George at the Fort Part 23

When the horses were "colored" at Fort Lamoine the brindles fell to the lot of Lieutenant Earle, as he was the lowest company commander, all the others being captains. This was the troop to which Bob Owens belonged, and, in common with its other members, he had suffered from the practical jokes that had been played upon him by the more fortunate troopers. But of late these jokes were not as frequent as they had formerly been, for the "Brindles" had proved themselves to be the best of soldiers. When their achievements were taken into consideration they led every troop in the garrison. They had gallantly borne their part in every duty they were called on to perform, their non-commissioned officers had invariably been successful when sent out in pursuit of deserters, and now one of them had done something for which the members of his regiment were glad to honor him in the way we have described.

During the rest of Bob's life at Fort Lamoine but little was said about the despised Brindles; but if any trooper _did_ forget himself and make disparaging remarks concerning them or their "ringed, streaked and striped" horses, some listening Brindle would promptly interrupt him with--

"Look here, Bub, we didn't enlist to show ourselves off on dress-parade.

When you Blacks" (or Grays or Chestnuts, as the case might be, the offending trooper being designated by the color of the horses on which his company was mounted) "have followed an Indian trail across the Staked Plains, and been burned up by an August sun, and had your mouths and throats filled so full of sand that you couldn't tell the truth for a whole month, and have surprised a party of hostiles in their camp, and rescued two prisoners alive and unharmed,--when you have done all that, you can talk; until then hold your yawp. That feat has never been accomplished but once in the Department of Texas, and then it was accomplished by _our_ boys, the Brindles of the ----th Cavalry."

Bob and his men were proud of that exploit, and, what was more, they did not mean to be robbed of any of the honor they had won. That was one reason why they wanted to bring Mr. Wentworth and his boys into their mess. They supposed they were going back to the fort with Captain Clinton's command, and they wanted to carry those boys through the gate themselves. But, as it happened, the captain had decided upon something else, and by that decision had unconsciously given Bob's lucky squad of Brindles an opportunity to add to their laurels. We shall see what use they made of it.

CHAPTER XV.

MORE BAD LUCK FOR MR. WENTWORTH.

While Bob and his men were staking out their horses they were besieged by anxious Brindles who wanted to know just where they had been and what they had done during their absence. No incident connected with the experience of their successful comrades was deemed too trivial for their notice. Bob and the rest answered their questions as fast as they were able, and asked a good many in return. They learned that Captain Clinton had fallen in with the stolen cattle about one o'clock that morning, but the Indians they had hoped to find with them were not to be seen. The captain had pursued them so closely that they did not have time to drive the stock into the Staked Plains, to die there of thirst, and neither did they hara.s.s the column, as George said they would. Their force was too small to accomplish anything by it. The captain had spent all the forenoon in gathering up the stock, and it was now feeding on the prairie close by, guarded by a large squad of troopers.

"I'll tell you what's a fact, boys," said one of the Brindles. "This raid must have been a big thing, for just after you left us we struck the trail of a large drove that joined ours, and a little farther on we found another. But they were both older than our own, so the scout said, and the drove we followed was left behind as a sort of bait for us to swallow, while the main herd was driven off."

"Why didn't you go on after the main herd?" asked Bob.

"It would have been of no use. It had too much of a start; and besides, we have already got just as much on our hands as we can attend to. We have been all day gathering up the cattle we have got, and it is just all we can do to hold fast to them. The fellows up there must attend to the rest."

By "the fellows up there" the troopers meant to indicate the cavalry attached to the several posts north of the Staked Plains.

When Bob went back to the captain's head-quarters, George, being a privileged character, went with him. The officer questioned them closely in regard to their movements, took copious notes to a.s.sist him in making out his report to the colonel, and by the time he got through he came to the conclusion that the two young men deserved especial mention for the skill and courage they had exhibited. He rewarded them on the spot by giving them more work to do--some that was not supposed to have any danger in it, but which, nevertheless, gave them an opportunity to show whether the success that had attended them during their last scout was owing to good luck or good management.

"I am more than satisfied, because you have accomplished more than I expected of you," said the captain as he put his note-book into his pocket. "As you will probably have some hard riding to do to-morrow, I will see that you are allowed a good night's rest."

"Are we going back to the fort in the morning, sir?" asked George.

Although Bob was fully as anxious as his companion was to know what the captain meant by saying that he and his squad would probably have some hard riding to do the next day, he never would have dared to ask such a question; and if he had, the officer, if he had made any reply at all, would very likely have told him that he would find out all about it in due time. But he expressed no surprise at George's inquisitiveness.

"_I_ am going back to fort," said he, "but you and the corporal will have to stay and help Mr. Wentworth with the cattle. You will be of more use to him, George, than half a dozen green hands, for you know how to drive stock and can act as instructor to the rest. You know where Holmes's ranche is, I suppose? Well, I shall want the corporal to stay with Mr. Wentworth until he gets there, and then you will have to guide the squad to the fort. If you should happen to meet any raiders on the way, why take them in," added the captain with a smile.--"Corporal, is Carey badly hurt?"

"He grumbles a good deal, sir, but I think it is more from anger than pain."

"Perhaps you had better take a man in his place and let him go to the fort with us, so that the doctor can look at his arm," said the captain.

"I tell you there is nothing like having friends at court," said Bob as he and George walked away. "Until you came among us I didn't know that these officers could be so very friendly and good-natured. Why, George, if I knew the country as well as you do, and could get scout's pay, I would stay in the army all my life. We have got a sort of roving commission now, and I hope we can do something with it before we go back to the fort."

Details for such duties as this which had just been a.s.signed to Corporal Owens are about the only recreations that fall to the lot of a private soldier on the Plains, and they are eagerly sought after. Being almost always commanded by a sergeant or corporal who has proved to the satisfaction of his superiors that he can be trusted, the men never fail to enjoy themselves to the fullest extent. It is a great relief to them to be entirely out of reach of their Argus-eyed officers, who are so prompt to take them to task for the least neglect of duty.

When they reached the place where the Brindles were encamped, they found that Carey had been successful in his mission. He had brought Mr.

Wentworth and his boys back with him, and the troopers were crowded about them listening to Sheldon's account of his experience among the Kiowas.

"Get all you can out of them, boys," exclaimed Bob, "for you will not see them after to-night."

"Why won't we?" asked half a dozen troopers at once.

"Because they are not going to the fort. They are going to Holmes's ranche, wherever that is, and we're going to see them safely there with the stock."

"We? who?"

"Our same old squad--all except Carey."

The owner of that name, whose face had lighted up with pleasure, jumped to his feet with an angry exclamation. "What do you mean by that, corporal?" he demanded.

"It's no fault of mine, Carey," replied Bob. "The captain thinks you had better go to the fort, so that the doctor can look at your wound."

Carey made no reply, but elbowed his way through the crowd and started toward the other end of the camp. In a few minutes he was standing in front of Captain Clinton with his hand to his cap.

"What is it, Carey?" asked that officer after he had returned the salute.

"My respects to you, sir," answered the trooper, "and, if I might take the liberty, I'd like to know why I am to be left behind while the rest of our squad goes off on a picnic with them cattle?"

"Why, you are wounded," said the captain.

"Just a little scratch, sir," protested the trooper. "But even if I had no right arm at all, I could ride and shoot, and when it came to yelling I'd be there too."

"Very good. If you think you can stand it, go on."

"Thank you, sir. I knew you wouldn't go back on old Carey. I've been in every muss my troop has been in, and n.o.body ever hinted that I didn't do my duty."

The captain nodded his head and waved his hand in token of dismissal, and the trooper hurried away.

Up to this time George Ackerman had always messed with the officers, but that night he took supper with Bob's squad, because both he and they considered that he belonged to it. During the progress of the meal he reminded the corporal that the latter had promised to tell him a story.

"Oh yes," said Bob, after thinking a moment. "I was telling you, I believe, that if Mr. Wentworth killed that Indian he would be arrested and tried for murder. Well, that's an Indian's idea of justice, and it seems to be the agents' idea too. The Indians think they have a perfect right to kill and scalp whenever they feel like it, but if a white man kills one of them it is an awful thing. If they can't get hold of the man who did the shooting or any of his relations, they look to the government for pay. On a certain occasion a scouting-party of ten men was surprised and utterly wiped out. The surprise was so complete that every one of the party was killed at the first fire, with the exception of a corporal, who had just time to knock over two of the reds before he too was shot. Shortly afterward a peace was patched up, and a band of braves came in, bringing with them an old woman for whom they asked a government pension because her two sons had fallen in battle. Inquiries were made, and it turned out that these two sons were the very Indians who had been killed by the corporal. What do you think of such impudence?"

George did not know what to think of it, and probably the reader doesn't either; but this very incident is on record.

By daylight the next morning the camp was deserted. The main body of the troops was riding rapidly toward Fort Lamoine, and a few miles behind it came the herd which Captain Clinton had recaptured. It was moving leisurely along in front of Mr. Wentworth and George, who controlled it with less difficulty than the rest of the squad would have experienced in managing a dozen cattle. Behind them came Bob and his men, with the two boys, who were mounted on a couple of their father's horses which had been found with the herd. George's quick eye had already noticed that there were at least half a dozen different brands among the cattle, and he told himself that when the animals bearing these brands had been delivered up to their lawful owners, Mr. Wentworth would have very little stock left.

Bob and his troopers enjoyed this "picnic" by being lazy. They had nothing to do worth speaking of but to follow along in the rear of the herd and talk to the boys, the most of the work being performed by George and Mr. Wentworth, who during the first part of the journey managed the cattle both day and night. They offered to a.s.sist in any way they could, but the practised herders did not need them, and besides, they were afraid to trust them.

"I don't want to lose these steers and horses again, after all the trouble I have had to get them," Mr. Wentworth always replied. "I know you are good soldiers, or else you couldn't have got my boys back for me; but you can't herd cattle. The least awkward movement on your part would send them galloping back toward the Staked Plains again. Wait until they get over their fright, and then you can try your hands at guarding them during the night."

On the afternoon of the fifth day Bob noticed that George's field-gla.s.s was often brought into requisition both by himself and Mr. Wentworth, and on riding forward to inquire the cause of it, he was informed that they were looking for Mr. Taylor's ranche.

"And who is Mr. Taylor?" was Bob's next question.

"He is one of Mr. Wentworth's neighbors who was raided by the Indians.

We know it, for we have some of his cattle with us; but whether or not they did him any damage beyond stealing his stock, we don't know; and we can't tell, either, until we find his house if it is still standing, or the ruins of it if it has been destroyed."

"Then we must be getting pretty near our journey's end," said Bob, whose arms and shoulders began to ache when he thought of the tedious routine of drill and guard-duty upon which he must enter as soon as he returned to the fort.

"I don't know what you mean by _near_," replied George. "The fort is all of a hundred and fifty miles from here, and we are not going toward it.

We are going toward Holmes's ranche; and even if we have the best of luck, it will take us two weeks to get there."