“Well, there you are. Go on, and be back as soon as possible.”
The lieutenant took the envelope, put it into his pocket, made a salute, and went out. He shook hands with Sergeant Leeds, mounted his horse, and rode out of the parade-ground.
CHAPTER X.
The Squawman’s Proposition.
Carl, the Trailer, was sadly depressed when he saw Lieutenant Parker ride his horse into Grand River—not so much on his own account, but he was thinking of the dispatches which the latter carried in his pocket. Although he spoke encouragingly to him, he did not expect that the young officer would find his way through to the fort alone. The chances were that the horse would fail to follow his own trail, and perhaps take his rider a hundred miles out of his way. But these thoughts had barely passed through his mind when he was recalled to himself by the actions of the squawman. The latter took possession of the revolver which Carl carried in his hip pocket, and then seized him by the arm and pulled him to the ground.
“Don’t be so rough, if you please,” said Carl indignantly. “I could have got down without any of your help.”
“I suppose you could, but you see I wanted to help you down,” replied the squawman with a grin. “You have stayed in this country just to see how this fight was coming out between your people and the Sioux, and you have stayed a little too long.”
“Do you think there is going to be a fight?” said Carl. He listened for the squawman’s reply, and he believed every word he said. Of course he was going to seek a chance to escape before long, and he wanted to take back with him some news for the colonel.
“A fight? Well, I should say so,” said the squawman angrily. “Before it is over you and all the rest of the white people will be food for the wolves.”
“You believe in the Ghost Dance, then? Don’t pull me so hard; I can keep up with you.”