Starlight Ranch, and Other Stories of Army Life on the Frontier

by Charles King

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE RESCUE.

  All the time, travelling at rapid lope, but at the same time savingBuford's strength for sudden emergency, Ralph McCrea rode warily throughthe night. He kept far to east of the high ridge of the "BuffaloHill,"--Who knew what Indian eyes might be watching there?--and mileafter mile he wound among the ravines and swales which he had learned sowell in by-gone days when he little dreamed of the value that his"plainscraft" might be to him.

  For a while his heart beat like a trip-hammer; every echo of hiscourser's footfall seemed to him to be the rush of coming warriors, andtime and again he glanced nervously over his shoulder, dreading pursuit.But he never wavered in his gallant purpose.

  The long ridge was soon left to his right rear, and now he began to edgeover towards the west, intending in this way to reach the road at apoint where there would lie before him a fifteen-mile stretch of good"going ground." Over that he meant to send Buford at full speed.

  Since starting he had heard no sound of the fray; the ridge and thedistance had swallowed up the clamor; but he knew full well that theraiding Indians would do their utmost this night to burn the Farronranch and kill or capture its inmates. Every recurring thought of theperil of his beleaguered friends prompted him to spur his faithfulsteed, but he had been reared in the cavalry and taught never to drive awilling horse to death.

  The long, sweeping, elastic strides with which Buford bore him over therolling prairie served their needs far better than a mad race of a mileor two, ending in a complete break-down, would have done.

  At last, gleaming in the moonlight, he sighted the hard-beaten road asit twisted and wound over the slopes, and in a few moments more rodebeneath the single wire of the telegraph line, and then gave Buford agentle touch of the steel. He had made a circuit of ten miles or more toreach this point, and was now, he judged, about seven miles below thestation and five miles from Farron's ranch.

  He glanced over his right shoulder and anxiously searched the sky andhorizon. Intervening "divides" shut him off from a view of the valley,but he saw that as yet no glare of flames proceeded from it.

  "Thus far the defence has held its own," he said, hopefully, to himself."Now, if Buford and I can only reach Lodge Pole unmolested there may yetbe time."

  Ascending a gentle slope he reined Buford down to a walk, so that hispet might have a little breathing spell. As he arrived at the crest hecast an eager glance over the next "reach" of prairie landscape, andthen--his heart seemed to leap to his throat and a chill wave to rushthrough his veins.

  Surely he saw a horseman dart behind the low mound off to the west. Thisconvinced him that the Indians had discovered and pursued him. Afterthe Indian fashion they had not come squarely along his trail and thusdriven him ahead at increased speed, but with the savage science oftheir warfare, they were working past him, far to his right, intendingto head him off.

  To his left front the country was clear, and he could see over it for aconsiderable distance. The road, after winding through some intermediateravines ahead, swept around to the left. He had almost determined toleave the trail and make a bee-line across country, and so to outrun thefoeman to his right, when, twice or thrice, he caught the gleam of steelor silver or nickel-plate beyond the low ground in the very direction inwhich he had thought to flee.

  His heart sank low now, for the sight conveyed to his mind but oneidea,--that the gleams were the flashing of moonbeams on the barbaricornaments of Indians, as he had seen them flash an hour ago when thewarriors raced forth into the valley of the Chug. Were the Indians aheadof him then, and on both sides of the road?

  One thing he had to do, and to do instantly: ride into the first hollowhe could find, dismount, crawl to the ridge and peer around him,--studywhich way to ride if he should have to make a race for his own lifenow,--and give Buford time to gather himself for the effort.

  The boy's brave spirit was wrought well-nigh to the limit. His eyesclouded as he thought of his father and the faithful troop, miles andmiles away and all unconscious of his deadly peril; of his anxious andloving mother, wakeful and watching at Laramie, doubtless informed ofthe Indian raid by this time; powerless to help him, but praying God towatch over her boy.

  He looked aloft at the starry heavens and lifted his heart in one briefprayer: "God guard and guide me. I've tried to do my duty as a soldier'sson." And somehow he felt nerved and strengthened.

  He grasped the handle of his cavalry revolver as he guided Buford downto the right where there seemed to be a hollow among the slopes. Just ashe came trotting briskly round a little shoulder of the nearest ridgethere was a rush and patter of hoofs on the other side of it, anexclamation, half-terror, half-menace, a flash and a shot that whizzedfar over his head. A dark, shadowy horseman went scurrying off intospace as fast as a spurred and startled horse could carry him; abroad-brimmed slouch hat was blown back to him as a parting _souvenir_,and Ralph McCrea shouted with relief and merriment as he realized thatsome man--a ranchman doubtless--had taken him for an Indian and had"stampeded," scared out of his wits.

  Ralph dismounted, picked up the hat, swung himself again into saddle,and with rejoicing heart sped away again on his mission. There werestill those suspicious flashes off to the east that he must dodge, andto avoid them he shaped his course well to the west.

  Let us turn for a moment to the camp of the cavalry down in Lodge PoleValley. We have not heard from them since early evening when theoperator announced his intention of going over to have a smoke and achat with some of his friends on guard.

  "Taps," the signal to extinguish lights and go to bed, had sounded earlyand, so far as the operator at Lodge Pole knew when he closed hisinstrument, the battalion had gladly obeyed the summons.

  It happened, however, that the colonel had been talking with one of hismost trusted captains as they left the office a short time before, andthe result of that brief talk was that the latter walked briskly awaytowards the bivouac fires of his troop and called "Sergeant Stauffer!"

  A tall, dark-eyed, bronzed trooper quickly arose, dropped his pipe, andstrode over to where his captain stood in the flickering light, and,saluting, "stood attention" and waited.

  "Sergeant, let the quartermaster-sergeant and six men stay here to loadour baggage in the morning. Mount the rest of the troop at once, withoutany noise,--fully equipped."

  The sergeant was too old a soldier even to look surprised. In fifteenminutes, with hardly a sound of unusual preparation, fifty horsemen had"led into line," had mounted, and were riding silently off northward.The colonel said to the captain, as he gave him a word of good-by,--

  "I don't know that you'll find anything out of the way at all, but, withsuch indications, I believe it best to throw forward a small force tolook after the Chug Valley until we come up. We'll be with you bydinner-time."

  Two hours later, when the telegraph operator, breathless and excited,rushed into the colonel's tent and woke him with the news that his wirewas cut up towards the Chug, the colonel was devoutly thankful for theinspiration that prompted him to send "K" Troop forward through thedarkness. He bade his adjutant, the light-weight of the officers then onduty, take his own favorite racer, Van, and speed away on the trail of"K" Troop, tell them that the line was cut,--that there was troubleahead; to push on lively with what force they had, and that two morecompanies would be hurried to their support.

  At midnight "K" Troop, riding easily along in the moonlight, hadtravelled a little over half the distance to Phillips's ranch. Thelieutenant, who with two or three troopers was scouting far in advance,halted at the crest of a high ridge over which the road climbs, anddismounted his little party for a brief rest while he went up ahead toreconnoitre.

  Cavalrymen in the Indian country never ride into full view on top of a"divide" until after some one of their number has carefully looked overthe ground beyond.

  There was nothing in sight that gave cause for long inspection, or thatwarranted the officer's taking out his field-glasses. He could see th
eline of hills back of the Chugwater Valley, and all was calm and placid.The valley itself lay some hundreds of feet below his point ofobservation, and beginning far off to his left ran northeastward untilone of its branches crossed the trail along which the troop was riding.

  Returning to his party, the lieutenant's eye was attracted, for thefifth or sixth time since they had left Lodge Pole, by little gleams andflashes of light off in the distance, and he muttered, in a somewhatdisparaging manner, to some of the members of his own troop,--

  "Now, what the dickens can those men be carrying to make such a streakas that? One would suppose that Arizona would have taken all thenonsense out of 'em, but that glimmer must come from bright bits orbuckles, or something of the kind, for we haven't a sabre with us. Whatmakes those little flashes, sergeant?" he asked, impatiently.

  "It's some of the tin canteens, sir. The cloth is all worn off a dozenof 'em, and when the moonlight strikes 'em it makes a flash almost likea mirror."

  "Indeed it does, and would betray our coming miles away of a moonlitnight. We'll drop all those things at Laramie. Hullo! Mount, men,lively!"

  The young officer and his party suddenly sprang to saddle. A clatter ofdistant hoofs was heard rapidly approaching along the hard-beaten road.Nearer, nearer they came at tearing gallop. The lieutenant rodecautiously forward to where he could peer over the crest.

  "Somebody riding like mad!" he muttered. "Hatless and demoralized. Whocomes _there_?" he shouted aloud. "Halt, whoever you are!"

  Pulling up a panting horse, pale, wide-eyed, almost exhausted, a youngranchman rode into the midst of the group. It was half a minute beforehe could speak. When at last he recovered breath, it was a marvelloustale that he told.

  "The Chug's crammed with Indians. They've killed all down at Phillips's,and got all around Farron's,--hundreds of 'em. Sergeant Wells tried torun away with Jessie, but they cut him off, and he'd have been killedand Jessie captured but for me and Farron. We charged through 'em, andgot 'em back to the ranch. Then the Indians attacked us there, and therewas only four of us, and some one had to cut his way out. Wells said youfellows were down at Lodge Pole, but he da'sn't try it. I had to." Here"Pete" looked important, and gave his pistol-belt a hitch.

  "I must 'a' killed six of 'em," he continued. "Both my revolvers empty,and I dropped one of 'em on the trail. My hat was shot clean off myhead, but they missed me, and I got through. They chased me every inchof the way up to a mile back over yonder. I shot the last one there. Buthow many men you got?"

  "About fifty," answered the lieutenant. "We'll push ahead at once. Youguide us."

  "I ain't going ahead with no fifty. I tell you there's a thousandIndians there. Where's the rest of the regiment?"

  "Back at Lodge Pole. Go on, if you like, and tell them your story.Here's the captain now."

  With new and imposing additions, Pete told the story a second time.Barely waiting to hear it through, the captain's voice rang along theeager column,--

  "Forward, trot, _march_!"

  Away went the troop full tilt for the Chug, while the ranchman roderearward until he met the supporting squadron two hours behind. Tenminutes after parting with their informant, the officers of "K" Troop,well out in front of their men, caught sight of a daring horsemansweeping at full gallop down from some high bluffs to their left andfront.

  "Rides like an Indian," said the captain; "but no Sioux would come downat us like that, waving a hat, too. By Jupiter! It's Ralph McCrea! Howare you, boy? What's wrong at the Chug?"

  "Farron's surrounded, and I believe Warner's killed!" said Ralph,breathless. "Thank God, you're here so far ahead of where I expected tofind you! We'll get there in time now;" and he turned his panting horseand rode eagerly along by the captain's side.

  "And you've not been chased? You've seen nobody?" was the lieutenant'squestion.

  "Nobody but a white man, worse scared than I was, who left his hatbehind when I ran upon him a mile back here."

  Even in the excitement and urgent haste of the moment, there went up ashout of laughter at the expense of Pete; but as they reached the nextdivide, and got another look well to the front, the laughter gave placeto the grinding of teeth and muttered malediction. A broad glare was inthe northern sky, and smoke and flame were rolling up from the stilldistant valley of the Chug, and now the word was "Gallop!"

  Fifteen minutes of hard, breathless riding followed. Horses snorted andplunged in eager race with their fellows; officers warned even as theygalloped, "Steady, there! Keep back! Keep your places, men!" Bearded,bright-eyed troopers, with teeth set hard together and strainingmuscles, grasped their ready carbines, and thrust home the grim coppercartridges. On and on, as the flaring beacon grew redder and fiercerahead; on and on, until they were almost at the valley's edge, and thenyoung Ralph, out at the front with the veteran captain, panted to him,in wild excitement that he strove manfully to control,--

  "Now keep well over to the left, captain! I know the ground well. It'sall open. We can sweep down from behind that ridge, and they'll neverlook for us or think of us till we're right among them. Hear them yell!"

  "Ay, ay, Ralph! Lead the way. Ready now, men!" He turned in his saddle."Not a word till I order 'Charge!' Then yell all you want to."

  Down into the ravine they thunder; round the moonlit slope they sweep;swift they gallop through the shadows of the eastward bluffs; nearer andnearer they come, manes and tails streaming in the night wind; horsespanting hard, but never flagging.

  Listen! Hear those shots and yells and war-whoops! Listen to the hideouscrackling of the flames! Mark the vengeful triumph in those savagehowls! Already the fire has leaped from the sheds to the roughshingling. The last hope of the sore-besieged is gone.

  Then, with sudden blare of trumpet, with ringing cheer, with thunderinghoof and streaming pennon and thrilling rattle of carbine and pistol;with one magnificent, triumphant burst of speed the troop comes whirlingout from the covert of the bluff and sweeps all before it down thevalley.

  Away go Sioux and Cheyenne; away, yelling shrill warning, go warrior andchief; away, down stream, past the stiffening form of the brave fellowthey killed; away past the station where the loop-holes blaze withrifle-shots and ring with exultant cheers; away across the road and downthe winding valley, and so far to the north and the sheltering arms ofthe reservation,--and one more Indian raid is over.

  But at the ranch, while willing hands were dashing water on the flames,Ralph and the lieutenant sprang inside the door-way just as Farronlifted from a deep, cellar-like aperture in the middle of the floor asobbing yet wonderfully happy little maiden. She clung to himhysterically, as he shook hands with one after another of the fewrescuers who had time to hurry in.

  Wells, with bandaged head and arm, was sitting at his post, his "Henry"still between his knees, and he looked volumes of pride and delight intohis young friend's sparkling eyes. Pete, of course, was nowhere to beseen. Jake, with a rifle-bullet through his shoulder, was grinning palegratification at the troopers who came in, and then there was a moment'ssilence as the captain entered.

  Farron stepped forward and held forth his hand. Tears were starting fromhis eyes.

  "You've saved me and my little girl, captain. I never can thank youenough."

  "Bosh! Never mind us. Where's Ralph McCrea? There's the boy you canthank for it all. _He_ led us!"

  And though hot blushes sprang to the youngster's cheeks, and he, too,would have disclaimed any credit for the rescue, the soldiers would nothave it so. 'Twas Ralph who dared that night-ride to bring the direfulnews; 'twas Ralph who guided them by the shortest, quickest route, andwas with the foremost in the charge. And so, a minute after, when Farronunclasped little Jessie's arms from about his own neck, he whispered inher ear,--

  "'Twas Ralph who saved us, baby. You must thank him for me, too."

  And so, just as the sun was coming up, the little girl with big, darkeyes whom we saw sitting in the railway station at Cheyenne, waitingwearily and patiently for her father's coming
, and sobbing her reliefand joy when she finally caught sight of Ralph, was once more nestling atear-wet face to his and clasping him in her little arms, and thankinghim with all her loyal, loving heart for the gallant rescue that hadcome to them just in time.

  Four days later there was a gathering at Laramie. The general had come;the Fifth were there in camp, and a group of officers had assembled onthe parade after the brief review of the command. The general turnedfrom his staff, and singled out a captain of cavalry who stood close athand.

  "McCrea, I want to see that boy of yours. Where is he?"

  An orderly sped away to the group of spectators and returned with asilent and embarrassed youth, who raised his hat respectfully, but saidno word. The general stepped forward and held out both his hands.

  "I'm proud to shake hands with you, young gentleman. I've heard allabout you from the Fifth. You ought to go to West Point and be a cavalryofficer."

  "There's nothing I so much wish, general," stammered Ralph, with beamingeyes and burning cheeks.

  "Then we'll telegraph his name to Washington this very day, gentlemen. Iwas asked to designate some young man for West Point who thoroughlydeserved it, and is not this appointment well won?"

  FROM "THE POINT" TO THE PLAINS.