Some half-dozen officers were in the store awaiting the distribution of the mail. The congressman, the Indian agent, and the divine soon discovered who was the officer in command of the fort. They immediately approached him on the subject of an escort.
The officer said he had comparatively few men; his small force was scattered along the stage-road for two hundred miles; he had only twenty men present for duty; but he would try to furnish three or four men. “An officer and a sergeant,” he said, “were going up on the coach to see to the defences of the station-guards along the road.” The conductor here put in his oar, and said it would be impossible for him to take four men more. This settled the question of an escort. The congressman, the divine, and the Indian agent, having ascertained that they could be accommodated with bed and board at the sutler’s, concluded “to stay over for the present.”
The conductor and the driver did not seem to regret this determination. The former remarked that this lightening of our load helped us much, and we should now be able “to pull through” in good time.
While we were waiting to have the mail made up, a mounted man came in at full speed with news that a government wagon train had been attacked by Indians on one of the roads leading to the post—that the teams were very much scattered—that some of the mules were already in the hands of the Indians. This caused a flutter among the officers. A company of infantry was ordered at once to the relief of the train.
As we left the fort we could see the infantry going over the rise at a double-quick and in skirmish order.
We stopped for a moment, in rear of the officers’ quarters, to take up the officer and the sergeant. The officer’s wife and little child came out to see him off. He kissed them both affectionately, and took his seat with us on top of the coach. The sergeant, also, rode on the roof. Both were well armed. Much to my delight, the officer, finding me unarmed, furnished me with a spare musket he had brought with him.
At first, I was rather disappointed in this officer. He was very plainly dressed. He had just enough gold lace about him to indicate his rank, and no more. I had supposed that regular officers always wore epaulets and white kid gloves. However, the lieutenant—for such was our new passenger’s rank—was evidently a gentleman. He had a certain quiet, unobtrusive affability which charmed me very much. I was glad he had come. His easy self-possession inspired me with confidence.
“If we meet any Indians, lieutenant,” said the conductor, an old hand who had driven stage for ten years along the Great Sandy, “we’ll have to do the work from out here; there’s nobody below (pointing downwards) to help us.”
“Do you think we may be attacked by Indians?” I ventured to ask.
“Think it most probable we shall see some, at the least,” answered the officer. “They have shown themselves at several points along the line. The Great Alamos, which we have to pass, is a favorite crossing-place, when they go south in the spring or north in the fall.”