Warrior Gap: A Story of the Sioux Outbreak of '68.King, Charles
General
Warrior Gap: A Story of the Sioux Outbreak of '68.
King, Charles
Dakota Indians -- Wars -- Fiction; Western stories
Singly or in little squads, many of them afoot, bedraggled, silent,
chagrined, the "outfit," described by Trooper Carey had slunk away from
the neighborhood of the Box Elder as soon as the storm subsided.
Solemnly, as befitted soldiers, silent and and alert despite their
dripping accoutrements, the little detachment of cavalry had pushed
ahead, riding by compass over the drenched uplands, steering for the
Sweetwater. Late in the afternoon the skies had cleared, the sun came
out, and they camped in a bunch of cottonwoods on the old Casper trail
and slept the sleep of the just and the weary. Early next day they
hastened on, reaching the usually shallow stream, with Devil's Gate only
a few miles away, before the setting of a second sun. Here they feasted
and rested well, and before the dawn was fairly red on the third day out
from Emory they were breasting the turbid waters and by noon had left
the valley far to the south and were well out toward the Big Horn
country, where it behooved them to look warily ahead, for from every
ridge, though far to the west of their probable raiding ground, Dean and
his men could expect to encounter scouting parties of the Indians at any
moment, and one false step meant death.
The third night passed without alarm, though every eye and ear was
strained. The morning of the fourth day dawned and the sun soon tinged
the misty mountain tops to the far north, and Dean saw before him an
open rolling country, over which it would be impossible to march without
attracting Indian eyes, if Indian eyes there were within twenty miles.
And with proper caution he ordered his men to keep in concealment,
horses grazing under guard in a deep depression near a stream, men
dozing soundly by turns until the twilight came, and then the
stars--their night lights for a long, long march. Dawn of the fifth day
found them huddled in a deep ravine of the southern foothills, with
Warrior Gap not thirty miles away, and now, indeed, was prudence
necessary, for the faint light showed the fresh prints of innumerable
pony hoofs on every side. They were close on Machpealota's lurking
braves. Which would see the other first?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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