CHAPTER XII
THE ORDEAL BY FIRE
That action had been resolved upon, and prompt action, was now apparent.Stabber, fighting chief though he had been in the past, had had hisreason for opposing the plans of this new and vehement leader; butpublic sentiment, stirred by vehement oratory, had overruled him, and hehad bolted the field convention in a fury. Lame Wolf, a younger chiefthan Stabber, had yet more power among the Ogalallas, being Red Cloud'sfavorite nephew, and among the Indians at least, his acknowledgedrepresentative. Whenever called to account, however, for that nephew'sdeeds, the wary old statesman promptly disavowed them. It was in searchof Lame Wolf, reasoned Ray, that Stabber had sped away, possibly hopingto induce him to call off his followers. It was probably the deeperstrategy of Stabber to oppose no obstacle to Ray's advance until thelittle troop was beyond the Elk Tooth ridge, where, on utterlyshelterless ground, the Indian would have every advantage. He knew Rayof old; knew well that, left to himself, the captain would push on inthe effort to rescue the stage people and he and his command mightpractically be at the mercy of the Sioux, if only the Sioux wouldlisten and be patient. Stabber knew that to attack the troopers nowentrenching at the cottonwoods meant a desperate fight in which theIndians, even if ultimately triumphant, must lose many a valued brave,and that is not the thoroughbred Indian's view of good generalship.Stabber was old, wily and wise. The new chief, whoever he might be,seemed possessed of a mad lust for instant battle, coupled with apossible fear that, unless the golden moment were seized, Ray might bereinforced and could then defy them all. Indeed there were veterancampaigners among the troopers who noted how often the tall red chiefpointed in sweeping gesture back to Moccasin Ridge--troopers who even atthe distance caught and interpreted a few of his words. "That's it,sir," said Winsor, confidently to Ray. "He says 'more soldiers coming,'and--I believe he knows."
At all events he had so convinced his fellows and, even before Stabberreached the middle tooth--where sat a little knot of mounted Indians,signalling apparently to others still some distance to the north,--witha chorus of exultant yells, the long, gaudy, glittering line of bravessuddenly scattered and, lashing away to right and left, dozens of themdarted at top speed to join those already disposed about that bigcircle, while others still, the main body, probably seventy strong,after some barbaric show of circus evolutions about their leader, oncemore reined up for some final injunctions from his lips. Then, with amagnificent gesture of the hand, he waved them on and, accompanied byonly two young riders, rode swiftly away to a little swell of theprairie just out of range of the carbines, and there took his station tosupervise the attack.
"Damn him!" growled old Winsor. "He's no charger like Crazy Horse. He'sa Sitting Bull breed of general--like some we had in Virginia," headded, between his set teeth, but Ray heard and grinned in silentappreciation. "Set your sights and give 'em their first volley as theyreach that scorched line," he called to the men along the northwardfront, and pointed to a stretch of prairie where the dry grass hadlately been burned away. "Five hundred yards will do it. Then aim lowwhen they rush closer in."
"Look at the middle tooth, captain," came the sudden hail from his left."Mirror flashes! See!" It was Field who spoke, and life and vim hadreturned to his voice and color to his face. He was pointing eagerlytoward the highest of the knobs, where, all on a sudden, dazzling littlebeams of light shot forth toward the Indians in the lowlands, tippingthe war bonnet and lance of many a brave with dancing fire. Whatevertheir purport, the signals seemed ignored by the Sioux, for presentlytwo riders came sweeping down the long slope, straight for the pointwhere sat Red Fox, as, for want of other name, we must for the presentcall him--who, for his part, shading his eyes with his hand, sat gazingtoward the westward side of his warrior circle, evidently awaiting somedemonstration there before giving signal for action elsewhere. Obedientto his first instructions, the main body had spread out in long,irregular skirmish rank, their mettlesome ponies capering and dancing intheir eagerness. Chanting in chorus some shrill, weird song, the linewas now slowly, steadily advancing, still too far away to warrant thewasting of a shot, yet unmistakably seeking to close as much as possiblebefore bursting in with the final charge.
"SOME FEW OF THEIR NUMBER BORNE AWAY BY THEIR COMRADES."]
And still the red leader sat at gaze, oblivious for the moment ofeverything around him, ignoring the coming of orders possibly from LameWolf himself. Suddenly the silver armlets once more gleamed on high.Then, clapping the palm of his right hand to his mouth, Red Fox gavevoice to a ringing war whoop, fierce, savage and exultant, and, almostat the instant, like the boom and rumble that follows some vividlightning flash, the prairie woke and trembled to the thunder of near athousand hoofs. From every point of the compass--from every side,yelling like fiends of some orthodox hell, down they came--the wildwarriors of the frontier in furious rush upon the silent and almostpeaceful covert of this little band of brothers in the dusty garb ofblue. One, two, three hundred yards they came, centering on the leafyclump of cottonwoods, riding at tearing gallop, erect, defiant, daringat the start, and giving full voice to their wild war cry. Then bendingforward, then crouching low, then flattening out like hunted squirrel,for as the foremost in the dash came thundering on within good carbinerange, all on a sudden the watch dogs of the little plains fort began tobark. Tiny jets of flame and smoke shot from the level of theprairie, from over dingy mounds of sand, from behind the trunks ofstunted trees, from low parapet of log or leather. Then the entire groveseemed veiling itself in a drifting film of blue, the whole chargingcircle to crown itself with a dun cloud of dust that swept eastward overthe prairie, driven by the stiff, unhampered breeze. The welkin rangwith savage yell, with answering cheer, with the sputter and crackle ofrifle and revolver, the loud bellow of Springfield, and then, stillyelping, the feathered riders veered and circled, ever at magnificentspeed, each man for himself, apparently, yet all guided and controlledby some unseen, yet acknowledged, power; and, in five minutes, savewhere some hapless pony lay quivering and kicking on the turf, the lowground close at hand was swept clean of horse or man. The wild attackhad been made in vain. The Sioux were scampering back, convinced, butnot discomfited. Some few of their number, borne away stunned andbleeding by comrade hands from underneath their stricken chargers,--somethree or four, perhaps, who had dared too much,--were now closing theireyes on the last fight of their savage lives.
To Ray and to many of his men it was all an old story. Stabber wouldnever have counselled or permitted attack on seasoned troopers, fightingbehind even improvised shelter. Something, perhaps, had occurred toblind his younger rival to the peril of such assault, and now, as threeor four little parties were seen slowly drifting away toward the ridge,burdened by some helpless form, other couriers came thundering down atRed Fox, and wild excitement prevailed among the Elk Teeth. More signalswere flashing. More Indians came popping into view, their featheredbonnets streaming in the rising wind, and about the prairie wave, wherethe savage general had established field headquarters, a furiousconference was going on. Stabber had again interposed, and with grim buthopeful eyes, Ray and his fellows watched and noted. Every lull in thefight was so much gain for them.
"Twelve fifty-two," said the dark-eyed commander, swinging his watchinto the pocket of his hunting shirt, and sliding backward into thestream bed. "All serene so far. Watch things on this front, Field, whileI make the rounds and see how we came out."
"All serene so far" it was! Not a man hurt. Two of the sorrels had beenhit by flying bullets and much amazed and stung thereat, but neither wascrippled. Bidding their guards to dig for water that might soon beneeded, Ray once more made his way to the northward side and rejoinedField and Winsor.
In an almost cloudless sky of steely blue the sun had just passed themeridian and was streaming hotly down on the stirring picture. Northwardthe ridge line and the long, gradual slope seemed alive with swarms ofIndian warriors, many of them darting about in wild commotion. About thelittle eminence where Sta
bber and the Fox had again locked horns inviolent altercation, as many as a hundred braves had gathered. About themiddle knob, from whose summit mirror flashes shot from time to time,was still another concourse, listening, apparently, to the admonitionsof a leader but recently arrived, a chieftain mounted on an Americanhorse, almost black, and Ray studied the pair long and curiously throughhis glasses. "Lame Wolf, probably," said he, but the distance was toogreat to enable him to be certain. What puzzled him more than anythingwas the apparent division of authority, the unusual display of discordamong the Sioux. These were all, doubtless, of the Ogalalla tribe, RedCloud's own people, yet here were they wrangling like ward "heelers" andwasting precious time. Whatever his antecedents this new comer had beena powerful sower of strife and sedition, for, instead of followingimplicitly the counsels of one leader, the Indians were divided nowbetween three.
True to its practice, the prairie wind was sweeping stronger andstronger with every moment, as the sun-warmed strata over the wide,billowing surface sought higher levels, and the denser, cooler currentfrom the west came rushing down. And now all sounds of the debate werewhisked away toward the breaks of the South Shyenne,[*] and it was nolonger possible for old Sioux campaigners to catch a word of thediscussion. The leaves of the cottonwoods whistled in the rising gale,and every time a pony crossed the stream bed and clambered the steepbanks out to the west, little clouds of dun-colored dust came sailingtoward the grove, scattered and spent, however, far from the lair of thedefence.
[* Oddly enough, that method of spelling the river's name becameofficial.]
But, while the discussion seemed endless among the Indians on thenorthward side, never for a moment was the vigilance of the circlerelaxed. South, east and west the slopes and lowlands were dotted withrestless horsemen, and from young Clayton came the word that through hisglass he could make out three or four warriors far away toward theMoccasin Ridge. "That's good," said Ray. "It means they, too, arelooking for a column coming out from Frayne. But where on earth did allthese rascals come from? There must be four hundred now in sight."
Well might he ask and marvel! Stabber's little village had never morethan fifty warriors. Lame Wolf's band was counted at less than twohundred and forty fighting men, and these, so said the agents of theomniscient Bureau, were all the Ogalallas away from the shelter of thereservation when the trouble started. No more should be allowed to go,was the confident promise, yet a fortnight nearly had elapsed since thefrontier fun began. News of battle sweeps with marvellous speed throughIndian haunted lands, and here were warriors by the score, come tostrengthen the hands of kindred in the field, and, more were coming. Themirror signals plainly told them that. Yet it was now well nigh oneo'clock and not another hostile move was made. Fox then was being heldby stronger hands. It meant that Lame Wolf had listened to reason,--andStabber, and would permit no fresh attack until his numbers should be soincreased that resistance would practically be vain. It meant evenmore--that the Indian leader in chief command felt sure no force wasyet within helping distance of the corralled troopers. He could,therefore, take his time.
But this was a theory Ray would not whisper to his men. He knew Webb. Heknew Webb would soon read the signs from the north and be coming to hisrelief, and Ray was right. Even as he reasoned there came a message fromacross the grove. Lieutenant Clayton said the Indians he had seen awayto the south were racing back. "Thank God!" was the murmured answer noman heard. "Now, lads, be ready!" was the ringing word that roused thelittle troop, like bugle call "To Arms." And even as eager faces liftedover the low parapets to scan the distant foe, fresh signals cameflashing down from the northward ridge, fresh bands of warriors camedarting to join the martial throng about the still wrangling chieftains,and then, all on a sudden, with mighty yelling and shrill commotion,that savage council burst asunder, and, riding at speed, a dozen braveswent lashing away to the westward side, while with fierce brandishing ofarms and shields and much curveting and prancing of excited ponies, thewild battle lines were formed again. The Sioux were coming for thesecond trial.
"Meet them as before! Make every shot tell!" were the orders passed fromman to man and heard and noted amidst the whistling of the wind and thesounds of scurry and commotion at the front. Then, silent and crouchinglow, the soldiers shoved the brown barrels of their carbines forth againand waited. And then the grim silence of the little fortress wasbroken, as, with startling, sudden force there went up a shout from thewestward side:--
"My God, boys, they're setting fire to the prairie!"
Ray sprang to his feet and gazed. Away out to the west and southwest,whence came the strong breeze blowing from the Sweetwater Hills, half adozen dark, agile forms, bending low, were scudding afoot over thesward, and everywhere they moved there sprang up in their tracks littlesheets of lambent flame, little clouds of bluish, blinding smoke, andalmost in less time than it takes to tell it, a low wall of fire,started in a dozen places, reaching far across the low ground, fencingthe valley from stream bed to the southward slopes, crowned by itsswift-sailing crest of hot, stifling fume, came lapping and seething andsweeping across the level, licking up the dry buffalo grass like so muchtow, mounting higher and fiercer with every second, and bearing downupon the little grove and its almost helpless defenders in fearfulforce, in resistless fury--a charge no bullet could stop, an enemy nohuman valor could hope to daunt or down.
"Quick, men!" yelled Ray. "Out with you, you on the west front! Stay youhere, you others! Watch the Sioux! They'll be on us in an instant!" Andaway he sped from the shelter of the bank, out from the thick of thecottonwoods, out to the open prairie, straight toward the coming torrentof flame still, thank God, full seven hundred yards away, but leapingtoward them with awful strides. Out with him rushed Field, and out fromClayton's front sped half a dozen old hands, every man fumbling for hismatch box; out until they had reached a line with their captain, alreadysprawled upon the turf, and there, full an hundred yards from the grove,they spread in rude skirmish line and, reckless of the mad chorus ofyells that came sweeping down the wind, reckless of the clamor of thecoming charge, reckless of the whistling lead that almost instantlybegan nipping and biting the turf about them, here, there andeverywhere, they, too, had started little fires; they, too had run theirline of flame across the windward front; they, too, had launched a wallof flame sailing toward the grove, and then, back through blinding smokethey ran for their saddle blankets, just as the sharp sputter of shotsburst forth on the northward side, and the Sioux, with magnificent dash,came thundering within range.
Then followed a thrilling battle for life--two red enemies now enrolledagainst the blue. "Fight fire with fire" is the old rule of the prairie.Ray had promptly met the on-coming sweep of the torrent by starting asmaller blaze that should at least clear the surface close at hand, and,by eating off the fuel, stop, possibly, the progress of the greaterflame.
But the minor blaze had also to be stopped lest it come snapping anddevouring within the grove. It is no easy matter to check a prairie fireagainst a prairie gale when every human aid is summoned. It is desperatework to try to check one when to the fires of nature are added thefurious blaze of hostile arms, every rifle sighted by savage, vengefulfoe. "Check it, lads, ten yards out!" shouted Ray, to his gallantfellows, now lost in the smoke, while he again rushed across the frontto meet the charging Sioux. With his brave young face all grime, Fieldwas already at work, guiding, urging, aiding his little band. "Bothhands! Both hands!" he cried, as, wielding his folded blanket, he smotethe fringe of flame. "Stamp it out! Great God! Wing, are you hit?"
For answer the sergeant by his side went plunging down, face foremost,and little Trooper Denny, rushing to aid his young officer in the effortto raise the stricken man, as suddenly loosed his hold and, togetheragain, these two sworn comrades of many a campaign lay side by side, asthey had lain in camp and bivouac all over the wide frontier, and poorDenny could only gasp a loyal word of warning to his officer. "Get back,sir; for God's sake, get back!" ere the life blood came
gushing from hismouth. Bending low, Field grabbed the faithful fellow in his strong armsand, calling to the nearmost men to look to Wing, bore his helplessburden back through stifling smoke clouds; laid him on the turf at thefoot of a cottonwood, then ran again to the perilous work of fightingthe flame, stumbling midway over another prostrate form. "Both hands!Both hands!" he yelled as again his blanket whirled in air; and so, bydint of desperate work, the inner line of flame at last was stayed, butevery man of the gallant little squad of fire fighters had paid thepenalty of his devotion and felt the sting of hissing lead--Field thelast of all. Westward now, well nigh an hundred yards in width, a broad,black, smoking patch stretched across the pathway of the swift-comingwall of smoke and flame, a safeguard to the beleaguered command worthall the soldier sacrifice it cost. In grand and furious sweep, thescourge of the prairie sent its destroying line across the wide level tothe south of the sheltering grove, but in the blood and sweat of heroicmen the threatening flames of the windward side had sputtered out. Thelittle garrison was safe from one, at least, of its dread and mercilessfoes, though five of its best and bravest lay dead or dying, and othersstill sore stricken, in the midst of the smoking grove.
"Field, old boy," said Ray, with brimming eyes, as he knelt and claspedthe hand of the bleeding lad, while the Sioux fell back in wrath anddismay from the low-aimed, vengeful fire of the fighting line. "Thismeans the Medal of Honor for you, if word of mine can fetch it!"