Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1897-10-06
VOL. 43.
CHAPTER I.

and unsaddled along the grassy banks,
rather slim numbers for the duty to be
performed and with the captain away
too. Not that The men had lack Of conf
dence in Lieutenant Blunt, but it was
practically his first summer at Indian
campaigning, and, however we'll a young
soldier may have studied strategy and
grand tactics at West Point, it is some
thing very different that is needed IN
lighting these wild warriors of our prai-
ries and mountains. Blunt was brave
and spirited they all knew that-but in
point of experience even Trumpeter Fred
was his superior. All along the dusty
trail, for an hour before they reached
the ford, the tracks of the Indian ponies
had been thickly scattered. A war party
of at least 30 had evidently gone trot-
ting down stream not six hours before
the soldiers rode in to water their tired
and thirsty steeds. No comrades were
known to be nearer at hand than the
garrison at Fort Laramie, so long miles
away, or those guarding the post Of
Fort Robinson, right in the heart Of the
Indian country and in the very midst Of
the treacherous tribes along White river.
And vet, under its second lieutenant
and with only 80 frank and file," here
was B troop ordered to bivouac at the
Niobrara crossing, and despite the fact
that all the country was alive with war
parties Of the Sioux to wait there for
further orders
"Only 80 men all told and small
boy" said Sergeant Dawson, who was
forever trying to plague that little
trumpeter. It was by no means fair to
Fred Waller, either, for while he was
somewhat undersized for his 10 years
his carbine and his Colts revolver were
just as big and just as effective as those
of any man in the troop, and he knew
how to use them, no matter how hard
the Springfield kicked. He rode one of
the tallest horses, too, and sat him well
and firmly, Notwithstanding all his fu-
rious plunging and 'buckings" the
day that Dawson slipped the thorny
sprig of wild rosebush under the sad
die blanket.
From the first sergeant down to the
newest recruit all the men had grown
fond of little Fred in that year of rough
scouting and campaigning around old
Red Clouds reservation-all Of them,
that is to say, with the possible excep-
tion Of Dawson, who annoyed him in
many ways when the officers or first
sergeant did not happen to be near, and
who sometimes spoke sneeringly Of him
to such of the troopers as would listen,
but these we're very few in number.
Fred was the only son Of brave old
Sergeant Waller, who had served with
the regiment all over the plains before
the great war of the rebellion, and who
had been its standard bearer in many a
sharp fight and stirring charge in Vir-
ginia. Now he carried two bullet
wounds and on his bronzed cheek a
long white seam, a saber scar, as me-
mentos Of Beverly Ford, Winchester
and Five Forks, and through the efforts
of his war commanders comfortable
berth as ordnance sergeant had been
secured for him at one of the big from
tier posts along the railway. Fred was
the pride of the old soldiers heart, and
nothing would do but that he, too, must
be trooper. The boy was born far out
across the plains in sight of the Chihua-
hua mountains, had followed the regi-
ment in his mothers arms up the val
ley of the Rio Grande to the Albuquer-
que, then eastward along the Indian
haunted Smoky Hill route to Leaven-
worth. When the great war burst upon
the nation, little Fred was just Begin
ming to toddle about the whitewashed
walls of the laundresses' quarters-his
father was Corporal Waller then-and
his baby eyes were big as saucers when
he was carried aboard of a big steam
ship and padded down the muddy
Missouri and around by Cairo and up
the winding Ohio to Cincinnati. He
was even more astonished at the rail-
way cars that bore the soldiers and a
few women and children eastward and
finally landed them at Carlisle. There
at the old cavalry barracks the little
fellow grew to lusty boyhood while his
father was bearing the blue aud gold
standard through battle after battle on
the Virginia soil. And when the war
was over and the regiment was hurried
out to the plains, and again to pro-
tect the settlers, the emigrants and the
railway builders from the ceaseless as
saults of the painted Indians, little Fred
went along, and his soldier education
was fairly begun.
Old Waller was now first sergeant of
B troop. The regimental commander
and most of the officers were greatly in
terested in the laughing, sun tanned,
blue eyed boy, who rode day after day
Oh his wiry Indian pony along the
flanks of the column, scorning, though
barely years old, to stay i'll the wagons
with the women and children. Every
body had jolly word of greeting for
Fred, and kind hearted Captain Blaiue
set his company tailor to work, and
presently there were made for the boy a
natty little cavalry jacket and tiny
pair of yellow chevrons. Corporal Fred
they called him then, and, though he
strove hard not to show it, grim old
Sergeant Waller was evidently Us proud
and pleased as the child. He taught the
little man to "stand attention" and
bring up his chubby brown hand in sa-
Lutte whenever an officer passed by, and
most scrupulously was that salute re-
turned. He early placed the boy under
the instruction Of the veteran chief
trumpeter and mado him practice with