Читать книгу Buffalo Bill Among the Sioux; Or, The Fight in the Rapids - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 4

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The officer in charge of the fort was a colonel named Mathers, who had had much experience in Indian fighting, and had taken part in several campaigns with Buffalo Bill and Hickok.

As Wild Bill entered his quarters, he rose from his chair and grasped him heartily by the hand.

“Thank Heaven, they didn’t get you, Bill!” the officer exclaimed. “I saw them through my field glasses chasing after you, and I immediately ordered out the men, but the outposts had done the work already.

“We shall need you badly before this business is over, for it looks as if it is going to be one of the most serious Indian wars we have had for years. You did not find it possible to get through to Fort Hays?” he concluded.

“I believe I could have got through,” Hickok replied. “I guess I could have ridden round the Injuns, and maybe got to Fort Hays all right. But it occurred to me that this fort might get surprised and rushed if ye didn’t know the Injuns had broken out at last.”

The commandant nodded his approval. If Wild Bill had been a soldier, he would have expected him to carry the message without exercising his own individual judgment. But a noted scout like Hickok was expected to think for himself, weigh the situation, and act for the best accordingly. That, indeed, was the very reason of his employment.

“Could you tell me who the Indians were—what tribes they belonged to?” the colonel asked.

“Yes, of course; I took care to find that out,” Wild Bill replied, almost in an injured tone of voice. “I waited till they got near enough so as I could find out from their feathers and war paint. They was mostly Sioux, but there was a few Cheyennes and Crows, and I shot an ’Pache. He was the only one in the bunch, so fur as I could see.”

“Then there has been an alliance made between the tribes, and we will have to meet the attack of a strong confederacy,” muttered the commandant.

He rang a bell and an orderly entered the room, saluted him, and stood at attention.

“Ask Colonel Cody to oblige me by stepping in here for a moment,” the colonel said.

The soldier left the room, and in a few moments returned, announcing the famous king of scouts, Buffalo Bill.

He had been making a tour of inspection to see that the horses of the soldiers were in good shape, and that all necessary preparations had been made for a long ride and a hard campaign, if the need should arise.

The famous frontiersman was an even more striking and handsome figure than his friend Hickok. At this time he was in the zenith of his vigorous manhood.

It was only a short time before that he had earned his sobriquet of Buffalo Bill by shooting a record number of buffaloes to supply fresh meat for the workmen engaged in the construction of the Kansas Pacific Railway.

Every line of his face and every movement of his body showed force, courage, and determination such as are rarely seen even among the bravest men.

The border king greeted his friend Hickok warmly, and said:

“So they couldn’t get you, old pard! I wish I’d been with you to help you put up a little bit of a fight.”

The colonel briefly explained the position, and Cody was not surprised to hear that several tribes had joined in the rising.

“The Sioux are at the bottom of it,” he said. “Unless we strike hard and swiftly, the rising will spread not only over Kansas, but over all the territory round about.

“I received a message from my friend and blood brother, Red Cloud, the war chief of the Navahos, only two days ago. He sent one of his braves to tell me that the Sioux had sent their messenger even down into New Mexico to try to persuade the Navahos to join with them in a grand uprising against the whites.

“Red Cloud is a good friend to us, and he promised me once that whenever his tribe had trouble with the government he would send to me, and get me to help him straighten it out without war.

“He tells me now that some of his young men want to dig up the hatchet. He is doing his best, with the help of the old men, to keep them back; but he wants me to come to him.

“I think I’d better go, for if the Navahos join the rest the matter will become very much more serious even than it is now.”

The colonel nodded his head, but remarked:

“You will be putting your head in the lion’s mouth, Cody. You will probably arrive there just about the time the bucks are doing their war dance and putting on their war paint. The peacemaker generally has a hard time of it, and if you ask them to bury the hatchet they are very likely to bury it in your own skull.”

“Of course, that is the risk one is always taking in this business,” replied the border king, laughing lightly, “but I know the Navahos, and they like me pretty well. I had the good luck once to help them save their chief, Red Cloud, from some dangerous enemies.”

The colonel rested his head on his hand, and was absorbed in thought for a few moments. Then he straightened up, and said, with decision:

“Go to the Navahos, and Heaven send that you reach them safely and persuade them not to dig up the hatchet! But first I must have a message sent through to Fort Hays. Maybe they are not on their guard at that post, and even if they are I must let the commandant there know my plans, so that we can work out a joint plan of campaign.

“I have five hundred brave men in this fort, but there is not one among them whom I can trust to take this message when thousands of hostile Indians are riding over the country.

“I know they would all do their best, but there would not be a chance in a thousand of any one of them getting through.

“I can only trust that message to you two men, for you will know how to dodge the enemy as no other would.”

The two scouts immediately signified their desire to make the dangerous trip.

“I think you had better go together,” said the colonel, “for the carrying of the message is vital for the success of our plans.

“I want the commandant at Fort Hays to march to meet me at Fork River, about midway between the two forts. He must not only leave enough men to garrison his fort, but bring along all that can be spared to join my force.

“It is no use for us to skulk behind walls and let the Indians ravage the country as they like. We must strike at them swiftly, even if they do outnumber us by ten to one. That is the only way to nip the rising in the bud.”

Cody applauded this brave resolution, for his knowledge of Indian character told him that the colonel was perfectly right.

“We will saddle our horses and ride at once,” he said, rising to leave the room.

“No, don’t go until after dark,” urged the officer. “You will have a much better chance of getting through then, and it is better to delay a few hours than run the risk of not having the message delivered at all.”

The border king agreed, and the colonel then took up a dispatch which was lying on the table beside him, and asked:

“Do you know anything of a man named Hunky Kennelly? He is known among the Sioux, I am told, by the name of Bad Eye.”

Wild Bill shook his head, but Cody replied:

“I heard of the man a few months ago, when I was doing some hunting in Wyoming. He is an Irishman, and a disgrace to his country. He killed a man in St. Louis, and had to flee from justice.

“I understand he married a Sioux girl in Red Dog, one of the border settlements in Wyoming, and then joined the Sioux tribe, being made a member of one of their clans.”

“Yes, that is the man,” said the commandant. “I am told in this dispatch from Washington that a native spy reports he is the leader in this movement. He has stirred up the Sioux, and through them the other tribes.

“He is said to be a man of gigantic stature and terrible ferocity. They tell me, too, that he possesses extraordinary cunning and military skill, for he was once an officer in the army. He had to leave because he stole money belonging to his regiment.”

“I should say that he is a man to be reckoned with,” observed Buffalo Bill. “I have found that Indians fight better, as a general rule, when they are led by a white renegade.”

“Durn my cats! but I hope I get a chance for a shot at him!” exclaimed Wild Bill.

The three men then left the quarters, and made the round of the fort to see that all was in readiness to repel the attack which they knew might come at any moment.

Several settlers from the country round about had already come into the fort with their wives and families, and such of their household goods as they could move, for the news of the Indian rising had already begun to spread.

The men among the newcomers were all tough frontiersmen, fine riders, and good shots; and Buffalo Bill saw that they would form a valuable addition to the regular troops who garrisoned the fort.

After they had seen that all was in order, the colonel and the two scouts chatted with the fugitive settlers, and found that they were all eager for a fight with the Indians at the earliest possible moment.

They were all true-blue Americans, who hated to be on the defensive when a fight was in prospect.

They discussed the situation, and there was not a man who did not seem convinced that the Indians would get the worst of it before long.

Several of the settlers denounced the redskins in unmeasured terms, saying that hanging and shooting were too good for “sech varmints.”

“The durned skunks hev got every reason ter be grateful to us,” said one old man, “but there ain’t an ounce of gratitude in their natoors. We give ’em lands and huntin’ grounds, and don’t trouble ’em anyways; but whenever they see a chance they want to scalp us and lift our cattle.”

“I don’t think all Indians are vermin,” said Buffalo Bill. “I have met some pretty good ones. And I don’t think they are all ungrateful, either, for I’ve known some, at least, who were as grateful as any white man could be.”