CHAPTER XII.A FLYING FIGHT.
Captain Taylor saw the desperate need of help for the unfortunate inmates of Fort Advance quite as clearly as did Buffalo Bill, but his men were in heavy marching order, and there were the artillery and ambulances to be thought of, too. The column was strung out along the trail for two miles.
“It will take some time to bring the men up and form in line of battle, Cody,” declared Captain Taylor.
“And meanwhile Oak Heart will throw his entire force over those palisades!” cried the scout. “By the time we deploy into the valley there’ll be no garrison, and the red devils can turn their attention to us. The firing will call up the gang from the cañon, and we’ll be between two fires.”
“It can’t be helped——”
“Itcanbe helped, sir—begging your pardon! Give me a few of your men and let me push on. It will make a diversion in favor of the garrison. If the braves see us coming they’ll hesitate about throwing themselves into the fort and so being caught in a trap.”
“Good, Cody! You are right. And your appearance will at least show that help is at hand and encourage the garrison. But I’m afraid you’ll be cut to pieces.”
“We’ll have to take that chance. Somebody has got to die this day—why not us?” demanded the courageous scout. “Let me have some of your cavalry as they come up. There’s the head of the column!”
“Go, and God bless you, my brave fellow! Take all the men whose horses can stand a hard run,” said the gallant captain.
He signaled the head of the column forward at once. The troops had already heard the firing, and were eager to get into action.
“You’ll have to bring your artillery and ambulances down into the valley by yonder ridge, captain,” said the scout, pointing out the tongue of rocky land over which he had raced the day before with his pack-load of ammunition for the beleaguered fort. “From there you can sweep the valley to the very gates of the fort, and likewise you can cover the exit of the cañon through which the ambushing party will like enough pour in a short time.”
“Good! I’ll make a note of that,” declared the officer. “There, Cody, are your men. Pick out the horses you think will be able to keep somewhere near your whitey. Every man of them is eager to attend, I promise you!”
This was true enough, as the scout well knew. In five minutes, with two lieutenants and a couple of score of troopers at his heels, the scout set the pace over the ridge and down into the smoke-wreathed valley.
They were soon in full sight of the fort and the redskins clamoring about it. And it was a complete surprise to Oak Heart and his braves to see reenforcements for the whites so near at hand. As for the defenders of Fort Advance, they were wild with joy to see even this small troop coming to their rescue.
Buffalo Bill’s white steed was recognized, and cheers rent the air from the garrison which, a few moments before, had given up all hope. The Indians had been about to rush the stockade, and then a hand-to-hand fight would have ensued inside the fort which could have ended in but one way. The redskins outnumbered the whites so greatly, despite their losses, that the garrison would have been completely overwhelmed.
Oak Heart saw that he was likely to be defeated, after all. Victory had all but perched upon his banners; now, with his forces separated, he was very likely to taste the bitter ashes of defeat!
But the Sioux king was a born leader and strategist. He saw that, in some way, his plans for ambuscading the relief party had fallen through. His three hundred braves were idle up the cañon while the whites from Fort Resistence were coming to the help of their comrades by another way. Those reserve forces he needed, and needed at once.
He spoke to the White Antelope. She had acted as his aid all through the battle, and now she wheeled her pony instantly and dashed away toward the mouthof the cañon. She was instructed to inform the ambuscading party of the change in affairs and to bring them back at top speed.
Buffalo Bill and his flying column of cavalry saw and understood this move. Lieutenant Dick Danforth, the dashing young lieutenant who ranked in command of the party, spurred up beside Cody.
“See that girl yonder?” he cried.
“I see her,” returned the scout gravely.
“She’s a messenger, eh?”
“She is.”
“Isn’t that the way into the cañon where those other Indians were lying in wait for us?”
“You’re mighty right, lieutenant,” admitted the scout.
“We must stop her!”
The scout remained silent, measuring the distance between them and the flying White Antelope, and the mouth of the cañon as well.
“We’vegotto stop her!” exclaimed Dick Danforth.
“How are you going to do it?” demanded Cody grimly.
Danforth picked up his carbine quickly. Cody at once laid his hand on the young officer’s arm.
“No, no, Dick!” he said, with feeling. “Not that!”
“What do you mean, scout?” demanded the young officer, displeased.
“You must not shoot that girl!”
“Why, she’s a confounded squaw—and she’s an enemy—and she’s taking a message that may bring trouble to us all.”
“She must be stopped; but you must not kill her.”
“What’s the matter with you, Cody?” the young man demanded again. “She’s nothing but a redskin.”
“There is another way—without taking her life,” declared the scout.
“What makes you so tender of the squaw? Lord! I don’t askyouto shoot her,” and the lieutenant raised his carbine again.
Cody’s hand this time fell upon the lieutenant’s wrist with force, as he urged Chief alongside the other’s mount.
“And by God, sir!youshall not shoot her—above all men!” he cried.
“What do you mean by this?” demanded Lieutenant Danforth, his face white as death. “I have a reason for killing every damned Indian that comes under my eye—you knowthat, Bill Cody!”
“Perhaps; but not White Antelope,” said the scout earnestly.
“And why not White Antelope, as you call her? Is she any better than any other of the devil’s red spawn? Let go of my arm! I’m going to shoot that girl!”
“You are beside yourself!” exclaimed Cody coldly. “Do you want it told around your mess that you deliberately shot a squaw-woman?”
“She’s a messenger, man!”
“That’s no excuse.”
“I tell you the red devils killed my people—butchered them! I saw my father with his head split open by an Indian hatchet! My mother was dragged away to a worse death, it’s likely.I’ve sworn revenge on every redskin that walks the earth!Let go of me, Cody, or I’ll kill you!”
“You are beside yourself, sir,” said the scout, still coldly. “You would not kill me, for I have always been your friend. It was I who got you your chance at West Point. It was I who made you what you are now. You’ll not killme, Dick Danforth!”
The two had ridden furiously ahead of the troopers, both bearing off toward the cañon’s mouth toward which the squaw was flying on her pony. The other men could not hear this conversation, jerked out between the jumps of the two great horses.
That Dick Danforth, the young lieutenant, was beside himself, was easily to be seen. He was not responsible at the moment for his actions or speech.
“That gal must not be harmed, Danforth,” said Cody firmly. “If you hold any gratitude in your heart toward me, show it now. I demand that the girl be unharmed—now or at any other time—and especially at your hand.”
The scout’s seriousness—aye, his passion in saying this—impressed Danforth so deeply that his own rage gave place to wonder.
“Why, what do you know about her, Cody? Who is she?”
“It does not matter. I must have your promise.Youmust never harm the White Antelope. Indeed, you must guard her and keep others from harming her with your life; do you understand?”
“No, Idon’tunderstand. And I won’t help an Injun.”
“You will do as I say, Dick.”
“No!”
“I demand it, Dick!” said the scout feelingly.
“That is not fair, Cody!”
“It is fair. I saved your life. I made you what you are. I have a right to some return, and I demand this.”
“Oh, thunder, Bill!” ejaculated Dick Danforth, more in his usual light tone than before. “If you put itthatway——”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll have to promise.”
“Very well, my boy. I hold you to your word.”
“But don’t you ever ask me to save an Injun again, for I won’t do it!”
“All right.”
“And while we’ve been rowing, that blamed squaw is getting away. She’ll carry the alarm to the other Indians as sure as shooting!”
“She won’t!” returned the scout, with confidence. “Ride on with your men, Dick. Cut your way through that gang of reds to the gates of the fort if necessary. Off with you! Leave the girl to me!”
With a wave of his hand he clapped spurs to Chief, and pulled sharply on his rein. The girl had almost reached the mouth of the cañon when Cody started in direct pursuit.