Carl the Trailer

by Harry Castlemon

The wind continued to increase in fury—so much so that the notes of the bugle from the trumpeter who had warned them, and which he continued to blow at intervals, came but faintly to their ears. Lieutenant Parker was getting cold, but he did not say a word about it. His overcoat was left on the ground where the cavalry began its charge, and if the colonel did not have anything further for him to do he would be glad to put that overcoat on. When they arrived within sight of Colonel Forsyth’s headquarters they found that the men who had been recalled by the sound of the bugle were busy tearing down the tents and carrying them into the ravine out of reach of the blizzard, and the rest were working like beavers to take their dead and wounded comrades to the same place of refuge. The officers were working with the men, and if they said anything at all, it was to urge those who were laboring with them to hurry a little faster.

“You are just the man I wanted to see, Parker,” said his colonel, as he galloped up. “Hitch your horses there in the gully, and then you and Murphy get a stretcher and bring in every man who lost his life during that fight. Be in a hurry, now, for we don’t want to leave them out in this wind.”

“Carl, you go and get our overcoats and bring one for Murphy,” said Parker, as they rode away to obey this order. “We can’t work fast enough to keep warm in this wind.”

“The colonel wants us to bring in every man who lost his life during the fight,” said Carl. “He did not say anything about the Indians, did he?”

“Nary time, sir,” said Murphy, indignantly. “The Indians brought it all on themselves, and they can stay there and freeze to death for all the colonel cares.”

“Another thing,” said the lieutenant—“have you forgotten what that warrior did back there on the prairie? Some of the wounded may have a knife or a rifle, you know, and it would not be safe to go near them.”

In a few minutes all our three friends, with their heavy overcoats and gauntlet gloves on, were working hard to bring the bodies of their comrades to the ravine where they would be out of the way of the blizzard, and as fast as the men came in they were dispatched to help them. The lieutenant was astonished when he saw how the Indians had used their revolvers at the beginning of the fight. They had their pistols and knives hidden under their blankets. Every one of them went in armed, and that was the reason they did so much damage. Some of the Indians and soldiers were almost touching each other, having fired their guns when so close together that their garments were fairly burned with the powder, and of course it was not possible for one to miss so large a mark at that distance. The soldiers did not seem to care a cent for the presence of the officers who were on the spot to superintend their operation. If they took hold of a soldier to place him on a stretcher and an Indian was in the way, they kicked him roughly aside, as they would have done with any other rubbish. The officers noticed it but did not say anything; and as long as they ranked Parker, he did not feel called upon to say anything, either.

“If I had my way they would treat brave men with a little more respect than that,” said Parker, as they picked up a soldier who had been placed upon the stretcher and started for the ravine with him. “If those men had not been brave they would not have killed so many of our fellows.”

“Humph!” muttered Murphy. “They were fighting for their homes, you know, sir. Plague take all their homes. They have got a reservation, and why don’t they go there and stay upon it? If all the soldiers could have their way, there would not be one left on the prairie.”

Lieutenant Parker was beginning to feel as Carl, the Trailer, did while he was explaining the Ghost Dance to him. He felt that the Indians had been abused, and wished there was some way in which the matter could be arranged to everybody’s mutual satisfaction. But then it would have been of no use to argue the case with Murphy. Like all soldiers he had his own opinion, and he would keep on having it until all the Indians had been wiped out.