians by the dozen. And then at last, amid the yell and clamor and shot and shout and furious rush of riderless steeds, came explanation of the mysterious foray up the Spirit valley. Circling far to the west and south, riding like the wind when once well out of sight of watching foes, the Ogallallas had swung around between the Ska and Winthrop's distant column, threaded ravines and depressions well known to them from boyish days, and finally creeping behind the curtaining bluffs into full view of the great herd drowsily nibbling in the broad, sunny valley, had burst with maddening yell and waving blankets and banging rifles, with sudden fury from their covert, tearing by the weary pickets, stampeding their horses, and so had gone thundering down upon the startled herd and, skilfully encircling it from the south, reckless of rallying cry and rapid shot from Canker's men, had sent the whole pack, with many a cavalry charger too, whirling before them in wild triumph down the echoing valley, back to the waiting village whence they came. "Red Dog versus Chrome Yaller," wailed little Sanders from his bed of leaves. "Who wouldn't have bet on the bay?"
Vain the major's valiant effort to mount and follow. Forty at least of his horses were swept away in the rush, his own among them; vain long-range shots and Canker's vivid blasphemy. Black in the face with rage, he mounted such men as had managed to restrain their horses and went charging after, leaving Chrome to the care of his fellows. Vain the rapid and telling fire opened upon herd and herders by Truman's men as they came within range. Down went two or three yelling, painted warriors, down a dozen ponies here and there, but on went the leaders, plunging breast-deep into the stream, and, followed by the whole mass, forded the Wakon in a flood of foam and splash and spray, losing only a trivial few in the glorious effort, and then, sweeping well around the rifle-pits of the command, were welcomed with mad rejoicing and acclaim in the heart of the thronging village.
Instantly now did they send forward their own skirmish line,—scores of Indians crawling, snake-like, through the grass, and from all sides pouring rapid fire in on Cranston's front to keep him and his fellows from attempting to mount or attack, which, indeed, would have been a hopeless effort. The timber rang with the fierce volleying, and in the excitement and exposure that resulted four more of the little command were shot, Truman himself receiving a painful wound in the side. For half an hour there was yell and clamor and furious crash of firearms, but all this time the lodges were rapidly disappearing, the Indian households were piling their goods and chattels, their babies, the old and the wounded and the helpless, even their dead, on travois and drag of lodge-poles, and then, guided by old chiefs, whole families were flitting away down the Ska, and finally, as darkness lowered on the valley, and the last lodge was down and gone, and the last warriors drew away from their front, and silence and peace settled down upon the exhausted command, Cranston, laying his broad hand on Davies's shoulder, looked into his tired eyes with a world of soldier trust and admiration in his own, and said, "If there was such a thing with us as promoting a man on the battlefield, my lad, this day's work would win it for you."
And before the other could answer, far up the valley of the Wakon hailed a trumpet call. Over from the bluffs across the stream another answered, and man after man sprang from his blanket to give a welcome cheer. "We might have known those beggars would have been in no such hurry to get away," said Truman, faintly, "but for old Tintop's coming with the whole command."