CHAPTER XV.
COURT-MARTIAL.
First Sergeant Graham had sworn to the disappearance of the money at theNiobrara and the fact that at daybreak the trumpeter had gone with hishorse, arms, and equipments. He also told of his belief that he and themen who slept near him that night had been stupefied by chloroform. Twoother troopers told of the loss of their money at the same time; thehospital steward from Fort Robinson testified to Fred's coming to himand getting a little vial of chloroform on a forged request fromSergeant Graham. Corporal Watts had positively identified a ten-dollarbill, which was in the trumpeter's possession when he was searched (athis own request) when first accused of the crime, as one stolen from himat the Niobrara. He had had some experience, he said, and had made arecord of the numbers; and this record, in a little notebook, wasexhibited to the court.
Not once had the defense interposed or asked a question. It wasevidently the policy of Fred's advisers to let the prosecution go as faras it chose. And now came the announcement of the name that was mostintimately connected with the case, and Sergeant Dawson in his completeuniform strolled into court, removed the gauntlet from his right hand,and holding it aloft, looked the judge advocate squarely in the face andswore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.Then he sat down and glanced quickly around him, but his eyes did notseem to see Fred Waller, nor did they rest for an instant on CaptainCharlton, who, tugging at his mustache, looked steadily at the face ofhis left guide. Then began the slow, painful, cumbrous method by whichthe law of the land requires military courts to extract their evidence,every question and answer being reduced to writing. Sergeant Dawsongave, as required, his full rank, troop, regiment, and station, buthesitated as to the latter point. "I was left behind at Red Cloud whenthe troop came away Sunday a week ago, sir, along with Private Donovan,and we were kept there until I got orders to come here with the hospitalsteward. I just got in this morning, and I'm told the troop is back atthe Platte crossing." But the matter of station was of no particularconsequence, and the examination proceeded. Yes, he knew the prisoner,Trumpeter Fred Waller, Troop B, and had known him several years beforehe had enlisted. Told to tell in his own way what he knew of thecircumstances that led to the charges against Waller, the witnesscleared his throat and began.
It was the night they camped at the Niobrara, giving the date, that theprisoner seemed restless. All the men expected the Indians to make anattempt to run off the horses, and all were wakeful, but he had mostoccasion to notice Waller, who didn't seem able to sleep. That nightpassed without alarm of any kind, but the next night it was very dark,the moon went down at eleven, and the horses got to stamping andsnorting. Witness was sergeant of the guard, and all night long had tobe moving about among his sentries and the herd. About midnight he hadcome in to the fire, where Sergeant Graham was sleeping, to clean outhis pipe, that had clogged. His leather wallet, with his money and somepapers, was inside the canvas scouting jacket that the captain allowedhim and others of the men to wear, and he took the jacket off a fewminutes while he walked over to the stream and soused his head and facein the cold water, a thing he always tried to do when he felt sleepy.While there he thought he heard a call from the sentry up the stream andhe ran thither, and it was just then that the horses began making such afuss. He kept around among the sentries, trying to find out the cause,and did not go back to the fire until it was all quiet after twoo'clock, and then he slipped into his jacket and overcoat and hurriedback to where Donovan was on post below the bivouac. There was somenoise they could not understand, far out on the prairie in thatdirection. He never missed his money and the wallet until daybreak, whenit was discovered that Waller had gone. He never heard him steal awayduring the night, and was simply amazed when told of his desertion. Thelieutenant had been disposed to blame him at first for letting thetrumpeter get away with his horse, but no man could have been morevigilant than he was. "The captain had never blamed him," he was surefrom the captain's manner when he spoke to him about it at Red Cloud.And Dawson looked confidently now at his commander, but that gentlemannever changed a muscle of his face.
As was customary, the judge advocate inquired if the prisoner had anyquestions to ask, and the spectators were amazed when he calmlyanswered, "No." Big beads of sweat were trickling down the sergeant'sface by this time, but he could not control the look of wonderment thatflashed for one instant into his eyes at this refusal of a valuedprivilege.
"Has the court any questions?" asked the judge advocate, and to thestill greater wonderment of spectators and witness no member of thecourt appeared to care to inquire further. When Sergeant Dawson leftthe court room and walked away toward the barracks he knew that all eyeswere upon him, and just as soon as he could throw aside his saber,helmet, and full dress he lost no time in getting to the trader's storeand swallowing half a tumbler of raw whisky. He thought the ordeal overand that he was free. It was with a sensation of something likepremonition that, as he came forth, he saw at the barracks the orderlyof the court-martial, who had been sent to warn him that he would becalled by the defense at two o'clock.
CHAPTER XVI.
PRISON AND PROMOTION.
That afternoon the court room was crowded when Sergeant Dawson retookhis seat and glanced for the first time at the prisoner before him. Infront of the boy was a little table, on which was a number of slips ofpaper. One of these was quietly passed to the judge advocate, who tookit, wheeled in his chair, and read aloud:
"What answer did you give Lieutenant Blunt when he asked if you hadbeen outside the sentry-line the night the prisoner disappeared?"
"I told him that I had not, sir," was the prompt reply.
The judge advocate posted the reply on his record sheet, and wrote theanswer below. Then came another slip.
"What answer did you give the captain when asked if any man had riddenback toward the Niobrara the morning the troop left there for RedCloud?"
The sergeant's throat seemed to clog a little, but he gulped down theobstruction. "I said no man went back, sir."
"What buildings, if any, were there near the spot where the troop was inbivouac on the Niobrara?"
Dawson's face was losing its ruddy hue, but the beads of sweat werestarting afresh.
"An old empty log hut, sir. I didn't take much notice of it, sir."
"How far from the sentries was it?"
"I don't just know, sir. Two or three hundred yards perhaps." His lipswere beginning to twitch, and his eyes to wander nervously from face toface.
"How much money did you lose with your wallet that night?"
"Over sixty dollars, sir; every cent I had."
"What answer did you give Captain Charlton at Red Cloud when he askedyou if you had seen anything of it since that night?"
"I told him no, sir."
"With whose money were you playing cards then, below Red Cloud, on theSunday the troop marched away, leaving you behind?"
Dawson's face was ghastly. He choked for a moment, then seemed to make adesperate effort to pull himself together. "It wasn't so, sir," hemuttered; then more loudly, "It was just a few dollars I borrowed," hebegan, but looking furtively around he caught one glimpse of hiscaptain's stern face, and just beyond him, through the open window, thesight of a tall, straight form in the uniform of the infantry. It wasthe provost sergeant from Fort Robinson.
"It wasn't mine," he weakly murmured.
Another slip, and in the same cool, relentless tone the judge advocateread:
"What reason had you for taking your horse to the post blacksmith,instead of the cavalry farrier, to be shod the evening you reached FortRobinson?"
Again the pallor of his face was almost ghastly, a hunted and desperatelook came into his flitting eyes. One could have heard a pin dropanywhere in the court room, so intense was the silence. For the firsttime Dawson began to realize that his every movement had been watched,traced, and reported--and still he strove to rally.
"He was a better horse-shoer, that's all."
&n
bsp; "You have testified that you did not go outside of the line on the nightof the camp on the Niobrara, and did not allow anyone to go back afterthe troop marched away. For what purpose did you, yourself, ride backand enter the log hut you described?"
"I--I never did," gasped Dawson, with glaring eyes and ashen face,"I----" but his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth, forCaptain Charlton quietly arose, stepped forward, and placed upon thetable a large, flat wallet, at sight of which the sergeant's nerves gaveway entirely. He made one or two efforts to speak, he struggled as ifto rise, his eyes rolled in his head, and in another instant he wasslipping helplessly to the floor. A young surgeon sprang to his side asthe bystanders strove to lift him, and with one brief glance turned tothe court: "Mr. President, this man is in a spasm, and should be takento the hospital."
"Very good, sir," was the calm reply. "Major Edwards, will you see to itthat a sentry is posted over him. That man must not be allowed toescape."
Two more witnesses were examined that afternoon--the provost sergeantand Captain Charlton. The former testified that Dawson had been gamblingand had lost heavily in the post before pay day; that on that fatefulSunday, bill after bill he had seen him pay--over one hundred dollars atthe table in the gamblers' tent down below the reservation--before heinterfered, warned him of the departure of his troop, and ordered him toreport in garrison with his horse at once. Donovan had merely been alooker-on at the mad game in which the sergeant had sought to recoverhis losses.
Charlton stated that, after his investigation at Red Cloud, he wasconfident that Dawson was the trooper who rode back to the old ranch,and that something must be concealed there. Searching it late, Sundaynight, he found in the dugout a spot where the earth had been recentlyscooped away, and there in Dawson's old rubber poncho was the walletwith his papers and about two hundred dollars of the missing money, orwhat his men believed to be such.
And then, amid the sympathetic glances of all the court, young Fred toldhis strange but soldierly story. It was Dawson who asked him to get thechloroform for him at Red Cloud and gave him the folded pencil note; itwas Dawson who suggested to him the idea of sleeping down below thebivouac that evening near where Donovan was posted, and it was Dawsonwho roused him suddenly and startlingly in the dead of the night. "Upwith you, Fred, boy!" he had said. "Up with you, but make no noise.There's the devil's own news! The Indians are out everywhere! Thelieutenant's just got a courier from Robinson, and he and SergeantGraham have to write dispatches to go right to the captain at Laramie.You know the whole Platte valley, and how to get across and reach theSidney road below?" Of course he did. "Then the lieutenant says, forGod's sake lose not a minute; go for all you're worth; keep well to thewest until you cross the Platte, and then make for the southeast, andwarn back everybody who is coming north. He says Mrs. Charlton and thechildren were to come that way, Saturday or Sunday, to join the captainat Red Cloud. You can save them, if you're in time."
Suddenly roused from sleep, Fred was bewildered for an instant; couldonly realize that his loved benefactors and friends were in deadly periland that he was chosen to haste and rescue them, Dawson lifted him intothe saddle; pressed some money into his hand to buy food when he reachedthe settlement or Sidney, in case he met no travelers this side; led himto the water's edge, and bade him lose not an instant. He never dreamedof harm or wrong or plot until his wounded father told him the foulcharge against him, after his long and gallant ride that blazingSunday.
Then for a moment the little man broke down and sobbed; and old war-wornsoldiers in the court turned away with glistening eyes, and thepresident, rapping on the table, huskily ordered the room to be cleared.Charlton's arms were around his trumpeter's shoulders as he led him tothe open air, and to his father's bedside. "Cleared!" he said, in answerto the longing look in the sergeant's eyes. "Cleared! There isn't a man,woman, or child in all the post that doesn't know the verdict, and thatDawson is doomed to four years in prison." And then he left themtogether and alone.
HE SOUNDED THE RETREAT.]
Dawson's trial and confession settled it all. He himself was the thief,who sought in this way to replace the money lost in gambling and tothrow upon Fred Waller, should he escape, the burden of the crime. But amerciful God had watched over the boy in his brave and loyal effort; hadguided him in safety through a host of savage foes, and led him on tohonor and vindication in the end. For months there was no happier boy onall the wide frontier than the little hero of the Sidney route; nohappier father than brave old Sergeant Waller.
Long years afterward, riding one evening into a cavalry camp on theSouthern plains, Captain Cross and the writer noted a tall, blue-eyed,bronzed-cheeked trooper, whose twirling mustache was almost the colorof the faded yellow of the chevrons on his sleeve. Despite dust and therough prairie dress, no finer soldier had met their eyes in the longcolumn that went flitting by.
"Who is that young first sergeant?"
"That?" answered Cross in surprise. "Don't you know who that is? Why,man, that's Charlton's old Trumpeter Fred."
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Text in italics is enclosed with underscores: _italics_.
Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.
Punctuation has been corrected without note.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows: Page 22: fellowed changed to followed Page 70: aint changed to ain't
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