LASSOING A SIOUX.
No one knew better than did Lieutenant Carey just what was expected of him by the general, and he was fully aware of all the dangers attending the performance of his duties.
The Indian police were as yet untried in war against their own race, and with the medicine men of the tribes urging them to madness almost in regard to the coming of a redskin messiah to aid them in wiping the pale faces off the earth, and again becoming the masters of their country.
Might not some, if not all, of those under his command prove treacherous?
It was a question that could not be readily answered; but he was launched upon his special work and must abide the consequences.
It was true that the Indian guards had proven heroes, and true as steel in the capture of Sitting Bull, but then the redskins were as fickle as the wind, here to-day and gone to-morrow, friends by day and foes by night.
Still Kit Carey hoped for the best, and at the head of his redskin cavalry boldly plunged into the dangers before him.
The Indians, having broken away from the reservations, and corrals held about them by the wavering line of soldiers, the young officer knew that to hover aboutthe Bad Lands was his duty, and only chance of discovering the information he sought.
Knowing the country well he divided his force into squads, sending them to various points, from whence they could watch the trails in and out of the Bad Lands, and the bands that were assembling there.
In this way he hoped to get at the real force of the redskins, and by a round of the posts himself learn just what he wished from his Indian police, as to all movements made under their observation.
"I will learn the exact situation, if I have to go into the Bad Lands myself," he muttered, in his determined way.
When morning came he had placed several observation squads of his men, and by noon had only a dozen left with him.
These went into hiding in a ravine, with a sentinel in a tree to watch a trail running a mile away.
Then Kit Carey started off on a reconnaissance alone, intending to make a wide circuit of the trails leading into the Bad Lands.
It was nearly sunset when he neared the top of a ridge, and wisely dismounted to look cautiously over into the valley beyond before venturing.
He took off his hat, gained the shelter of a bush, and peered over.
What he saw seemed to surprise him.
Not three hundred yards away were two persons on horseback.
One was an Indian chief, in war-paint and eagle feathers.
The other was a woman, and a pale face.
As do many army officers, Kit Carey carried a repeating rifle when on a scout.
It hung at his saddle horn, and he quickly sprang to the side of his horse and secured it.
He could believe only that the woman was the captive of the redskin.
His rifle was of large caliber and long range, and he was noted as the best shot in the army of the frontier.
"There must be others near, though I could not discover them; but I can drop him, mount, and dash to her aid, and then run for it with her," he mused to himself, while examining his rifle to see that it was in perfect trim.
Then he crept cautiously toward the bush again, peered through, with rifle ready.
But Kit Carey did not fire as he had intended, for to his surprise, he beheld the Indian chief riding slowly up the trail toward him, while the one whom he had supposed was his captive was cantering off in the other direction.
But the Indian was a chief, and in full war-paint, and that meant trouble, if the two met.
He was in a locality where his life was at stake, within the danger line for miles, and a shot might bring hundreds upon him.
"This will be better than my rifle, though I would have fired to save her," he muttered, and he took his lasso coil from his saddle.
One end he left attached to the saddle horn, and leading his horse close to the steep bank near the bush, stood there behind its shelter with the noose in his hand ready to throw.
lariat
"Lieut. Carey's lariat whizzed through the air, and settled over the shoulders of the chief."(See page47)
On came the Sioux chief all unconscious of danger, and, peering fixedlyat him, the officer said, with some surprise:
"Ah! it is that desperate young chief who tried so hard to rescue Sitting Bull some days ago, for twice he fired full at me, yet my star of luck hovered over me. Now I will have a chance to get even," and he grasped the lariat more firmly.
On came the Sioux chief, his black and white spotted pony, all unconscious of danger even. Nearer and nearer approached the Sioux chief, until suddenly Lieutenant Carey arose, and his lariat went whizzing through the air with surest aim, settling over the shoulders of the chief, pinning his arms to his side, and, as his pony bounded away, dragging him from his saddle to the ground.
Hardly had the Indian fallen ere Kit Carey was standing over him, his revolver muzzle in his face, while he said sternly in the Sioux tongue:
"You are my prisoner, chief! Make no resistance, and I will not harm you."
But the chief had uttered one loud cry as he felt the noose tighten about him, and Kit Carey felt that it was a call for help to braves who were near, and so was anxious to secure his prisoner, determined to use him as a hostage and foil, if caught in a tight place.
In response to his words the Sioux looked into the face of the officer, and replied:
"The Red Hatchet is the friend of the pale faces, not their foe. He is here to keep his warriors back from the war-trail."
"Does the Red Hatchet think that I am blind, for didI not see him lead the redskins to rescue Tatanka Yotanke?"
And as he spoke Kit Carey turned quickly, for up the steep trail came a horse at full speed, and the rider he bore was Jennie Bernard.
A WOMAN'S WAY.
Kit Carey was fairly startled at the vision of loveliness he beheld before him, for Jennie Bernard had drawn rein suddenly, as she came to where the Sioux chief lay upon the ground, still in the toils of the lasso held in the hand of his captor, who stood over him, his revolver covering him.
Attired in a buckskin riding habit that fitted her form perfectly, wearing a slouch dove-colored hat, and sitting her horse like one reared in the saddle, she was a perfect picture of a border girl, handsome and fearless.
Hardly had her horse been reined to a sudden halt, when the chief spoke in good English:
"Let the Snow Flower speak! Is the Red Hatchet the friend, or the foe, of the pale faces?"
Ever courteous Kit Carey had raised his hat, and now at the words of the imprisoned Sioux chief, spoken most impressively, he had looked straight into the face of the young girl with a strange expression.
"The Red Hatchet is my friend, the friend of our people. Oh, sir! I beg you not to do him harm!"
Instantly did Kit Carey stoop, and unloosen the noose and coil, while he extended his hand, and said:
"Rise, chief, and, believe me, I feel sorry at having made you a prisoner, though to find you here near the retreat of the hostiles I could but take you for a foe,while you are also in full war-paint and battle costume. Why is this, chief?"
"The Red Hatchet wears a double face now. He is the friend of the pale faces, yet not the foe of his people. He will not be a traitor Sioux, and only when in war-paint and feathers can he talk to his braves as one who is not a coward, and urge them not to strike the blow that will destroy them."
The words were delivered with a natural oratory, for which many Indians are noted, and they had their effect even upon such an old frontiersman as was Kit Carey, for he said frankly:
"Again, I say that I am sorry, chief, so let us be friends, though I could swear that I saw you lead the attempted rescue of Sitting Bull, and several times seek my life."
"The Red Hatchet was not there at the death of our great medicine chief," was the quick response of the Sioux.
"Then it was your twin brother?"
"No, no, sir; the Red Hatchet was not there, and I beg you will allow him to go," quickly said Jennie Bernard.
"May I ask, miss, how you heard down here of the death of Sitting Bull, so soon after its happening," and the eyes of the officer were fixed searchingly upon the face of the maiden.
Her face flushed, yet she answered in a quiet way:
"The news was brought by a Sioux Indian, sir."
"Ah!" and with this exclamation various thoughts flashed like lightning through the mind of the officer.
Vouched for by a white maiden, lovely in face andform, and declared not to have been at the attempt at rescue of Sitting Bull, in contradiction to his own eye-sight, even, Kit Carey felt compelled to yield.
Yet the sad thought came upon him that this lovely young pale face girl loved the Indian chief.
What could he believe otherwise, for now the belief at first that she was a captive, had changed to the almost certain knowledge that he had come upon a lover's tryst, if one was white, the other red.
Pocahontas had saved the life of Captain Smith, and then married a white man, and a number of such marriages had occurred away back in the earlier history of our country.
Here was as handsome an Indian as he had ever seen, one who spoke like an orator, and seemed born to command, and the romantic girl had fallen in love with him, Kit Carey decided.
It was a bad thing for the girl, but good for her people, for such a chief must have power over his braves, and would hold them in check.
So, turning to the maiden, Kit Carey said:
"I am glad, miss, if it is as you say, and I accept your pledge for the Sioux chief, while, to him I would say, to go among his people, and tell them how utterly useless will it be for them to fight the whites, and the sooner he acts the better will it be for all."
"The Red Hatchet has heard, and will do as the White War Eagle says, for he knows him."
"Ah! I thought that we had met before," quickly said the officer.
"The White War Eagle has been the bitter foe of theSioux, when on the war-path; but the Red Hatchet is his friend now."
The chief extended his hand, and Kit Carey grasped it, and then said:
"There is the pony of the chief. Let him lose no time in going to his braves and urging them against war."
Thus dismissed, the chief stalked silently to his pony, mounted, and rode away, while Kit Carey turned to Jennie Bernard, who now seemed confused at the position in which she found herself, for she spoke not a word.
"May I introduce myself as Lieutenant Carey, miss, and offer to be your escort to your home, for I know of no settlers' dwelling within miles of here?"
"My father's is the nearest, sir. I am Miss Bernard," was the response, and the manner and tone seemed more embarrassed than before.
"And Miss Bernard will accept me as her escort, for she is in danger of her life here?"
"I will, sir, and thank you," was the earnest reply.
Then, as Kit Carey threw himself into his saddle and wheeled alongside of her, she cried suddenly as she burst into tears:
"Oh, Lieutenant Carey! what harm may I not have done, for I told you a falsehood, for the Red Hatchet is the most desperate leader of the hostiles!"
A PUZZLED SOLDIER.
The daring young cavalryman, who would face any danger with a nerve of iron, fairly started and turned pale under the sudden confession from Jennie Bernard.
"I have told you a falsehood, for Red Hatchet is the most desperate leader of the hostiles."
Kit Carey was almost dazed for a moment, and could only look at the young girl for a more thorough explanation of her strange words and actions.
Suddenly he recovered himself, and wheeling his horse seemed about to ride back in pursuit of the Sioux chief.
Discerning his purpose, the girl cried quickly:
"Hold, sir! you would only dash into a peril your daring could never save you from, while it would be useless to pursue Red Hatchet with the start he has."
"I believe you are right in that," he answered, thoughtfully.
"Come, lieutenant, you were to be my escort home," said the young girl.
"It does not appear that you need an escort, Miss Bernard, from any fear of danger, as the Sioux chief is your friend."
She flushed at his words, for she recognized their significance in an instant, and, almost eagerly, said:
"Do not spring at conclusions, sir; but come with me, for I have something to explain, while I may tell youthat which may be of service to you, as an officer of the army. Is your command within call, may I ask, and is it sufficiently large to keep at bay a force of a hundred or more redskins?"
Kit Carey was about to answer that he had no command, or one that he could call upon, when he thought how strange was the manner of the girl, and her question as to its numbers, while she had shown such eagerness for the escape of the Sioux chief.
Could her love for the Indian have made her a renegade to her own people, he wondered.
"Love will cause one to do strange things," he muttered to himself, and in reply to her question he responded:
"My command will be within call when needed, Miss Bernard, but you were saying——"
"I am glad you have a force near, for now I breathe more freely, Lieutenant Kit Carey."
"Ah! And how did you know me as Kit Carey?" he asked, with considerable surprise, recalling that he had not spoken of himself except as Lieutenant Carey.
"Are there two of your name in the army, sir?"
"Not two bearing the name of Kit Carey."
"You were lately on the staff of Colonel Crandall at Fort F——?"
"Yes."
"You are the one of whom I have heard a great deal, for your deeds have often been discussed around our hearth, Lieutenant Carey. I was sure when you said that your name was Carey that you must be Lieutenant Kit Carey, as you look like just such a man as he is described as being."
Was the girl trying to gain time for some reason, Kit wondered, thatshe talked thus.
The officer was compelled to confess to himself that thus far she was a riddle he could not solve.
They were riding along the trail side by side now, and as he made no response to her last remark, she continued, in her frank way:
"I am glad to meet you, Lieutenant Carey, glad that you are the hero of whom I have heard so much, for now I can be more honest with you."
"I wish you would be, and as an incentive I will say that but for the fact that I did not wish to discharge a weapon in this vicinity, I would have killed the Red Hatchet, not captured him."
"And why, sir?"
"I reconnoitered over the ridge and saw him with you, so could only believe you were his captive."
"His captive?"
"So I supposed, for I did not think that it was possible to be otherwise, and I went to get my rifle from my saddle-horn when I saw, upon my return, that you had parted, and he was coming toward where I stood. Seeing that I could use my lasso, I did so."
"And I heard his cry when taken, saw that a soldier had him, and returned to tell you that he was not a foe."
"And yet you implied a while since that you had told a falsehood?"
"I said that I had, and I did."
"That is strange. But it is a woman's way, I suppose, which no man need try to fathom."
"That is severe, not gallant, Lieutenant Kit Carey;but I see that you misunderstand me wholly, so I will explain, if you will believe me."
"Will you tell me the truth this time?"
"Yes."
"No losing the trail?"
"Honest Injun, no!" she said, with a bright smile that lighted up her face wondrously.
But instantly a shadow came upon it, and she said, seriously:
"I told you a story because I wished to save Red Hatchet, and I will tell you why, though thus far it has been a secret to all save four persons."
"And they are——"
"First, Red Hatchet and myself, afterward my father and my brother were let in the secret; but now you shall know it."
"I feel honored."
"Do not be sarcastic with me, Lieutenant Carey, for I do not deserve it."
"Pardon me."
"I will do so, if you will drop sarcasm, and be as sincere as I intend to be with you."
"I promise."
"Then you shall know just why I wished to save Red Hatchet from death, and you shall know—my secret," and the cloud that came upon the lovely face as she uttered the words drove all the sunshine away.
THE SECRET.
The lights and shades of the young girl's face, as thoughts flashed through her brain and words fell from her lips, Kit Carey had particularly observed.
He made no reply to the last assertion, that he should know her secret, but waited with the calm patience of an Indian.
"It was two years ago," she at last said, "that I was ambushed on a trail near home, and we will pass the spot to-day. My horse was brought down by a shot, I fell, though unhurt, and as three Indians rushed upon me I managed to fire upon them with my revolver. One fell dead, and——"
"Ah! you were plucky."
"I was acting in self-defence; but the other two seized me, and what my fate would have been, Heaven only knows, had not a Sioux chief come to my rescue. He was wounded, but killed my two foes, and then told me that the three ambushers were bad young men of his tribe. He told me that his people would avenge their deaths upon the whites, and the secret must be kept."
"He was wise."
"Yes, and he buried those bodies, wounded as he was, where no one has ever found them, and his people regard them as renegades from the tribe to-day. He brought my saddle and bridle that night to my home, and thenwent his way, and for weeks was laid up with his wounds. That chief was Red Hatchet, Lieutenant Carey."
"He had some strong motive for keeping the secret from his people?"
"Yes, he said that it was his love for me, and that there were men of his tribe who would seek revenge upon me."
"Very true, and upon himself, for killing them to protect you."
"I had not thought of that, yet it is so. But I told my father, and he told my brother; but otherwise the secret has been kept."
"And the Red Hatchet?"
"Has haunted my life ever since, and though I have told him I could hold no love for an Indian other than friendly regard, it has had no effect. To-day he bade me meet him, where you saw us, if I had any regard for my people. I obeyed, not daring to refuse, and then he told me that unless I became his wife he would turn the young warriors of his tribe loose upon the settlements. He it was who told me that you had killed Sitting Bull——"
"I had killed him?"
"Yes, so he said, and that he had attempted his rescue, but failed. I put him off with a promise to give him an answer within one week, and intended to ride to the quarters of General Carr and tell him the situation exactly. I dared not refuse."
"It was wise in you, Miss Bernard, to do so, and yet when I had him in my power you were the cause of his going free."
"Let me see if I can make clear to you my feelings about that. The Indian loves me, and that I could nothold against him. Then he it was who saved me from those bad warriors, at the risk of his own life, and for which he suffered greatly. That debt I could cancel in but one way, and to clear it utterly from my conscience I rode back to tell his captor that he was the friend, not the foe of the whites, for so he had ever appeared to be until his terrible threat to-day. Had I not said that he was not the leader of the redskin rescuers of Sitting Bull, you would still have held him prisoner, and if harm befell him it would have been through me. Thus it was that I told the falsehood, the double falsehood, in fact, about him, for I wished not his life upon my hands. Now that I have done my duty toward him, cancelled the debt of deep gratitude I owed him for his service to me, I tell you the secret, and of his dire threat of vengeance. Have I made myself fully understood, Lieutenant Kit Carey?"
"Fully, Miss Bernard."
"Then I shift all responsibility I hold to your broad shoulders," she said, with a smile.
"I accept the load, and wish now to beg your pardon for having misunderstood you as I did, for I will candidly confess that I believed that you were in love with your Indian lover."
She started, her eyes flashed fire, but when Kit Carey expected an angry response, she said, calmly:
"I cannot blame you, sir, under the circumstances, for my words implied as much. But here is the spot where I was ambushed two years ago, and those whitened bones you see are those of my poor horse, Dandy, whom I loved more dearly than I ever yet have learned to love a man," and she cast a quick, searching glance into the face ofthe handsome officer, whose deeds of daring and strange history were the talk around many a border hearth-stone and camp-fire.
What Jennie Bernard had told Kit was a cause of great uneasiness to him, for he knew that the Red Hatchet wielded immense influence with the young braves of his tribe, and was fermenting trouble, hoping to win fame for himself, for there is a wondrous amount of ambition, conceit, and pride in an Indian's nature, equal to that among some of our own pale-face warriors.
A week he might wait, to keep his faith with the young girl, whose gratitude to him he had mistaken for love; but then if aught occurred to precipitate trouble between the Indians and the settlers or soldiers, Red Hatchet would at once act without regard to the time given the girl.
"Miss Bernard, your father must at once leave his home, going to the nearest point with his family and belongings where protection is assured," said Kit.
"It should be so, Lieutenant Carey; but my father will never leave his home," she answered, in a decided way.
"He must."
"But he never will, for he says that the Sioux will never harm him or those belonging to him," was the surprising answer of Jennie Bernard.
THE REFUSAL.
The determined manner in which Jennie Bernard asserted that her father would not remove from his home, and that no Sioux would harm him or his family, surprised Kit Carey immensely.
"May I ask, Miss Bernard, what influence your father holds over the Sioux that he believes he can thus wield them to his will?"
"I only know, sir, that he regards the Indians as his friends, and they look upon him in the same light," was the answer.
"Yet you were not exempt from an attack from them?"
"That is true, yet they were not the representatives of the band."
"Miss Bernard, when an Indian has his war-paint on he is sullen and ferocious, and knows no friendships. Treachery is a virtue in his eyes, gratitude is forgotten, and a scalp of a pale-face, whether it be from an infant, woman, or soldier, is a prize that a redskin will risk his life to obtain. They are as merciless as they are cruel, and if they do not kill their victim he is saved for torture. I know the Indians well, and I tell you plainly you must not trust Red Hatchet, for his intelligence, and having seen considerable of the world away from his people, but renders him the more dangerous. He will destroyyour home, kill your parents, and bear you into captivity. Your father must not linger here a day."
Kit Carey spoke with deep earnestness, and Jennie Bernard stretched out her hand, and said, in her frank way:
"I thank you; but I fear he will refuse to go. Here is our home." And she pointed to the log cabin that just then came into view.
It was a succession of cabins rather than one, surrounded by large outbuildings, all neatly whitewashed and fenced in.
A brook ran near, there was a grove of trees, pines predominating, and the spot was a cheery one, the home most inviting.
It was just sunset, and Settler Vance Bernard was pacing up and down the piazza smoking a handsomely carved pipe.
He started as he beheld his daughter's approach, accompanied by an officer, and uttered, in a sullen tone:
"Why has he come here? Ha! it is Kit Carey!"
The man's manner was that of one who was to receive an unwelcome guest.
But as Kit Carey aided Jennie to alight, and the two came upon the piazza, the settler said, pleasantly:
"I was anxious about you, my child, for I knew not that you had a gallant escort."
"A gallant escort, indeed, father. Allow me to present Lieutenant Kit Carey, of whom we have heard so much?"
"Lieutenant Carey, indeed! Can it be possible that I have the honor of welcoming to my home the hero of Fort——?" Vance Bernard extended his hand mostcordially, yet with no show of having ever before met the young officer.
Kit Carey was pleased with his cordial reception, and asked:
"Have we not met before, Mr. Bernard?"
"It may be that we have, sir, though I cannot recall the circumstance."
"It is a fancied resemblance then, sir, to some one I have met, though to whom I do not now recall. You have a lovely home here, Mr. Bernard, for the border."
"Yes, I have endeavored to make it a most comfortable home; but let me show you to your room, Lieutenant Carey, for supper will soon be ready."
Having taken the officer to the very pleasant guest-chamber in the Bernard home, the host went off in search of his daughter, his face again becoming moody, almost to sullenness.
Jennie was just leaving her room, having changed her riding habit for a pretty, though simple dress, and her father asked quickly, and in a stern tone:
"Jennie, where did you pick that man up?"
"Why, father, are you angry because I brought Lieutenant Carey home with me?"
His manner changed, and he said:
"Angry? No! but if officers of the army come this near the Indian line trouble will follow surely."
"That is just what Lieutenant Carey says, that the Sioux are preparing to strike a terrible blow against the whites, and that you must at once leave home with all of us."
"I shall do no such thing, for I will not be harmed bythem; but come, let us join the lieutenant and go into supper."
Kit Carey found in Mrs. Bernard a woman of refined appearance and cultivated manners, but the moment he laid eyes upon Herbert Bernard he did not like him, and the feeling seemed mutual, for the young settler accused the army of being the cause of all the Indian troubles, and was, at times, almost insulting in his words and manner toward the officer, who, however, appeared not to notice it.
No reference was made before the mother and son of the meeting of Kit Carey and Jennie in the presence of Red Hatchet, for the young girl had merely referred to having met the lieutenant on the trail, and had him return home with her.
But that night before retiring, when Mrs. Bernard had gone to her room, and Herbert had departed to look after his horses, Kit Carey told the settler of his capture and release of Red Hatchet, while Jennie made known to her father the threat he had made.
"The Sioux is a fool to think you would be his wife, Jennie; but he will not carry out his threat, depend upon it, and even if there is a war I will not be disturbed here in my home."
"May I ask what your reason is for believing that you and yours will be spared, Mr. Bernard, when others will suffer?" asked Kit Carey.
"Simply, sir, that my kindness to the Sioux in the past has made them my friends for all time."
"An Indian's friendship, sir, is as brittle as glass, and I beg that you will reconsider your determination toremain here when so much is at stake, and depart on the morrow with your family and belongings."
"I shall remain, sir."
"You are taking desperate chances, I assure you, in refusing to go."
"Still I do refuse," was the firm reply.
Kit Carey said no more upon the subject, for he saw that it fretted his host to urge him against his decision to remain.
KIT CAREY ON HIS ROUNDS.
After a very early breakfast Kit Carey mounted his horse, and rode away from the cabin of Vance Bernard.
He had thanked his host and hostess for their kind hospitality, and urged upon Mrs. Bernard to appeal to her husband to at once leave their home for a place of safety.
"Many have done so who could not afford it by any means, for they left their all to destruction, and Mr. Bernard should not risk the lives of those he loves to stay here," said the officer.
And from Mrs. Bernard came the calm rejoinder that they did not care to desert their home, for then all would be destroyed, while they held not the slightest dread of the Sioux.
"Blind fools!" came from between the teeth of the soldier, and in saying farewell to Jennie he again urged the necessity of getting her parents to depart.
"Father is determined to remain, and his word is my mother's law," was the reply.
"Has your brother no influence with your father?"
"He, too, urges that we remain, for he has perfect confidence in the Indians," was the reply, and Kit Carey could not but observe the look of sadness that came over the lovely face of this young girl, hidden away upon the frontier, almost within the very camps of the Indians.
It was with a feeling of deep regret and a foreboding of evil that hebade her good-by, and rode away from the cabin home.
"Well, that is the strangest household I ever saw," he mused, as he rode along. "That man Bernard is a mystery, for he has seen better days, and he's educated and well informed. He has money, and yet is willing to remain here, hiding his wife, child, and son in a wilderness. His wife is a lady, yet blindly follows his will. His son is of a morose nature, and better suited to this wild life than any of them. But the girl? There's the rub, for she has it in her to reign as a belle in a New York salon. She has been well educated by her parents I cannot but admit. Yet, she is as wild as a deer, too, for she goes about the country like an Indian, ropes cattle as only a cowboy can, runs like a Comanche, and is not only armed, but can use her weapons. I am so glad to find I was all wrong about my belief that she loved that Red Hatchet; but her protection of him deceived me. But must this beautiful girl be left to the mercy of these red fiends, for between the Bernard home and the Bad Lands, where lie thousands of Indians, there is no barrier. No, I will do all I can to protect them, as the stubbornness of Bernard will not allow him to save himself and family."
The night's rest and good food had refreshed both himself and horse, and he soon went at a more rapid pace, until he reached a position about on a line with his encircling Indian scouts.
Then he branched off to the left, and kept up the same pace for miles.
At last he came to a secure hiding-place, and here he found one of his squads of Indian cavalry.[2]
They were seven in number, had kept themselves thoroughly in hiding, except that by night two of their number had been off on a scout to the Bad Lands.
They had discovered that the hostiles were entrenched upon a high plateau, to which only a few passes led, and which they had fortified.
The force of the hostiles they could not get an estimate of.
Kit Carey sat down, and wrote a note to the nearest commanding officer of the military forces marching forward to hem the Sioux in, and stated what he had done with his Indian police, about where the different squads were stationed, and that he would report any move of the hostiles.
He also made known the fact that a settler, Vance Bernard, had refused to leave his home, and had within easy reach of the Indians, should they make a raid upon him, all that could tempt them to pillage and destroy, a well furnished house, filled store-rooms, grain, horses and cattle, while his wife, daughter, and son, comprised the household.
"It might be well," the letter continued, "to send an officer and force to remove Settler Bernard and his family from their home, thus preventing a tragedy which will be sure to follow their remaining there, or, at least, to send a troop to camp upon the place."
Having written this Kit Carey felt that he had done all he could to force Vance Bernard from the danger his stubbornness kept him in.
Kit determined to place his own men in a position, just between the settler's home and the hostiles' retreat, and to draw from the different squads several men, so as to enlarge the party that could, at least, serve as a small barrier to the Sioux making a raid in that direction.
Sending his courier off with his report, Kit ordered the others to a suitable point, which he had observed on his ride there, and then started for his next post.
This was reached in a couple of hours, and two men were sent to reinforce the squad that was encamped between the Bad Lands and the Bernard home.
The third squad was next visited, and from this, too, men were drawn for the party nearest the Bernard ranch, and the news gleaned by his scouts here caused another courier to be dispatched to Colonel Forsythe's command.
This Indian courier bore the information that the Sioux chief, Big Foot, with his band, were encamped on Wounded Knee Creek, and expecting to remain there as an advance post of the hostiles, unless driven on into the main retreat in the Bad Lands.
The report ended with the words:
"I shall take two Indian scouts with me to-night, and send a more definite report of Big Foot's intention, if I can discover it, and the possibility of surrounding him before he can join the others, or do any mischief."
The courier departed for the command of Colonel Forsythe, the three men selected went off to join the squad near the Bernard ranch, and Kit Carey and a couple of his Indian scouts went off toward Wounded Knee Creek, leaving but three of the redskin guards on duty at that point to watch the hostiles.
[2]Called irregular cavalry in the army.
[2]Called irregular cavalry in the army.
THE OFFICER-SPY.
Kit Carey knew Big Foot, the Sioux chief, as a brave, cunning, and dangerous man, and one whose influence was great among the different tribes.
Colonel Forsythe, he knew, was watching him, but would the soldiers be able to surround the Sioux leader and force his surrender before aid came from the hostiles in the Bad Lands, was a question hard to answer.
Still he was well aware that there was no better officer in the service than Colonel Forsythe, and if not hampered by orders from Washington,[3]he would accomplish all that the commanding general in the field expected of him.
On his way to scout around the band of Chief Big Foot, Kit Carey visited a fourth squad of his Indian scouts, and the largest one in point of numbers.
He sent four redskins from there to the band near the Bernard ranch, and dispatched two couriers, one to General Carr's command, another to General Brooke, witha full report of the situation as he had thus far discovered it.
In his report he stated:
"From what I can learn from my Indian scouts, old Chief Red Cloud is forced to remain among the hostiles, and there is some trouble between the Ogallalas and Brules. The following chiefs are known to be among the hostiles: Kicking Bear, Short Bull, High Hawk, Turning Hawk, and Little Wound, the last most dangerous of all. My Indian cavalry nearly surround the hostiles' camp, for I have seven squads of men in hiding, with a couple of men from each scouting by day and night. Each squad has orders to send couriers at once with any information of reinforcements of the hostiles, or movements of raiding bands. I go now toward the advanced camp of Chief Big Foot, whom Colonel Forsythe is moving against. If Big Foot's band is not plotting mischief I shall be surprised."
Written in duplicate on copying-paper, these reports were dispatched with all haste, and, scouting his way as he went, Kit Carey moved toward Wounded Knee Creek, where Big Foot's band were camped.
It was perilous and tedious work for the daring officer and the two Indian scouts who accompanied him; but he at last reached the vicinity of the Indian camp, and, unfolding his blanket, proceeded to carefully "make up."
In other words, the daring soldier intended to "play Injun," and get at the bottom facts of the situation.
His Indian scouts shook their heads dubiously as he progressed with his toilet, but aided him all in their power.
His handsome mustache was first sacrificed, and his face clean shaven.
Next came the coloring of the skin, face, neck, hands, and arms to the elbows.
The war-paint followed, with a wig of long, black hair, the head-dress and war-bonnet, buckskin suit of hunting-shirt, leggings, and moccasins.
The "ghost shirt[4]" was next put on, and last the never-failing blanket.
If any one could then detect the dashing, handsome Lieutenant Kit Carey of the Seventh, beneath the paint, feathers, and make-up of an Indian chief, a keen eye he would have, indeed.
Thus accoutred for the work Kit Carey left the two Indians in camp with his horse, and started forth upon his mission of danger, for he had determined to know just how matters stood with Big Foot and his band.
The camp of the Sioux was on a level strip of ground, along the banks of a ravine some fifteen feet deep, and from fifty to a hundred feet in width.
The tepees of the Indians extended along the banks of the ravine for several hundred yards, and were formed in the shape of a crescent.
To reach the camp from the rear, by way of the ravine, Kit Carey found it no easy task; but it was accomplished, and at last he glided into the midst of the hostile band.
Dressed as he was, and it being night, he did not fear detection, for he spoke the Sioux tongue perfectly.
Then, too, his walk, movements, and appearance was that of a Sioux chief.
His greatest danger lay in not being recognized, but this he intended to overcome by claiming to be a Sioux chief, long absent from the tribe, and giving the name of a chief whom he knew to have been killed near Fort F—— some months before, and whose fate was not known.
There were a few camp-fires, with groups of bucks, squaws, and children, about them, and one apart, where only warriors were seen.
Indians were moving to and fro, and it was very evident to the officer that some move of importance was about to be undertaken.
Folding his blanket closely about him he lay down in the shadow of a tepee, and watched and listened, for he was within hearing of the voices of the warriors about the fire, where no squaws or children were allowed.
Several had spoken to him, but with a grunt he had passed on, and thrown himself down near the tepee.
The light of the fire shone upon the faces of the Indians on the other side from where he lay, and one face he recognized at a glance.
It was the Chief Red Hatchet, and he was talking to the others in an earnest, vindictive tone.
A few words that he said reached the ears of the officer-spy, and he at once arose, glided away among the tepees, dropped down into the ravine unseen, and made his way rapidly back to his camp.
His Indian scouts were on the alert, and the three were soon flanking the camp at Wounded Knee and riding rapidly in the direction in which Colonel Forsythe's command was expected to approach.
It was just before dawn that the sound of many hoofsfell upon his ears, and he drew rein to await the approach of the command, for he knew that the splendid Seventh Cavalry were on the march.
"Now, Chief Big Foot, you will never carry out the plan Chief Red Hatchet has decided upon, for the avengers of the brave Custer are hot on your trail."
Soon after the soldiers came in sight, and then Kit Carey hailed:
"Ho, the Seventh Cavalry!"
Instantly a halt was ordered, carbines clicked, and a stern order came:
"Advance and report yourself, sir!"
To the surprise of the advance guard three horsemen rode forward in the darkness, who appeared to be Indians.
"I am Lieutenant Carey of the Seventh, in disguise, and desire to see Colonel Forsythe," was the startling response of the supposed Indian chief, as he rode forward toward his regiment.
The men could hardly be kept from cheering when the gallant Carey appeared in the disguise of an Indian chief, for it told them that he had just come from some daring venture, for which he was famous.
"Ah! Carey, it is you in the guise of a Sioux chief?" cried Captain Wallace of K troop, riding forward and grasping his hand. "It is dangerous work for you, Lieutenant Carey, to ride upon the Seventh Cavalry rigged out as a Sioux chief in full war-paint."
"I joined the Sioux, Captain Wallace, to learn what Big Foot and his band were up to, and I have news for Colonel Forsythe," was Kit Carey's response.
"Then I will keep my advance guard at a halt andride back with you, Carey, to the colonel," responded Captain Wallace, who little dreamed how close to him the Angel of Death was hovering, though had he known his fate, so soon to follow, the brave soldier would not have hesitated an instant in his duty.[5]
So back along the column of troopers they went in the early dawn, the soldiers supposing that the captain was taking in a Sioux chief prisoner, whom the two Indian police had captured.
Colonel Forsythe was soon found, and Captain Wallace said in his pleasant way:
"I do not bring you a Sioux prisoner, colonel, but Lieutenant Kit Carey."
"Lieutenant Carey! who would have ever suspected you of being other than a Sioux chief?" cried Colonel Forsythe, as Captain Wallace rode up to the commander of the troops.