A Daughter of the Sioux: A Tale of the Indian frontierKing, Charles
General
A Daughter of the Sioux: A Tale of the Indian frontier
King, Charles
Dakota Indians -- Fiction; Indian women -- Fiction; Western stories
No answer at his side, and Ray, with the lenses still at his eyes, took
no note for the moment that Field remained so silent. Out at the front
the excitement increased. Out through the veil of surging warriors, the
loud-voiced, impetuous brave twice burst his way, and seemed at one and
the same time, in his superb poise and gesturings, to be urging the
entire body to join him in instant assault on the troops, and hurling
taunt and anathema on the besieged. Whoever he was, he was in a
veritable fury. As many as half of the Indians seemed utterly carried
away by his fiery words, and with much shouting and gesticulation and
brandishing of gun and lance, were yelling approbation of his views and
urging Stabber's people to join them. More furious language followed and
much dashing about of excited ponies.
"Have you ever seen that fellow before?" demanded Ray, of brown-eyed
Sergeant Winsor, who had spent a lifetime on the plains, but Winsor was
plainly puzzled.
"I can't say for the life of me, sir," was the answer. "I don't know him
at all--and yet--"
"Whoever he is, by Jove," said Ray, "he's a bigger man this day than
Stabber, for he's winning the fight. Now, if he only leads the dash as
he does the debate, we can pick him off. Who are our best shots on this
front?" and eagerly he scanned the few faces near him. "Webber's tiptop
and good for anything under five hundred yards when he isn't excited,
and Stoltz, he's a keen, cool one. No! not you, Hogan," laughed the
commander, as a freckled faced veteran popped his head up over a nearby
parapet of sand, and grinned his desire to be included.
"I've never seen the time you could hit what you aimed at. Slip out of
that hole and find Webber and tell him to come here--and you take his
burrow." Whereupon Hogan, grinning rueful acquiescence in his
commander's criticism, slid backwards into the stream bed and, followed
by the chaff of the three or four comrades near enough to catch the
words, went crouching from post to post in search of the desired
marksman.
"You used to be pretty sure with the carbine in the Tonto Basin when we
were after Apaches, sergeant," continued Ray, again peering through the
glasses. "I'm mistaken in this fellow if he doesn't ride well within
range, and we must make an example of him. I want four first class shots
to single him out."
"The lieutenant can beat the best I ever did, sir," said Winsor, with a
lift of the hand toward the hat brim, as though in apology, for Field,
silent throughout the brief conference, had half risen on his hands and
knees and was edging over to the left, apparently seeking to reach the
shelter of a little hummock close to the bank.
"Why, surely, Field," was the quick reply, as Ray turned toward his
junior. "That will make it complete."
[Illustration: "WITH ONE MAGNIFICENT RED ARM UPLIFTED."]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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