“No, I got tired of watching the thing and went to sleep. If any one was tormented in that way it was after dark.”
Carl stayed up with the lieutenant all that night, and when morning came and they were relieved he went off to his quarters to find a little rest in sleep. But all the teamsters were up, and he had to go through with the same thing again. Of course he did not say anything about Sitting Bull’s death. He had made a report of that to the colonel, and he wisely decided that the information could come through him. Everywhere he was regarded as a hero, but no one could understand why Harding had suddenly become so lenient to him.
“I guess Harding has not got much stomach for a fight,” said one of the teamsters; “I don’t believe he thinks there is going to be one;” and this was the general verdict of all of them. But finally it came out, nobody knew how, that Sitting Bull was dead. Of course everybody was excited when they heard of it, but there were not a few who believed, with the colonel, “that this Sioux war won’t amount to much.” What was their surprise, however, when a white courier rode into the fort about ten o’clock that morning, on a horse almost ready to drop with fatigue, and brought a letter from General Miles. Of course there were plenty of soldiers around who saw him go in, and they were wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement while waiting for some one to come out.
“I tell you, Carl, there is something up,” whispered Parker to the young scout. “That man never came here with all that haste for nothing. We are going to see something.”
“I hope you can go,” said Carl. “I won’t see any fun at all if you are left behind.”
“You will go, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. If the Indians are going to have a dressing down, I am going to have a hand in it.”
The two curbed their impatience as well as they could and watched the colonel’s door. In a few moments the orderly came out on a run and bent his steps toward the adjutant’s quarters; and in a second more out came that officer, bareheaded and with no coat on, and straightway went into the colonel’s room. This made the boys more inclined to believe that “there was something up,” and this became realized when the adjutant came out and called for the trumpeter.
“Now we are going to hear it,” said Parker. “I hope they will call for Company D the first thing.”
The men at a distance took up the call for “the trumpeter,” sounding it out loud and clear, and presently the man appeared with his instrument in his hand. He exchanged a few words with the adjutant, then threw back his head and put his trumpet to his lips. He did not blow the call for any particular company, but he blew the general muster of the cavalry; whereupon Parker almost jumped from the ground.