The Roswell daily record. [volume] (Roswell, N.M.) 1903-current, 1907-09-03
CHAPTER X
The Old Regiment.

BY the time Hampton swung up the
cou1ee, he had dismissed from his at
tention everything but b business
that had brought hin there. He ex-
perienced no fear, no premonttion of
coming disaster, yet the reawakencd
plainsman in him kept him sufficient
ly wary and cautious. He possessed
a soldiers proud confidence in his reg
iment-the s~upposition hat the old
fighting Seventh could be defeated was
impossible; the Indian did not ride
those uplands who could do the deed!
Then there came to him a nameless
dread, that instructive shrinking
which a proud, sensitive man must
ever feel at having to face his old
companions with the shadow of a
crime between. In his memory he
saw once more a low-ceilfnged room,
having a table extending down the
center, with grave-faced men dressed
in the full uniform of the service,
looking at him amid a silence like
unto death; and at the head sat a
man with long fair hair and NUS
tache, his proud eyes never to be for
gotten. Now, after silent years, he
was going to look into those accus-
Ing eyes dSdIH- ne pressed his
hand against his forehead, his body
trembled; then he braced himself for
the interview, and the shuddering cow
ard in him shrank back.
Away to the left something was
moving, a dim, shapeless dash Of
color. 1t might be Benteen, but Of
Reno's columns he could perceive
nothing, nor anything of Clusters ex-
cepting that broad track across the
prairies marked by his horses hoofs.
This track Hampton followed, press
ing his fresh mount to increased
speed, confident that no Indian spies
would be lettering SO closely in the
rear of that body of cavalry, and be-
coming fearful lest the attack should
occur before he could arrive.
He dipped over a sharp ridge and
came suddenly upon the rear guard.
They were a little squad of dusty,
brown-faced troopers, who instantly
wheeled into line at sound of ap-
preaching hoofs, the barrels If their
lowered carbines glistening in the sun.
With a swing of the hand and a
hoarse shout of Dispatcher" he was
beyond them, bending low over his
saddle pommel, his eyes on the dust
cloud of the moving column. The
extended line of horsemen, riding in
columns of four, came to a sudden
halt, and he raced on. A little squad
of officers, several of their number
d~ismounted, were out in front, stand
ing grouped just beyond the summit
of a slight elevation, apparently look
ing off into the valley through some
cleft in the bluff beyond. Standing
among these, Hampton perceived the
long fair hair, n the erect figure
clad in the well known frontier cos
tune, of the man he sought-ths
proud. dashing leader Of light cav
airy, that beau ideal of the sabreur,
the one he dreaded most, the one he
loved best-Custer. The commander
stood, field-g1asses in hand, pointing
down into the valley. and the dispatch
bearer. reignfng in his horse, his lips
white but ~resolute, trotted straight up
the slope toward him. Custer wheel.
ed, annoyed at the interruption, and
Hampton swung down from the sad
die, his rein flung across his arm, look
q single step forward. lifting his hand
In salute, and held forth the scaled
packet
dispatches, sir" he said. simply,
standing motionless as a statue
The commander, barely glancing
toward him, instantly tore open b
long ofhcial envelope and ran his eyes
oper the dispatch amid O hush in the
conversation
(Tc Be Continued.