The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-05-26

stirring, and the n1gnt was still as soil
tude itself, not a whisper could be heard
from the direction of the village, not a
spark of fire could be seen. Over against
them on the northern shore were sounds
at times as of rapid hoof beats, muffled bv
the snow. Half a mile out horseman
doomed up at the front, and in moment
was merged in the advancing line.
"Halt, therep' was Rorke's gruff, NUT
tered challenge,at the instant. Rise up.
you, and say who ye are. Oh, it's you, is
it, Pollywog2 Come in from under yer
head an explain what keeps your brother
night owls Wonderfully don't they start,
If ever they're goingT'
Obedient to the order, given in soldier
terms he could not use, yet sufficiently I'M
derstood, an Indian scout-an Arapaho
boy-whose big shock head seemed twice
the size of his lean torso, Strengthened up
from his catlight crouch and came swiftly
toward the two troopers.
big Road going-plenty quickl" he
muttered. "Heap whisky now-Bunco
fetch 'uml"
"Ah, that's what kept him, was it? Run
back, Clancy, and tell the captain he's fired
up, and I'll creep in closer and see if he's
started" So saying the old trooper doubled
up over his huge, moccasined feet and.
carbine in hand, crept stealthily onward
toward the point where last the tepees had
been seen in the dusk, Polywog excitedIv
shutting by his side. For fifty yards or so
| nothing could be heard or seen at the
front, then they came upon dark object
kneeling under stunted cottonwood. close
to the bank of the frozen stream, If was
| one of the Indian troopers and at Rorke's
muttered summons he raised his hand 40
though to caution silence, and again bent
his head attentively.
"Heap whisky was his whispered YER
dict. Pretty soon fight. Listenl"
There were sounds of turmoil in the
Indian ranks-harsh, cultural voices and
much shutting about. Every now and
then the thud of pony hoofs could be heard,
as the nimble little beasts went scurrying
over the snow; then muffled shouts across
the stream in impatient hail and excited
answer. One party of warriors was evil
IDENTIFY on its way, and the rearward men,
bers were striving to induce the laggard5
at the village to come on.
"Bedad," said Rorke, John Barleycorn
has laid some of thin buck blackguards by
the heels already, and they can't rouse 'em
up. Go you in there, Pollywog. They
won't see you this night. There isn't wan
in that gang could tell 'Rapahoe from
raw recruit with six fingers av Bunco Jim's
Jig wather in him. G'wan in, boy. Harass
the inemy all We can, without bringin' on
general engagement-by which name any
kind av fight that's too big for corporal.
Did We find the captain?" he asked, turn
ing suddenly on Clancy, who came
stealthily up from the rear.
"WhIst! he's right here, an Mr.. Ormsby
with him"
Surely enough, crunching through the
snow, making as little noise as they could,
yet stumbling painfully at times, two burly
forms could be seen creeping toward them,
and presently Farwell was near enough to
whisper an inquiry as TO how far the vii
lage was ahead.
mot fifty yards, sorr," said Rorke.
nBut .ye needn't fear to wake 'em, SORT.
There's only wan word what's left of Big
Roads people can understand now, and
that's whisky. It's my belief there's
dozen bucks over there too drunk to ride,
and they've sent all the travois ahead and
don't know how to lug 'em along. They
haven't all the plainscraft in the world,
sorr, and the Twelfth could give 'em line
or two of lesson on that score"
d. the luck!" said Farwell, heartily.
"My orders are not to interfere or to follow
until they're all across the Platte. How
many are holding back there, corporal?"
Faith, | don't know, sorr. but livery
man that's left sees double, and I've told
Pollywog to count 'em. How far back are
the men, soIr?"
They're close at hand now. We moved
forward after getting your message. Listen
to those beggars."
Through the still night air wild,
mournful howl was uplifted from the direc-
ton OF the eo village "A cross betune the
r.
said Rorke. "Bedad, they may talk Sioux
when they're sober, but Irish is the uni
versal language when they're drunk.
Hank till 'em now" Another howl went
up. Somebody was making a speech, and
presently as the orator warmed up to his
subject the sonorous tones rang out over
the frozen valley and came laundering
back from the echoing bluffs.
'That's Big Road himself" muttered
Terry. Hes too crooked the night to see
his own way, but he can steer the others
all the ~ same; what's at he saving, Bis
trooper.
"He says Big Roads village reaches from
the Medicine Bow to the tops of the Big
Horn, and there are not enough white
soldiers or cowboys in the land to take
him. He says he's going to ride with his
six sons and fight Fort Frayne at SUM-
RISE
''Then I'll have time to see the fun"
said Ormsby with a laugh, that had no
mirth in it. my train goes at 8, and l
should hate to miss the entertainment.
I've come out to say good-by to you.
Terry" he continued, as he held forth his
hand to the surprised corporal.
"Shure, Misther Ormsby is not goin' to
lave us-now-wid all the new trouble-and
Miss Ellis down sick?"
"I'm of no use to them, Rorke." said
Ormsby, sadly, as Farwell edged on to the
front as though TO give MIN chance to
talk with this faithful old henchman of
the Farrars. Indeed, I'm getting SUPER
stitious | bring them nothing but i'll luck.
I've never come that it wasn't like some
bird of i'll omen. First it cost them the
blessed old colonel's life, and now that
scapegrace son is brought back into their
world just long enough to reopen all the
old wounds, and the poor mother is bowed
with new shame and sorrow and with new
anxiety since Miss Ellis is down. The
doctors say the danger is past and she will
soon rally. You and Lieutenant Will are
all they need. So take good care of them,
Terry, and of yourself, too, and don't forget
we've had one or two good rides together,
even though can't be with you in this
and-I've left little remembrance for you
with Master Will'-only don't you dare
call him that again.
"Sure, no man in the Twelfth will ever
need a remembrance of Mr.. Ormsby that
saw him the day we jumped Kill Eagle in
the snowstorm, but whisper" he MUIR
INJURED, wistfully, "who's to tell Miss FL
lis? The roses will be slow coming back
to the blessed face av her-whin she finds
ye're gone"
IT. L..