The Princeton union., 1900-10-04
7rIIE PRIS GEToN UNION: THURsD1a OCTOBER " 100.


I RI 81 ET Oh u N ION:
fellows We're vel fused / q wars alarms.
Mrs, Folsom, with staring eyes and.
dreadful anxiety in her face, gazed
only at the hurrying courier, clinging
the while to the pillnr Of the portico,
as though needing support. The smoke
.puffs on the mountain, the dust-cIoud
back Of the tearing rider were symp-
toms enough for Dean. 5
Get in your herd, sergeapt!" /" he
shouted, at the top of his voice; and
over the rushing of the Laramie his
words reached the rousing biyouac,
and saddle blankets were sent swing
ing in air in signal to the distant
guards, and within few seconds every
horse was headed for home; and then,
to the sound of excited voices was add
bounding hoofs, as, all in a dust cloud
Of their own, the sixty chargers came
galloping in, ears erect, eyes ablaze,
nostrils wide, names and tails stream
ing in the blaze, guided by their eager
guards full tilt for camp. Out ran
their riders, brides in hand, to meet
and check them, every horse when
within few yards of his master SEEM
ing to settle on his launches and plow
up the turf in the sudden effort to
check his speed, long months of service
on the plains and in the heart of Indian
land having taught them in times Of
alarm or peril that the quicker they
reached the guiding hand and bore,
each. his soldier on his back. the
quicker would vanish the common foe
Even before the painting steed of the
headlong courier came within hailing
distance of the ranch, half the horses
| in the troop were caught and the bits
were rattling between their teeth; !;
then, as the messenger tore along the
gentle slope that led to the gateway,
his wearied horse laboring painfully
at the rise, Mrs. Folsom recognized one
of her husbands herdsmen, a man who
had lived long years in Wyoming and
could be unnerved by no false alarm,
and her voice went up in shrek of
fear as she read the tidings in his al
most ghastly face.
''Where is Hal?" she screamed. "Oh,
what has happened?"
Hes SAFE" was the answering call,
as the rider waved a reassuring hand,
but at the instant he bent low
''Thank God, you're here, lieutenant" :"
he gasped. Mount quick. Halls cor
rallied two miles out there under the
butte-Sioux!' And then they saw
that he was swooning, that the blood
was streaming down the left thigh and
leg, and before hand could help him,
he rolled senseless, doubled up in the
dust at his horses feet, and the weary
creature never even started.
Saddle up, men!" rang the order
across the stream. And then while
strong arms lifted and bore the wound
ed herdsman to the porch, Dean turned
to the wailing mistress, who, white
faced and terror-stricken, was wiring
ing her hands and moaning and run
| ming wildly up and down the walk and
calling for some one to go and save
| her husband. Dean almost bore her to
chair and bade her fear nothing. He
and his men would lose not a moment
On the floor at her feet lay the little
card photograph. and Dean, hardly
thinking what he did, stopped, picked
it up and placed it in the pocket of his
hunting shirt. just as the trumpeter
on his plunging gray reached the gate,
Deans big, handsome charger trotting
swiftly alongside. In an instant the
lieutenant was in saddle, in another
second trooper galloped up with his
belt and carbine. Already the men
were leading into line across the
stream, and, bidding the trumpeter tell
Sergt. Shaughnessy to follow at speed,
the young officer struck spur to his
horse and, carbine in hand, a single
trooper at his heels, away he darted
down the valley. troop, splashing
through the ford moment later, took
the direct road past the stockade of
the corral, disappeared from sight a
moment behind that wooden fortifca-
| tion and, when next it hove in view, it
was galloping front into line far down
the Laramie, then once more vanished
behind it's curtain of dust.
'Two miles out there under the
BUTTE" was the only indication the
young officer had of the scene of the
fight, for fight he knew it must be-,
and even as he went bounding down
the valley he recalled the story of the
Indian girl, the threats of Burning
Star, the vowed vengeance of her
brothers. Could it be that, taking ad-
vantage of this raid of Red Cloud, far
from all the reservations, far from
possibility of detection by count of pry-
ing agents, the three had induced a
gang of daring, devil-may-care young
warriors to slip away from the Big
Horn with them and, riding stealthily
away from the beaten trails, to ford
the Platte be yond the ken of watch
| full eyes at Fetterman and sneak
| through the mountain range to the
beautiful, fertile valley beyond, and
| there lie in wait for Hal Folsom or for