George at the Fort Part 16

"You had good reason to be alarmed, and this is not a matter to be dropped with an 'ah!' and an 'oh!' and a 'humph!' You are in great danger, if you only knew it. Those buffaloes are stampeded, and will not stop until they are all out of breath."

"Well, if they don't want to stop, let them run," said Bob. "Who cares?

They don't owe us anything. They will of course turn aside when they see us."

"But they will not see you unless you do something to attract their attention," exclaimed George impatiently. "They will be in among us in five minutes more, and men and horses will be trampled into the ground like blades of gra.s.s. Wake up and do something, can't you? The safety of the camp depends upon you, and if you don't move, I will."

"Great Moses!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bob. He was thoroughly aroused by the earnest words of his companion, but having never been placed in a situation like this before, he did not know how to act. "You don't mean that--I never heard of--"

"Yes, I do mean that they will trample the whole camp to death unless you prevent it; and I don't care whether you ever heard of such a thing being done or not," cried George, seizing the corporal by the arm and shaking him as if he wanted to put a little energy into him.

"But what shall I do? Shall I order up the reserve and get the horses out of the way?"

"You haven't got time to get them out of the way. The buffaloes will be upon us before you could take half a dozen of them to a place of safety.

Arouse the camp the first thing, and then call up a few good men to go out and split the herd the moment it comes in sight."

Bob, who was still in the dark, was about to ask how he should go to work to "split" the herd after he had selected the men, but George did not give him the opportunity. The rumbling of the approaching hoofs grew louder and louder, and every moment was precious. It sounded before them and to the right and left of them, indicating that the herd was an immense one, and that it was advancing with a front broad enough to overwhelm the entire camp. Knowing that no more time could be wasted in debating the matter, George unslung his Winchester and fired two shots into the air. The effect was almost magical. The camp, which had been so quiet a second before, was aroused into instant life and activity. Loud cries of "Indians!" and "Fall in!" arose on the still air, followed by blasts from the bugle and stern notes of command. The officer of the guard was promptly on the ground, and to him Bob reported that a herd of stampeded buffaloes was bearing down upon them. The announcement startled the lieutenant, but he acted with the greatest coolness. As fast as the men came up he ordered them back to take care of the horses--all except a dozen or so of the best soldiers known to him, whom he ordered to follow him. By the time he had taken up his position, which was on a little rise of ground about fifty yards from post No. 7, Captain Clinton came up. Taking in at a glance the arrangements which his subordinate had made to avert the terrible danger that threatened the camp, he left him and his picked men to carry out those arrangements or perish in the attempt, while he hastened back to see that the horses were well secured.

"Steady!" commanded Lieutenant Earle, speaking in his loudest tones, in order to make his voice heard above the roar of the threatening hoofs, which sounded like the noise made by an approaching hurricane. "We are here to conquer or die. If we don't split that herd they will trample us out of sight in the ground. We can do it if we are only cool enough to hold our position. Don't fire until I give the word, and then put in the shots as rapidly as you know how."

Bob's hair fairly stood on end, and not even the calm bearing of George Ackerman, who was constantly by his side and who knew their danger better than he did, or the lieutenant's a.s.surance that the herd could be split if they did their full duty, could relieve Bob's mind of the positive conviction that he and his comrades were doomed to certain and speedy death. But his courage never faltered, and to show that he did not intend to allow himself to be outdone in steadiness even by a shoulder-strap, he walked up and kneeling beside his officer (the men in the front rank were all kneeling, so that those in the rear rank could shoot over their heads) waited for the order to fire.

Nearer came the terror-stricken buffaloes, louder grew the thunder of their hoofs, and, as if to add to the horror of the situation and to test the courage of the lieutenant and his devoted little band to the very utmost, the horses behind them began to grow unmanageable from fright and to struggle desperately to escape from their fastenings.

At length, after a few moments of dreadful suspense, the time for action arrived. A rapidly-moving ma.s.s, which was plainly visible, owing to the fact that it was blacker than the darkness of the night, burst into view and bore down upon the camp and its little band of defenders. So loud was the noise made by their hoofs at this moment that the troopers did not hear the order to fire, which the lieutenant shouted out with all the power of his lungs; but they saw the flash of his revolver, and lost no time in opening a hot fire upon that portion of the herd which was directly in front of them. To Bob it seemed that the rapid discharges of their breech-loaders had no effect whatever. The black ma.s.s before him was as black and as dense, apparently, as it was when he first saw it, but, strange to say, instead of plunging upon him and his companions and trampling them out of all semblance to humanity, it seemed to remain stationary, although the deafening roar of those countless hoofs told him that the frantic herd had not in the least slackened its pace. In fact, his eyes and ears seemed to have suddenly become at "outs," for they did not endorse each other as they usually did. His eyes told him that his carbine was fired rapidly, for they showed him the flashes that followed the pulling of the trigger; but his ears took no note of the fact, for he could not hear the faintest report. The reason for this was, that the herd, having been split in two by the first volley, was moving by on each side of them with a roar and a rush that would have drowned the discharge of a section of artillery.

How long the buffaloes were in pa.s.sing Bob never knew, for he took no note of time. It was probably not more than two or three minutes, but during that brief period he pa.s.sed through an ordeal that he never could think of afterward without feeling the cold chills creep all over him.

But he did not flinch, and neither did his companions. When the last of the buffaloes pa.s.sed to the right and left of them, and the lieutenant jumped up and stretched his arms and legs as if to a.s.sure himself that he had not been stepped on anywhere, he found that not one of his men had moved from his place. The front rank was still kneeling, the rear rank was standing, and they were both as well aligned as they were before the firing commenced.

After ordering the front rank to rise, and bestowing upon them all a few hearty words of commendation, the lieutenant marched his men back to the camp, where they found some of their companions under arms, and the rest engaged in bringing in the horses and making them fast to the stable-lines. The animals were in such a state of alarm, and showed so strong a desire to run off with the retreating buffaloes, that Captain Clinton thought it advisable to put a strong guard over them for the rest of the night, with instructions to examine their fastenings every few minutes. When this guard had been detailed and the sentries had been changed, the rest of the troopers went back to their blankets.

Bob and George were proud of the part they had acted in saving the camp from destruction, and consequently when they spread their blankets beside one of the fires they were somewhat provoked to hear the man who was piling fresh fuel upon it attribute their narrow escape to "luck."

But still there was nothing very surprising in this, for it not infrequently happens that a soldier stationed in one end of a camp does not know what is going on in the other end of it, especially in times of excitement. The same thing happens in a fight. A soldier may be able to give a clear statement of the part his company took in it, but he knows nothing of the general plan of the battle or of the number of the killed, wounded, captured or missing, until he has had time to talk the matter over with his comrades or to read a published account of it.

During the war it was a common saying among the soldiers in the field that they never knew anything about the fights they had been in until they saw the papers.

"I have been on the Plains nearly three years," said the trooper who was punching up the fire, "and that was the first time I ever saw a herd of stampeded buffaloes."

"I never saw one," said another trooper. "I heard this one, but my horse kept me so busy that I couldn't take time to look at it."

"I had a fair view of it," said the one who had first spoken. "My horse was quiet enough after I got the bit between his teeth, so that I could manage him, and I stood up there by that farther fire and took it all in. I tell you, it was a sight!--a regular cataract of buffaloes a hundred feet wide, tumbling over a bank twenty feet high. I have always heard that when buffaloes become frightened and get to running they turn aside for nothing; but this night's experience gives the lie to all such stories, don't it? When they saw our camp they turned to the right and left, and crossed the stream above and below us, and never did us the least damage. Luck was on our side, wasn't it?"

"'Luck'!" repeated Bob in a tone of disgust; "I guess not. There were about a dozen men, of whom George Ackerman and I made two, who stood between you fellows and certain death. If we hadn't held our ground as if we had grown there, there wouldn't have been one of you left to tell the story of this night's work."

The troopers lying about the fire were greatly astonished at these words, and called for an immediate explanation. Bob told the story in a few words, adding, as he directed the attention of his auditors to George Ackerman, who was lying at his ease on his blanket,

"There's the fellow you have to thank for your 'luck.' Sprague heard them coming, and so did I after he called me out to his post, but we didn't know what it was until Ackerman told us. He was the one who alarmed the camp. I know I did something toward splitting that herd, for I could see the fire come out of my carbine and my cartridge-box is empty, but I never heard a report. I didn't hear anything but the thunder of those hoofs, and I shall hear it to my dying day."

"I wonder what started them?" said one of the troopers, after he and his companions had asked a few questions concerning the behavior of the various members of the squad. "Indians?"

"Probably they did," answered a sergeant, who just then came up to the fire to light his pipe, being unable to go to sleep until he had taken a smoke to quiet his nerves.

"Probably the Indians had nothing to do with it," said George. "Don't you know that a herd of buffaloes will feed within a mile or two of an Indian camp for days at a time, while half a dozen white men would scare them out of the country in less than an hour? Well, it's a fact."

"What is the reason for it?" asked Bob.

"The reason is to be found in the different modes of hunting them. The Indian, who depends largely upon them for food and clothing, kills no more of them during a run than the squaws can take care of. He hunts them almost altogether with the bow and arrow, which are not only very effective weapons at short range, but they make no noise to scare away the game. He hunts according to long-established rules, none but the best men in the tribe being permitted to take part in a run, and in this way the game is secured before the buffaloes get frightened enough to break into a stampede. The white man, who hunts princ.i.p.ally for profit, keeps up the killing as long as he can hold the herd within range of his gun. He follows them persistently during the daytime, and at night lies in wait to shoot them as they come to the streams to quench their thirst. A buffalo is a very stupid animal, but, after all, it doesn't take him long to get some things through his head."

"Fresh, purty _fresh_!" murmured a voice.

George looked over his shoulders and saw the scout lying close by on his blanket. He had come up to the fire and arranged his bed without attracting the attention of any one.

"Do you think there is n.o.body in this party who knows anything except yourself?" demanded George.

"Well, no; judgin' by the way you sling your chin, you know it all,"

replied the scout.

"What do you suppose first put this herd in motion?" asked one of the troopers, who had not yet gained all the information he wanted.

"That's a question that n.o.body can answer unless he was on the ground and saw them start," answered George.--"You'll not dispute that, will you, Mose?--Our Texas cattle will often get stampeded by the sight of a little cloud of dust that is suddenly raised by the wind; or some night a careless herdsman may step between them and the fire and throw his shadow upon them; or some of the young and foolish members of a drove will fall to skylarking, and that will frighten the others, and the first thing you know they are all off like the wind. Buffaloes have just as little sense. My herdsman has told me that he has seen hundreds of them, when they were suffering for water, walk into a stream that was literally choked with the bodies of their companions who had been caught in the quicksand."

"Say," growled a drowsy trooper from his blanket, "suppose you boys go somewhere and hire a hall?"

George laughed, and, taking the hint thus delicately thrown out, brought his lecture on buffaloes to a close. The remembrance of the thrilling scene through which he had just pa.s.sed did not keep him awake. On the contrary, sleep came to his eyes almost immediately, and the last sound he heard as he was about to pa.s.s into the land of dreams was the subdued voice of the scout murmuring, "Fresh, very fresh!"

CHAPTER XI.

TELEGRAPHING BY SMOKES.

The camp was aroused at an early hour the next morning, and by the time it was fairly daylight breakfast had been disposed of and the column was again in motion. The firing-squad had brought down a goodly number of buffaloes in their efforts to split the herd--enough to furnish the whole camp with a hearty meal and to enable each trooper to carry two days' cooked rations in his haversack. During the first few miles of their march there was no trail for them to follow, all traces of the thieving Kiowas having been obliterated by the hoofs of the stampeded buffaloes; but this did not interfere with the movements of the scout, who, from the start, led the way at a rapid pace. He knew the general direction in which the trail led, and that was enough for him.

"Where do you think we shall pick it up again?" asked Captain Clinton of George, who rode by his side.

"Do you see that b.u.t.te?" asked George in reply, directing the officer's attention to a single high peak in the distance, which marked the south-eastern boundary of the dreaded Staked Plains. "We shall not see another drop of water until we reach that mountain, and we shall find some traces of the Indians there, if we do not find them before."

"Purty fresh!" exclaimed the scout, who had overheard every word of this conversation.

"Well, if you know better, why don't you say so?" demanded George.

"Every prediction I have made so far has turned out to be correct. Now, see how far I miss it when I tell you that the Indians camped beside that b.u.t.te last night."

"Then we are gaining on them?" said the captain.

"We are," was the boy's confident reply. "And for the reason that we have followed a direct course and ridden rapidly, while the Indians took a roundabout way and moved slowly, being hampered by their stolen cattle."

George's calculations proved to be correct. About three o'clock in the afternoon they again took up the trail, and followed it at a gallop.

They reached the peak just before dark, and found abundant evidence that the Indians had recently camped there. The troopers halted here too to get a little rest and a wink of sleep, but at nine o'clock they were once more on the move. The next halt was made about two in the morning, and at daylight they were again in their saddles and riding ahead as rapidly as ever. The trail led them along the borders of the Staked Plains, giving some of the troopers, who had never before scouted so far in this direction, their first view of that desolate region. A gloomy-looking place it was. As far as their eyes could reach they could see nothing but sandhills, with stunted weeds and clumps of gra.s.s which seemed to be struggling hard to maintain a foothold in the arid soil.