CHAPTER V.
AT FARRON'S RANCH.
When Sergeant Wells reached Farron's ranch that evening little Jessiewas peacefully sleeping in the room that had been her mother's. Thechild was tired after the long, fifty-mile drive from Russell, and hadbeen easily persuaded to go to bed.
Farron himself, with the two men who worked for him, was having asociable smoke and chat, and the three were not a little surprised atWells's coming and the unwelcome news he bore. The ranchman was one ofthe best-hearted fellows in the world, but he had a few infirmities ofdisposition and one or two little conceits that sometimes marred hisbetter judgment. Having lived in the Chug Valley a year or two beforethe regiment came there, he had conceived it to be his prerogative toadopt a somewhat patronizing tone to its men, and believed that he knewmuch more about the manners and customs of the Sioux than they couldpossibly have learned.
The Fifth Cavalry had been stationed not far from the Chug Valley whenhe first came to the country, and afterwards were sent out to Arizonafor a five-years' exile. It was all right for the Fifth to claimacquaintance with the ways of the Sioux, Farron admitted, but as forthese fellows of the --th,--that was another thing. It did not seem tooccur to him that the guarding of the neighboring reservations for aboutfive years had given the new regiment opportunities to study and observethese Indians that had not been accorded to him.
Another element which he totally overlooked in comparing the relativeadvantages of the two regiments was a very important one that radicallyaltered the whole situation. When the Fifth was on duty watching theSioux, it was just after breech-loading rifles had been introduced intothe army, and before they had been introduced among the Sioux.
Through the mistaken policy of the Indian Bureau at Washington thisstate of affairs was now changed and, for close fighting, the savageswere better armed than the troops. Nearly every warrior had either amagazine rifle or a breech-loader, and many of them had two revolversbesides. Thus armed, the Sioux were about ten times as formidable asthey had been before, and the task of restraining them was far moredangerous and difficult than it had been when the Fifth guarded them.
The situation demanded greater vigilance and closer study than in theold days, and Farron ought to have had sense enough to see it. But hedid not. He had lived near the Sioux so many years; these soldiers hadbeen near them so many years less; therefore they must necessarily knowless about them than he did. He did not take into account that it wasthe soldiers' business to keep eyes and ears open to everything relatingto the Indians, while the information which he had gained came to himsimply as diversion, or to satisfy his curiosity.
So it happened that when Wells came in that night and told Farron whatwas feared at Phillips's, the ranchman treated his warning withgood-humored but rather contemptuous disregard.
"Phillips gets stampeded too easy," was the way he expressed himself,"and when you fellows of the Mustangs have been here as long as I haveyou'll get to know these Indians better. Even if they did come, Pete andJake here, and I, with our Henry rifles, could stand off fifty of 'em.Why, we've done it many a time."
"How long ago?" asked the sergeant, quietly.
"Oh, I don't know. It was before you fellows came. Why, you don't beginto know anything about these Indians! You never see 'em here nowadays,but when I first came here to the Chug there wasn't a week they didn'traid us. They haven't shown up in three years, except just this springthey've run off a little stock. But you never see 'em."
"_You_ may never see them, Farron, but we do,--see them day in and dayout as we scout around the reservation; and while I may not know whatthey were ten years ago, I know what they are _now_, and that's more tothe purpose. You and Pete might have stood off a dozen or so when theyhadn't 'Henrys' and 'Winchesters' as they have now, but you couldn't doit to-day, and it's all nonsense for you to talk of it. Of course, solong as you keep inside here you may pick them off, but look out of thiswindow! What's to prevent their getting into your corral out there, andthen holding you here! They can set fire to your roof over your head,man, and you can't get out to extinguish it."
"What makes you think they've spotted me, anyhow?" asked Farron.
"They looked you over the last time they came up the valley, and youknow it. Now, if you and the men want to stay here and make a fight forit, all right,--I'd rather do that myself, only we ought to have two orthree men to put in the corral,--but here's little Jessie. Let me takeher down to Phillips's; she's safe there. He has everything ready for asiege and you haven't."
"Why, she's only just gone to sleep, Wells; I don't want to wake her upout of a warm bed and send her off four miles a chilly night likethis,--all for a scare, too. The boys down there would laugh atme,--just after bringing her here from Denver, too."
"They're not laughing down there _this_ night, Farron, and they're notthe kind that get stampeded either. Keep Jessie, if you say so, and I'llstay through the night; but I've fixed some signals with them down atthe road and you've got to abide by them. They can see your light plainas a beacon, and it's got to go out in fifteen minutes."
Farron had begun by pooh-poohing the sergeant's views, but he alreadyfelt that they deserved serious consideration. He was more than halfdisposed to adopt Wells's plan and let him take Jessie down to the saferstation at Phillips's, but she looked so peaceful and bonny, sleepingthere in her little bed, that he could not bear to disturb her. He wasashamed, too, of the appearance of yielding.
So he told the sergeant that while he would not run counter to anyarrangement he had made as to signals, and was willing to back him up inany project for the common defence, he thought they could protect Jessieand the ranch against any marauders that might come along. He didn'tthink it was necessary that they should all sit up. One man could watchwhile the others slept.
As a first measure Farron and the sergeant took a turn around the ranch.The house itself was about thirty yards from the nearest side of thecorral, or enclosure, in which Farron's horses were confined. In thecorral were a little stable, a wagon-shed, and a poultry-house. The backwindows of the stable were on the side towards the house, and shouldIndians get possession of the stable they could send fire-arrows, ifthey chose, to the roof of the house, and with their rifles shoot downany persons who might attempt to escape from the burning building.
This fault of construction had long since been pointed out to Farron,but the man who called his attention to it, unluckily, was an officer ofthe new regiment, and the ranchman had merely replied, with aself-satisfied smile, that he guessed he'd lived long enough in thatcountry to know a thing or two about the Indians.
Sergeant Wells shook his head as he looked at the stable, but Farronsaid that it was one of his safe-guards.
"I've got two mules in there that can smell an Indian five miles off,and they'd begin to bray the minute they did. That would wake me up, yousee, because their heads are right towards me. Now, if they were wayacross the corral I mightn't hear 'em at all. Then it's close to thehouse, and convenient for feeding in winter. Will you put your horse into-night?"
Sergeant Wells declined. He might need him, he said, and would keep himin front of the house where he was going to take his station to watchthe valley and look out for signals. He led the horse to the stream andgave him a drink, and asked Farron to lay out a hatful of oats. "Theymight come in handy if I have to make an early start."
However lightly Farron might estimate the danger, his men regarded it asa serious matter. Having heard the particulars from Sergeant Wells,their first care was to look over their rifles and see that they were inperfect order and in readiness for use. When at last Farron hadcompleted a leisurely inspection of his corral and returned to thehouse, he found Wells and Pete in quiet talk at the front, and thesergeant's horse saddled close at hand.
"Oh, well!" he said, "if you're as much in earnest as all that, I'llbring my pipe out here with you, and if any signal should come, it'll betime enough then to wake Jessie, wrap her in a blanket, and you gallopoff to Phillip
s's with her."
And so the watchers went on duty. The light in the ranch wasextinguished, and all about the place was as quiet as the broad, rollingprairie itself. Farron remained wakeful a little while, then said he wassleepy and should go in and lie down without undressing. Pete, too,speedily grew drowsy and sat down on the porch, where Wells soon caughtsight of his nodding head just as the moon came peeping up over thedistant crest of the "Buffalo Hill."
How long Farron slept he had no time to ask, for the next thing he knewwas that a rude hand was shaking his shoulder, and Pete's voice said,--
"Up with you, Farron! The signal's fired at Phillips's. Up quick!"
As Farron sprang to the floor, Pete struck a light, and the next minutethe kerosene lamp, flickering and sputtering at first, was shining inthe eastward window. Outside the door the ranchman found Wellstightening his saddle-girths, while his horse, snorting with excitement,pricked up his ears and gazed down the valley.
"Who fired?" asked Farron, barely awake.
"I don't know; Ralph probably. Better get Jessie for me at once. TheIndians are this side of the Platte sure, and they may be near at hand.I don't like the way Spot's behaving,--see how excited he is. I don'tlike to leave you short-handed if there's to be trouble. If there's timeI'll come back from Phillips's. Come, man! Wake Jessie."
"All right. There's plenty of time, though. They must be miles down thevalley yet. If they'd come from the north, the telegraph would havegiven warning long ago. And Dick Warner--my brother-in-law, Jessie'suncle--always promised he'd be down to tell me first thing, if they cameany way that he could hear of it. You bet he'll be with us beforemorning, unless they're between him and us now."
With that he turned into the house, and in a moment reappeared with thewondering, sleepy-eyed, half-wakened little maid in his strong arms.Wells was already in saddle, and Spot was snorting and prancing about inevident excitement.
"I'll leave the 'Henry' with Pete. I can't carry it and Jessie, too.Hand her up to me and snuggle her well in the blanket."
Farron hugged his child tight in his arms one moment. She put her littlearms around his neck and clung to him, looking piteously into his face,yet shedding no tears. Something told her there was danger; somethingwhispered "Indians!" to the childish heart; but she stifled her words offear and obeyed her father's wish.
"You are going down to Phillips's where Ralph is, Jessie, darling.Sergeant Wells is going to carry you. Be good and perfectly quiet. Don'tcry, don't make a particle of noise, pet. Whatever you do, don't makeany noise. Promise papa."
As bravely as she had done when she waited that day at the station atCheyenne, the little woman choked back the rising sob. She noddedobedience, and then put up her bonny face for her father's kiss. Who cantell of the dread, the emotion he felt as he clung to the trustinglittle one for that short moment?
"God guard you, my baby," he muttered, as he carefully lifted her up toWells, who circled her in his strong right arm, and seated her on theovercoat that was rolled at his pommel.
Farron carefully wrapped the blanket about her tiny feet and legs, andwith a prayer on his lips and a clasp of the sergeant's bridle hand hebade him go. Another moment, and Wells and little Jessie were lopingaway on Spot, and were rapidly disappearing from view along the dim,moonlit trail.
For a moment the three ranchmen stood watching them. Far to thenortheast a faint light could be seen at Phillips's, and the roofs andwalls were dimly visible in the rays of the moon. The hoof-beats of oldSpot soon died away in the distance, and all seemed as still as thegrave. Anxious as he was, Farron took heart. They stood there silent afew moments after the horseman, with his precious charge, had faded fromview, and then Farron spoke,--
"They'll make it all safe. If the Indians were anywhere near us thosemules of mine would have given warning by this time."
The words were hardly dropped from his lips when from the other side ofthe house--from the stable at the corral--there came, harsh and loud andsudden, the discordant bray of mules. The three men started as ifstung.
"Quick! Pete. Fetch me any one of the horses. I'll gallop after him.Hear those mules? That means the Indians are close at hand!" And hesprang into the house for his revolvers, while Pete flew round to thestable.
It was not ten seconds before Farron reappeared at the front door. Petecame running out from the stable, leading an astonished horse by thesnaffle. There was not even a blanket on the animal's back, or time toput one there.
Farron was up and astride the horse in an instant, but before he couldgive a word of instruction to his men, there fell upon their ears asound that appalled them,--the distant thunder of hundreds of boundinghoofs; the shrill, vengeful yells of a swarm of savage Indians; thecrack! crack! of rifles; and, far down the trail along which Wells hadridden but a few moments before, they could see the flash of fire-arms.
"O God! save my little one!" was Farron's agonized cry as he struck hisheels to his horse's ribs and went tearing down the valley in mad anddesperate ride to the rescue.
Poor little Jessie! What hope to save her now?