Warrior Gap: A Story of the Sioux Outbreak of '68.

by Charles King

  CHAPTER III.

  Down along the building railway in the valley or the Platte there hadbeen two years of frequent encounter with small bands of Indians. Downalong the Smoky Hill, in Kansas, the Cheyennes were ever giving trouble.Even around Laramie and Frayne, on the North Platte, settlers andsoldiers had been murdered, as well as one or two officers, caught aloneout hunting, and the Indians were, of course, the perpetrators.Nevertheless, it had been the policy of the leaders of the NorthernSioux to avoid any meeting in force and to deny the complicity of theirpeople in the crimes committed. Supply trains to Reno, Kearney and C. F.Smith, the Big Horn posts of the Bozeman Trail went to and fro withguards of only moderate size. Officers had taken their wives andchildren to these far-away stations. The stockades were filled withsoldiers' families. Big bands of Indians roamed the lovely valleys ofthe Piney, the Tongue, and Rosebud, near at hand, and rode into fullview of the wary sentries at the stockades, yet made no hostiledemonstration. Officers and men went far up the rocky canons of thehills in search of fish or game, and came back unmolested. Escortsreported that they sometimes marched all day long side by side withhunting bands of Sioux, a mile away; and often little parties, squawsand boys and young men, would ride confidently over and beg for sugar,coffee, hardtack--anything, and ride off with their plunder in the bestof spirits and with all apparent good feeling. And yet the greatwar-chief of the Brules--Sintogaliska--Spotted Tail, the white man'sfriend, gave solemn warning not to trust the Ogallallas. "Red Cloud'sheart is bad," he said. "He and his people are moving from thereservations to the mountains. They mean trouble." Old traders likeFolsom heard and heeded, and Folsom himself hastened to Fort Frayne thevery week that Burleigh and his escort left for Warrior Gap. Visiting atthe ranch of his son in a beautiful nook behind the Medicine BowMountains, the veteran trader heard tidings from an Indian brave thatfilled him with apprehension, and he hurried to the fort.

  "Is it true," he asked, "that the government means to establish a postat Warrior Gap? Is it true that Major Burleigh has gone thither?" Andwhen told that it was and that only Captain Brooks's troop had gone asescort, Folsom's agitation was extreme. "Colonel," said he, to the postcommander, "solemnly I have tried to warn the general of the danger ofthat move. I have told him that all the northern tribes are leaguingnow, that they have determined to keep to themselves the Big Horncountry and the valleys to the north. It will take five thousand men tohold those three posts against the Sioux, and you've barely got fivehundred. I warn you that any attempt to start another post up there willbring Red Cloud and all his people to the spot. Their scouts arewatching like hawks even now. Iron Spear came to me at my son's ranchlast night and told me not ten warriors were left at the reservation.They are all gone, and the war dances are on in every valley from theBlack Hills to the Powder. For heaven's sake send half your garrison upto Reno after Brooks. You are safe here. They won't molest you south ofthe Platte, at least not now. All they ask is that you build no moreforts in the Big Horn."

  But the colonel could not act without authority. Telegraph there wasnone then. What Folsom said was of sufficient importance to warrant hishurrying off a courier to Laramie, fully one hundred miles southeast,and ordering a troop to scout across the wild wastes to the north, whileFolsom himself, unable to master his anxiety, decided to accompany thecommand sent out toward Cantonment Reno. He long had had influence withthe Ogallallas. Even now Red Cloud might listen if he could but findhim. The matter was of such urgency he could not refrain. And so withthe gray troop of the cavalry, setting forth within an hour of hiscoming, rode the old trader whom the Indians had so long sworn by, andhe started none too soon.

  Reno was some ninety miles away, and not until late the next evening didthe grays reach the lonely post. Not a sign of hostile Indian had beenseen or heard, said the officer in command. Small bands of hunters wereout toward Pumpkin Butte two days before.--Yes, Ogallallas--and ascouting party, working down the valley of the Powder, had met no bandat all, though trails were numerous. They were now patroling toward theBig Horn. Perhaps there'd be a courier in to-morrow. Better get a goodnight's rest meantime, he said. But all the same he doubled his guardsand ordered extra vigilance, for all men knew John Folsom, and whenFolsom was anxious on the Indian question it was time to look alive.Daybreak came without a sign, but Folsom could not rest. The grays hadno authority to go beyond Reno, but such was his anxiety that it wasdecided to hold the troop at the cantonment for a day or two. Meantime,despite his years, Folsom decided to push on for the Gap. All efforts todissuade him were in vain. With him rode Baptiste, a half-breedFrenchman whose mother was an Ogallalla squaw, and "Bat" had served himmany a year. Their canteens were filled, their saddle-pouches packed.They led along an extra mule, with camp equipage, and shook handsgravely with the officers ere they rode away. "All depends," saidFolsom, "on whether Red Cloud is hereabouts in person. If he is and Ican get his ear I can probably stave off trouble long enough to getthose people at the Gap back to Kearney, or over here. They're goners ifthey attempt to stay there and build that post. If you don't have wordfrom us in two days, send for all the troops the government can raise.It will take every mother's son they've got to whip the Sioux when oncethey're leagued together."

  "But our men have the new breech-loaders now, Mr. Folsom," said theofficers. "The Indians have only old percussion-cap rifles, and not toomany of them."

  "But there are twenty warriors to every soldier," was the answer, "andall are fighting men."

  They watched the pair until they disappeared far to the west. All daylong the lookouts searched the horizon. All that night the sentrieslistened for hoof-beats on the Bozeman road, but only the weird chorusof the coyotes woke the echoes of the dark prairie. Dawn of the secondday came, and, unable to bear suspense, the major sent a little party,mounted on their fleetest horses, to scour the prairies at least halfwayto the foothills of the Big Horn, and just at nightfall they cameback--three at least--galloping like mad, their mounts a mass of foam.Folsom's dread was well founded. Red Cloud, with heaven only knew howmany warriors, had camped on Crazy Woman's Fork within the past threedays, and gone on up stream. He might have met and fought the troopssent out three days before. He must have met the troops dispatched toWarrior Gap.

  And this last, at least, he had done. For a few seconds after the fallof the buffalo bull, the watchers on the distant ridge lay still, exceptthat Dean, turning slightly, called to the orderly trumpeter, who hadcome trotting out after the troop commander, and was now halted andafoot some twenty yards down the slope. "Go back, Bryan," he ordered."Halt the ambulances. Notify Captain Brooks that there are lots ofIndians ahead, and have the sergeant deploy the men at once." Then heturned back and with his field glass studied the party along the ravine.

  "They can't have seen us, can they, lieutenant?" muttered the troopernearest him.

  But Dean's young face was grave and clouded. Certainly the Indians actedas though they were totally unaware of the presence of troops, but themore he thought the more he knew that no big body of Sioux would betraveling across country at so critical a time (country, too, that wasconquered as this was from their enemies, the Crows), without vigilantscouts afar out on front and flank. The more he thought the more he knewthat even as early as three o'clock those keen-eyed fellows must havesighted his little column, conspicuous as it was because of its wagons.Beyond question, he told himself, the chief of the band or village sosteadily approaching from the northeast had full information of theirpresence, and was coming confidently ahead. What had he to fear? Eventhough the blood of settlers and soldiers might still be red upon thehands of his braves, even though fresh scalps might be dangling at thismoment from their shields, what mattered it? Did he not know that thesafeguard of the Indian Bureau spread like the wing of a protectingangel over him and his people, forbidding troops to molest or open fireunless they themselves were attacked? Did he not laugh in his raggedshirt sleeve at the policy of the white fool who would permit the redenemy to ride boldly up to his sold
iers, count their numbers, inspecttheir array, satisfy himself as to their armament and readiness, thencalculate the chances, and, if he thought the force too strong, ride onhis way with only a significant gesture in parting insult? If, on thecontrary, he found it weak then he could turn loose his braves,surround, massacre and scalp, and swear before the commissioners sentout to investigate next moon that he and his people knew nothing aboutthe matter--nothing, at least, that they could be induced to tell.

  One moment more Dean watched and waited. Two of the Indians in theravine were busily reloading their rifles. Two others were aiming overthe bank, for, with the strange stupidity of their kind, the otherbuffalo, even when startled by the shot, had never sought safety inflight, but were now sniffing the odor of blood on the tainted air, andslowly, wonderingly drawing near the stricken leader as though to askwhat ailed him. Obedient and docile, the Indian ponies stood withdrooping heads, hidden under the shelter of the steep banks. Nearer andnearer came the big black animals, bulky, stupid, fatuous; the foremostlowered a huge head to sniff at the blood oozing from the shoulder ofthe dying bull, then two more shots puffed out from the ravine, the hugehead tossed suddenly in air, and the ungainly brute started andstaggered, whirled about and darted a few yards away, then plunged onits knees, and the next moment, startled at some sight the soldierwatchers could not see, the black band was seized with sudden panic, anddarted like mad into the depths of the watercourse, disappeared onemoment from sight, then, suddenly reappearing, came laboring up thehither side, straight for the crest on which they lay, a dozen black,bounding, panting beasts thundering over the ground, followed by half adozen darting Indian ponies, each with his lithe red rider scurrying inpursuit.

  "Out of the way, men! Don't fire!" shouted Dean. And, scrambling backtoward their horses, the lieutenant and his men drew away from the frontof the charging herd, invisible as yet to the halted troop and to theoccupants of the ambulance, whose eager heads could be seen poked out atthe side doors of the leading vehicle, as though watching for the causeof the sudden halt.

  And then a thing happened that at least one man saw and fortunatelyremembered later. Bryan, the trumpeter, with jabbing heels and flappingarms, was tearing back toward the troop at the moment at the top speedof his gray charger, already so near that he was shouting to thesergeant in the lead. By this time, too, that veteran trooper, with thequick sense of duty that seemed to inspire the war-time sergeant, hadjumped his little column "front into line" to meet the unseen danger; sothat now, with carbines advanced, some thirty blue jackets were alignedin the loose fighting order of the prairies in front of the foremostwagon. The sight of the distant officer and men tumbling hurriedly backand to one side, out of the way presumably of some swiftly-coming peril,acted like magic on the line. Carbines were quickly brought to ready,the gun locks crackling in chorus as the horses pranced and snorted. Butit had a varying effect on the occupants of the leading wagon. The shoutof "Indians" from Bryan's lips, the sight of scurry on the ridge aheadbrought the engineer and aide-de-camp springing out, rifle in hand, totake their manly part in the coming fray. It should have brought MajorBurleigh too, but that appropriately named non-combatant never showedoutside. An instant more and to the sound of rising thunder, before theastonished eyes of the cavalry line there burst into view, full tear forsafety, the uncouth, yet marvelously swift-running leaders of the littleherd. The whole dozen came flying across the sky line and down thegentle slope, heading well around to the left of the line of troopers,while sticking to their flanks like red nettles half a dozen youngwarriors rode like the wind on their nimble ponies, cracking away withrevolver or rifle in savage joy in the glorious sport. Too much forBurleigh's nerve was the combination of sounds, thunder of hoofs andsputter of shots, for when a cheer of sympathetic delight went up fromthe soldier line at sight of the chase, and the young engineer sprang tothe door of the ambulance to help the major out, he found him a limp andghastly heap, quivering with terror in the bottom of the wagon, lookingfor all the world as if he were trying to crawl under the seat.