George at the Fort; Or, Life Among the Soldiers

by Harry Castlemon

Bob repeated the names of the would-be deserters which Bristow had given as nearly as he could recall them, and the sergeant hurried off to hunt up the officer of the day, while Bob went back into the quarters. He had been there but a few minutes when the orderly appeared at the door and sung out,

"Owens, the colonel wants to see you."

"Aha!" exclaimed Bristow, "our good little boy has been doing something bad at last.—There are no bunks in the guard-house, Owens."

Bob made no reply. He followed the orderly across the parade and into the colonel's head-quarters, where he found the officer of the day, the sergeant-major and all the ranking officers of the garrison. The colonel questioned him closely in regard to the plot he had discovered, and finally dismissed him and the sergeant without making any comments. Half an hour later the entire cavalry force of the garrison was drawn up in line, the names of forty men who were ordered to the front and centre were read off, and the rest of the troopers were sent back to their quarters. Then the bugle sounded "Boots and saddles!" and in a few minutes more these forty men—one of whom was Bob Owens—rode out of the gate, led by the scout who had brought the information concerning that war-party of Kiowas. The squad was commanded by Lieutenant Earle.

"That's all right," whispered Bristow to one of his fellow-conspirators as they stood in front of their quarters and saw their comrades ride away. "There will be just so many men less to follow us to-morrow morning. But I wish we knew which way they are going," he added in a tone of anxiety; "and we must find out if we can. We don't want to run into them if we can possibly avoid them, for there are some of the best men in the garrison in that party."

"I suppose we are off after the hostiles," said the soldier who rode by Bob's side. "The scout told the colonel that there were three hundred braves in that party, didn't he?"

Bob answered that that was what he understood him to say.

"Then I wish we had a hundred men instead of forty," continued the trooper. "Our squad is too large to conceal itself, and too small to make a successful fight against such overwhelming odds. Well, if worst comes to worst—"

The speaker thrust his hand into his boot-leg and drew out a loaded Derringer. He intended to send its contents through his own head rather than fall alive into the hands of the hostiles. Probably nine out of ten men in that squad were provided with weapons just like it, and which they intended to use in the same way should circumstances require it. Veteran Indian-fighters never fail to give this advice to a recruit: "When it comes to a fight, save the last shot for yourself."

But, as it happened, Bob and his companions were not out after hostiles on this particular afternoon, for that raiding-party of Kiowas was already beyond the reach of any force that the commander of Fort Lamoine could have sent in pursuit of it. They found out in due time that their mission was of an entirely different character. They rode at a sharp trot until it was nearly dark, and then they went into camp in a belt of post-oaks and cooked and ate their supper. After an hour's rest they mounted and rode back toward the fort again. Arriving within a mile of the stockade, a halt was ordered, the men were dismounted, and, every fourth trooper being left to hold the horses, the others marched off through the darkness, armed only with their revolvers. Then Bob began to understand the matter. The object of the expedition was to capture the deserters. It had been led away from the fort simply as a "blind," and in order to lull the malcontents into a feeling of security no change whatever had been made in the guards who were to do duty that night.