Almost immediately there came an answer from the Fort:—
"Signal for them not to leave the ridge."
"What good will it do to signal to them now?" cried Guy, stamping about on the tower and making no effort at all to brush the tears from his eyes. "I can't see the column at all,—nothing but Indians!"
But Guy was a good soldier, and he made all haste to signal the post commander's orders to Colonel Fetterman: "Don't leave the ridge," "Don't leave the ridge," but that was all the good it did. None of Colonel Fetterman's men saw the signal, or if they did, they were too busy to reply to it. Guy watched them for a minute or two through eyes which were blinded with tears, but could not see that the Indians were retreating in any way. On the contrary, he seemed to grow almost frantic when he saw the white men falling back. The Indians were gaining ground at every step.
"This beats me," said he, leaning one hand on the Sergeant's shoulder and burying his face on the top of it, "We are whipped! The massacre's come!"
"They might send some re-enforcements from the Fort, sir," suggested the Sergeant, who was also crying like a schoolboy. "They have another hundred men that they can spare for Colonel Fetterman."
"That's so," said Guy, as he caught up the flag again; and he lost no time in sending the state of affairs to the commanding officer.
"The troops are retreating. Fetterman needs re-enforcements. They cannot come too soon."
"There, now, I have done my duty," moaned Guy, seating himself on the block of wood again, "I must stay right here now and see our men whipped."