“These men should be held to the civil authorities for trial in this county, and not set free,” Macdonald protested, indignant over the order.
Major King ignored him. He was still looking at Chadron, who was almost choking on his rage.
“Hell! Do you mean to tell me the whole damn thing’s goin’ to fizzle out this way, King? I want 259 something done, I tell you—I want something done! I didn’t bring you up here—”
“Certainly not, sir!” snapped King.
“My orders to you—” Chadron flared.
“It happens that I am not marching under your orders at—”
“The hell you ain’t!” Chadron exploded.
“It’s an outrage on humanity to turn those scoundrels loose, Major King!” Neel said. “Why, I’ve got signed statements, I tell you—”
“Remove this man to the rear!” Major King addressed a lieutenant, who communicated the order to the next lowest in rank immediately at hand, who passed it on to two troopers, who came forward briskly and rode the protesting correspondent off between them.
Other troopers were collecting the arms of the homesteaders, a proceeding which Macdonald witnessed with a sick heart. Frances, sitting her horse in silence through all that had passed, gave him what comfort and hope she could express with her eyes.