Warren sheaf., 1903-11-12
CHAPTER XIX.

Wnat my duty will demand"
CHAPTER XIX.
The columns of Col. Henry and Mai.
Webb, as said "the chief,'' had united.
and here were two men who could be
counted on to push the pursuit ''for
all they were WORTH Hitherto, act
ing in the open country and free from
encumbrance, the Indians had been
hard to reach. Now they were being
driven into their Businesses among
the mountains toward the distant
shelter whittier their few wounded
had been conveyed, and where the
old men, the women and children
were in hiding. Now it meant that.
unless the troops could be confronted
and thrown back another transfer of
teepes and travois, ponies and dogs,
wounded and aged would have to be
be made. Lame Wolf had thought his
people safe behind the walls of the
Big Horn, and the shifting screen of
warriors along the foothills, but the
blue skirmish lines pushed steadily
on into the fringing pines driving the
feathered braves from ridge to ridge,
and Lame Wolf had sense enough to
see that here we're leaders that
meant business," and would not be
held. Henry had ten veteran troops
at his back when he united with
Webb, who led his own and the Beech
er squadron, making 1s companies, or
troops, of horse, with their pack
mules, all out at the front, while the
wagon train and ambulances were
thoroughly guarded by big battalion
of sturdy infantry, nearly all of them
good marksmen against whose spite
full Springfelds the warriors made
only one essay in force, and that was
more than enough. The blu0oats
emptied many an Indian saddle and
strewed the prairie with ponies, and
sent Whistling Elk and his people to
the right about in sore dismay, and
then it dawned on Lame Wolf that. he
must now either mislead the cavalry
leader, throw him off the track, as it
were, or move the villages, wounded:
prisoners and all, across the Big Horn
river where hereditary foemen, Sho-
welcome them red-handed.
| 1t was at this stage Of the game
he had his final split with Stabber.
Stabber was shrewd, and saw uner-
| ringly that with other columns out,
from Custer on the Little Horn and
| Washakie on the Wind river-with
| reinforcements coming from north
nd ho ~0f La
Sioux in arms would be but matter
Of time. He had done much to get
Lame Wolf into the scrape and now
was urging hateful measures as, un-
less they were prepared for further
and heavier losses, the one way out,
and that was-surrender.
Now, this is almost the last thing.
the Indian will do. Not from fear Of
consequences at the hands Of his cap
tors, for he well knows that physical
ly, he is infinitely better off when
being coddled by Uncle Sam than when
fighting in the field. It is simply the
loss of prestige among his fellow red
men that he hates and breads. There
fore, nothing short Of starvation
or probable annihilation prompts
him, as rule, to yield himself
prisoner. s5asxsy
| And this was the situation when
the generals first dispatches were
sent in to Frayne-this the last news
to reach the garrison from the dis
tant front for five long days, and then
one morning, when the snow was sift-
:ng softly doWn, there came tidings
that thrilled the little community.
heart and soul tidings that were
heard with mingled tears and prayers
and rejoicings, and that led to many a
visit of congratula tion to Mrs. Hay,
| who, poor woman, dare not say at
the moment that she had known it
all as much as 24hours earlier, despite
the fact that Pete and Crapaud were
banished from the roll Of her auxili4
aries. u.
Even as the new couriers came
speeding through the veil of falling
fakes, riding jubilantly over the wide
rolling prairie with their news Of vic
tory and battle, the post commander
at Fort Frayne was pulling over a
missive that had come to him, he
knew not hoW--my steriously as the
anarchists warnings are said to. find
their way to the very bedside Of the
guarded Romanoffs. IAN Sentry Number
4 had picked ittsup on his post an hour
before the daWn--a letter addressed
in bold hand to Maj. Stanley Flint,
commanding Fort Frayne, and, pre-
suming the major himself had
dropped it, he turned it over to the
corporal of his relief, and so it found
its way toward reyeille into the hands
of old McGann, wheeling about his
work Of building fires, and Michael
Laid it on the majors table and
th hnllpht no more about. itt Al t1un