Winged Arrow's Medicine; Or, The Massacre at Fort Phil Kearney

by Harry Castlemon

"Yes, everything is all handy. You sit down here in my bedroom, and if any of the officers come in to see me they will be none the wiser for it."

Cyrus seated himself in one of the spots which the Colonel pointed out to him—it was not a chair, however, but an empty box which had once contained canned beef—and pulled off his buckskin jacket, while the Colonel went into the next room and presently returned with the dispatches for which the boy was about to run so much risk. It was a very small package, but there was a great deal written on it. It conveyed to the Commanding General the information that the Colonel had succeeded in building Fort Phil Kearney, but instead of using it as a basis for movements against the hostile Indians, the Sioux had shut him up in it, hoping that when their ammunition and provisions gave out, they could make a raid and destroy every man there was in the Fort. His condition was perilous in the extreme. Every wagon train that he sent out for fuel was protected by a large force, and if the Sioux were smart enough to cut off one of those forces, or get between them and the Fort, thus dividing his men, the annihilation of all of them would be a matter of hours and not of days. He begged earnestly for re-enforcements of five hundred men, and he could do nothing until such force arrived.

"I wish the General could be here for about five minutes and see just how we are situated," said the Colonel, as he placed the dispatch on the table by the side of Cyrus. "He would learn better than to send out such a small body of troops as mine to confront the whole tribe of Sioux Indians. Cyrus, I hope you will get through with that dispatch."

"Kurn, if any living man can accomplish it, I can," said the scout. "Now, have you got the other dispatch ready?"

"Yes, but I don't place any faith in that. If you are caught the savages will strip you—"

"And this dispatch will be the only one they will find. Our fellows fooled the rebels more than once by carrying concealed papers—"

"But rebels and Indians are two different things. To be honest, I do not think that you will be able to get through; but if you do, talk to that General as you would to a father. You can tell him more in regard to our situation here than I could write in a week."

"I will do my best, Kurn, but you must not place any dependence on me. Tony and his partner have tried it and failed, and that leaves but a small chance for me."

Cyrus, having pulled a knife from his pocket, was busy with his buckskin shirt which he had drawn off, cutting away the inside lining to make a receptacle for the dispatches about which the Colonel was so anxious. It was close up under his arm, so that when the shirt was on and Cyrus stood at his ease, no one would have supposed that there was anything hidden away there. The opening for them being made, Cyrus folded the dispatches into a smaller compass than they were before, and having placed them therein proceeded with his needle and thread to sew up the opening again, just as it was before.

This being done, he was ready for the second dispatch, which was really a "bogus dispatch" and was intended solely for the Indians to read. The Colonel knew that there were some savages in that party who could read English, and he knew, too, that this bogus dispatch, if the other could be concealed, would have an alarming effect upon them. It was the idea of Cyrus, and the Colonel had reluctantly agreed to it. It was very different from the dispatch that had been concealed in the scout's hunting shirt, and said that the General's letter had been received, that the re-enforcement of one thousand men would be amply sufficient to break up the Sioux camp, and that when they arrived he would be ready to assume the offensive.