The orderly opened the door and went out, and Lieutenant Parker took the chair toward which the colonel waved his hand. While they were waiting for the guide the officer proceeded to give his subordinate some instructions in regard to the way he was to conduct himself in case the Sioux molested him. Of course he could not expect, with the few men that the colonel was going to give him, to stand against the whole body of the Sioux, but he could run, holding a tight rein in the meantime, until he came to a clear spot free from gullies and underbrush, and there he could dismount his command and make the best fight possible. If he wasn’t back at the fort in a week a company would be sent out to look for him; but suppose he was found dead and scalped? Lieutenant Parker thought of this, but his ardor did not abate in the least. He had come out on the plains to take just such risks as this, and he supposed that it was the orders every young officer received when he was about to encounter the Indians for the first time. But he did not believe that the Sioux were going to get after him. They had enough to do with the Ghost Dance to prevent them paying attention to anything else.
“But I hope they will keep clear of you until you come back,” said the colonel. “The first thing you do, go to work and fill up one of those wagons with game and send it to the fort with six men, commanded by the corporal. He knows the way and won’t get lost. After that, you stay with the other six men until you fill up the other wagon, and then come home yourself.”
Just then another step was heard in the hall, and the door opened to admit Carl, the Trailer. Parker told himself that he was glad that Carl was going with him as guide, for he would have opportunity to talk to him, and perhaps he might find out where he got that curious name.
Carl was young in years—he did not look to be a day older than Lieutenant Parker—and the years of toil and hardship he had seen on the plains, if indeed he had seen any of them, did not mar his face as they had that of older scouts. He was as straight as an arrow, bore a frank and honest face, and his blue eyes, as he turned them from one to another of the occupants of the room, did not express the least surprise that he had been called upon to go on a dangerous mission. He supposed that the colonel wished to send him to Standing Rock Agency with dispatches, and he was ready to take them. It was something that he had frequently been called upon to do, and he had always returned in safety. He did not look like a plainsman, for he was dressed in a suit of moleskin, as fine a pair of boots as money could buy, and a sombrero, which he removed as he entered the room.
“Here I am, colonel,” said he cheerily, “and all ready to go on to Fort Yates, if necessary. What do you want of me?”
“Are you acquainted with Lieutenant Parker?” asked the colonel in reply.
“I have seen him, but I don’t know him,” answered the guide.
“Well, here he is. Lieutenant, this is Carl, the Trailer, the name by which you will probably know him, but his name is Preston.”
The lieutenant got up from his chair and extended his hand to the guide, but was not very well pleased with the reception he met. Carl took his hand, gave it a little squeeze and dropped it, and then turned his face toward the colonel and waited for him to go on and explain what he wanted done. There were two things about it, Lieutenant Parker told himself: Carl was not favorably impressed with his appearance; and, furthermore, he could not have been raised in that country all his life, for he used as fine language as he did himself.
“Carl, I want you to guide twelve men to the foothills and get some fresh meat for us,” continued the colonel.