Indians of North America -- Fiction; Soldiers -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction
"It might. The Fork turns almost square to the north and runs back of
Rosebud. But what I mean is, they weren't chased by the Sioux. I doubt
if they fought them at all."
"How about Gamble's horse?--and the blood? There's been some kind of a
fight. Look, Con! There's a signal!"
Surely enough. As Connell sprang to his feet and the men quickly turned
to their grazing horses, one of the troopers, far in advance, could be
seen close to the crest of the divide. He had dismounted to creep
forward and peer over, and now, half-way back to where he had left his
horse, was waving his hat, with right arm extended from directly over
his head down to the horizontal and to the east.
"Mount!" said Geordie, quietly, springing lightly to saddle with a
thrill of excitement in his young heart. "Follow at a walk, sergeant,
off to the northeast. That's where we're needed, Con."
For the advance-guard, mounting quickly, was now loping along parallel
with the divide, yet keeping well down below its backbone, and, putting
spurs to their horses, "Badger" and "Coyote," the chums of old, darted
swiftly away to join them.
Five minutes more, while a trooper held the horses of the young
officers and their guides, while in silence and with eager eyes the
little detachment came jogging over the swale to the support of the
leaders, three forms were crouching forward to the top of the wavelike
ridge, and presently three heads, uncovered, were peering over into the
valley beyond. Then the arm of one of them was outstretched, pointing.
Then the field-glasses of two others were unslung, fixed and focused
on some distant object; and then back, still crouching, came one of the
number, signalling to Sergeant Drum to come on. Whereupon, without a
word of command, simply following the example of their foremost man,
the riders gave the bridle-hand, and with the other whipped the ready
carbines from their sockets, and with the butts resting on the right
thigh, the brown muzzles advanced, came on at a swift trot, those in
rear unconsciously pressing forward on those in front.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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