To The Front Part 9

"Your name is Nolan, I think," said a man from the Denver. "We've heard of you. s.h.i.+ner's boy is better, though still weak. You mustn't feel we left you to s.h.i.+ft for yourselves up there. Our men were all out, and we didn't know how soon they'd be swooping on us. 'Twasn't until last night it was generally known that you were back, and that you and your friends were what saved c.a.w.ker and the Silver s.h.i.+eld yesterday. How's _he_?"

"c.a.w.ker? Oh, c.a.w.ker's probably about got dinner ready for you gentlemen by this time. If you are sure about s.h.i.+ner we won't go down."

"Go down? Why, Nolan, they'd murder you!"

But there came a sudden shot, and then a shout, from somewhere uphill.

On the edge of the dump a man was eagerly waving his hat, pointing away to the northeast along the ma.s.sive slope of the mountain.

"Well, Mr. Fireman," said Nolan, "I guess we'll have to go back. But you are sure about s.h.i.+ner, are you?"--this again to the visitors, as he persisted in calling them. "Well, come right along up and see the old man himself. Dinner ought to be ready now."

But, once back at the buildings, Nolan left to c.a.w.ker and his guard the pleasure of receiving the crowd from across the creek. He and Geordie were needed at once at the lookout on top of the office, the little tower above which fluttered the flag. Down on the platform anxious faces were upturned, for the sentry had seen a countless throng of men, so he said, coming over from Miners' Joy. To c.a.w.ker and his fellows it meant but one thing: The miners in the northward valley, more numerous than these along Lance Creek, reinforced, probably, by a swarm of the idlers from Hatch's Cove, were coming to the aid of their friends and fellow-countrymen in the strike at Silver s.h.i.+eld.

For two miles out the road from the village meandered up a winding ravine, then went twisting and turning along the eastward face of the mountain until it dipped out of sight over the ma.s.sive divide. Down in the depths of the gorge little dots of men could be seen hurrying away up the trail as though going to meet the coming concourse. Away out along the mountain-side not to exceed three or four vehicles and a scant dozen of hors.e.m.e.n could dimly be made out, crawling slowly southward, coming gingerly towards them. Where, then, was the "countless throng"?

"They were in sight on yonder ridge," said the lookout, "not ten minutes ago. They must be hiding in the hollows, waiting for the others to catch up," whereupon Nolan, looking daggers, had called him a scarehead, and Geordie shouted for c.a.w.ker's gla.s.s. It was sent up the stairway in less than a minute and focussed on Porphyry Point, a ma.s.sive b.u.t.tress overhanging the farther valley. For long seconds Geordie steadied the binocular against the staff and peered silently through. At last he said: "Some riders and two or three livery-rigs are coming, but I see no men afoot." Then, turning over his shoulder to c.a.w.ker, standing in the midst of his friends and fellow-managers, and looking eagerly aloft, he called: "Better have dinner now, if it's ready. It will take 'em an hour to get here."

"Who is that young fellow, anyhow?" asked Townsend, of the Vanguard Mine, and the ears of a score of men awaited the answer.

"That young feller," said c.a.w.ker, in low tone, and impressively, "was a stranger to every one here, except old Nolan and s.h.i.+ner, just twenty-four hours ago. Now there ain't one of 'em but swears by him. I don't know him from Adam, and Nolan won't tell, but, gentlemen--that young feller's a dandy!"

And this of a youth in grimy cap, flannels, and overalls, with a pair of smouched soldier gauntlets hiding the white of his hands, and a coating of coal-dust and smudge hiding all but the clear, healthy white of his eyes!

But an hour later came at least partial enlightenment. Picking their way, afoot and a few in saddle, welcomed by shouts from the lately besieged, and escorted by a deputation sent forward to meet them, there began to arrive certain citizens well known to the neighborhood by name and reputation.

There was the sheriff of Yampah, with a small squad of deputies. There was the mayor of Argenta, a director in the mines, and with him, puffing prodigiously and slowly up the ramp from the wagon-road, two brother directors away out from Denver. There were certain prominent citizens of Argenta and Hatch's Cove. There were certain railway men, with men and tools at their back and no time to waste. There were two men in civilian dress whom many a man of Silver Run knew for soldiers at once, for as such had they known them before--Captain Lee and Quartermaster McCrea of the old --th Cavalry--and there had been a remarkable meeting and hand-shaking between them and Nolan, and a whispered confabulation, at the end of which the two dove into the office building where s.h.i.+ner still lay, comforted by better news of his boy, by good surgical aid, and by a skilful and competent nurse who, for more than one reason, preferred to keep out of sight for the time being. There had been a face-to-face meeting between sergeant and sheriff when Nolan came forth from a rapturous scene at old s.h.i.+ner's bedside. But this time the sheriff looked sheepish, and there was no talk of arrest. Young Breifogle, it seems, would not die of his wounds. One of the culprits had "split" and the real a.s.sailants were known.

And there had been a fine shower of congratulation on c.a.w.ker for his heroic defence and determined stand against tremendous odds, and the three magnates present of Silver s.h.i.+eld had begun with much unction to talk of reward and appreciation, and very probably c.a.w.ker felt both heroic and deserving, and quite ready to accept all credit and pay, but there were too many witnesses, too many wise men, too many suggestive smiles and snickers and audible remarks, and c.a.w.ker had sense to see and then to rise manfully to the occasion.

"We did the best we knew how, gentlemen," said he, "but I am bound to say Silver s.h.i.+eld would have been in ruins this minute, and most of us dead, if it hadn't been for Nolan--the man you ordered thrown out."

There was a silence almost dramatic for a moment.

"Who ordered him thrown out?" asked Mr. Stoner, of Denver.

"The directors, sir, unless young Mr. Breifogle lied. These men are my witnesses."

And the answer came straightway.

"No such orders were given by the board. If Mr. Breifogle gave them, they were his alone."

Whereupon a shout went up that shook the roof. But the end was not yet.

Nolan was dragged forward to be grasped by the hand and smothered with congratulations, and old Nolan, in turn, would have none of it. A dozen men had seized Geordie Graham, even as his cla.s.smates and comrades had chaired him a few weeks back at the Point, and black, grimy, and protesting, he was heaved forward and deposited in front of the astonished trio. But the shout that went up from all sides was significant. Lee and McCrea were shouting, too.

"More heroes?" asked Mr. Stoner, wide-eyed and uncomprehending.

"Well--er, Nolan, they told us on the way over that there must be a hundred soldiers here."

"That's about right, sir," grinned Nolan; then, reaching forth, he laid a hand lightly on Graham's broad shoulder, "and here stands--most of 'em."

CHAPTER XIII

AWAY ON THE WARPATH

And all these chapters it has taken to tell how it came about that Second Lieutenant George Montrose Graham was quite a celebrity in the --th Cavalry before ever he reported for duty with his troop. Several weeks the Silver s.h.i.+eld Mining Company spent in a squabble among themselves that ended in the smothering of "the Breifogle interest,"

and came near to sending "the Boss of Argenta" to jail. Several days elapsed before Captain Lee and Lieutenants McCrea and Graham felt it entirely prudent to leave, but when they did it was with the a.s.surance that stockholders who had endured to the end, as had Graham, Lee, and McCrea, were now to reap the reward of their tenacity.

It is a recorded fact that, within three weeks after the departure of McCrea and Geordie from West Point for the West, there came an offer to Dr. Graham of something like six times the cost price of his shares, and the offer was declined, with thanks.

It is a recorded fact that Silver s.h.i.+eld was reorganized within the summer, to the end that the controlling interest pa.s.sed from Colorado to Chicago.

It is a recorded fact that, from afar out in the Rockies, there came to Lieutenant Colonel Hazzard, Commandant of Cadets, a "wire" that puzzled him not a little until he laid it before his clear-headed wife, who gave him a delighted kiss and scurried away to show it to Mrs. Graham.

It read:

"You win. I lose; and, losing, am a heavy winner."

For Bonner had supplied the money that paid for much of that costly plant, most of which would have gone up in smoke and down in ruin could the mob have had its way. Bonner himself had rushed out to Denver at news of the trouble. Bonner sent for c.a.w.ker and Nolan, and others of the employes, and learned for himself how things had been going, and was not too civil to Stoner and his Denver colleagues. Bonner, a director in the Transcontinental, heard from Anthony and Cullin all about the young fireman they spirited up to the mines, and the elder Breifogle had to hear how that young fireman cared for the battered son and heir, after his "beating up" at the fists and feet of the rioters, and if Breifogle bore no love for the Grahams, he at least loved his own.

It is a recorded fact that old s.h.i.+ner got well of his wound after many long weeks, and his brave boy in much shorter time, and that both were handsomely rewarded. c.a.w.ker came in for a good thing by way of a raise, but it was Long Nolan whom Bonner and the magnates set on a pinnacle--Long Nolan, and, as Nolan would have it, Nolan's young commander.

It is a matter of record that when Captain Lee went back to the regiment he congratulated Lane, for one thing, on having held on to his stocks--almost the only one at Reno who did--and, for another, on having such a youngster for second lieutenant. "He has won his spurs,"

said Lee, "before ever he donned his uniform." And there was rejoicing in the regiment over Lee's description of events, for five of the younger officers, graduated within three years, knew "Pops" in his cadet days and remembered him well; and all of the old officers who had served at Camp Sandy and at Fort Reynolds knew him in babyhood, or boyhood, or both. So did most of the veteran troopers.

And it is a matter of record that, on the eastward way again, both McCrea and Geordie dined with Mr. Bonner at the Chicago Club, and the new major-general commanding the military division graciously accepted Bonner's bid to be one of the dinner-party, and took Geordie aside after coffee had been served, noting that the silent young fellow neither smoked nor touched his wine, and asked him a few questions about the Point and many about the mines, and at parting the general was so good as to express the wish that when Geordie came out to join in September he would stop and see him, all of which was very flattering to a young fellow just out of cadet gray, and Geordie, as in duty bound, said that he certainly would, little dreaming how soon--how very soon--he and the old regiment would be riding hard under the lead of that hard-riding leader, and facing a foe led by warriors true and tried--a foe any ten of whom could have made mince-meat of ten times their number of such foemen as Graham had met at the mines.

How could they, the brave young cla.s.s, have dreamed, that exquisite June day of their graduation, that within six months some of their number were destined to do desperate battle with a desperate band of the braves of the allied Sioux in the Bad Lands of South Dakota?

For it is also a matter of record that Lieutenant and Quartermaster McCrea made application, as he had promised, for six months' leave of absence, with permission to go beyond sea, and with every intention of spending most of the winter in sunny Italy. But he spent it in saddle and snowdrift, in scout and skirmish, and in at least one sharp, stinging, never-to-be-forgotten battle with the combined bands of the Sioux, and came within an ace of losing his life as well as his leave, for many a brave soldier and savage warrior fell in that bitter fight--Geordie Graham's maiden battle. Little wonder he hopes he may never see another like it.

And it all came about as such affairs have so often occurred in the past. Unheeded warnings, unnoted threats, unpunished outbreaks, that experienced soldiers about the reservation could readily understand, and foretell what was coming, and make their own individual preparations for the inevitable. But nothing they could report to superiors would shake the serene confidence of the Department of the Interior in the pacific purposes of its red children, the wards of the nation. All along in the summer and the early autumn the "ghost-dance"

had been spreading from tribe to tribe, the war drum had been thumping in the villages, the Indian messiah, a transparent fraud, as all might see, wandered unrebuked from band to band--half a dozen messiahs, in fact--and along in September, instead of Geordie Graham's best-loved chum and cla.s.smate, Connell, of the Engineers, there came to the Point a letter from that young officer, that Graham received with rejoicing, read with troubled eyes, and for the first time in his life kept from his mother. There came a time, later still, when there were many letters to be kept from her, but those sorrowful days were not as yet.

This letter, however, he could not bring himself to show her, for it told of things she had been dreading to hear ever since the papers began telling of the ghost-dancing on the plains. It read:

"PECATONICA, WISCONSIN, _September 5th._

"DEAR POPS,--I fully intended to be with you to spend a week as promised, before joining at Willett's Point, but you are more likely to be spending that week with me. I am just back from a run to the Black Hills with father. He has some property about Deadwood. Returning, I stopped two days at Fort Niobrara, as the guest of 'Sampson' Stone, whose troop is stationed there, and I tell you it was interesting. He took me up to the reservation, and I had my first look at the Sioux on their native heath, and saw for myself how peaceful they are.

Everybody at the agency is scared stiff. Every officer at the fort, from the colonel down, is convinced that war is coming.

The governor of Nebraska has been up looking after the settlers and ranch folk and warning them away. General Miles has an officer there watching the situation. From him I heard that your regiment is to be sent to the field at once to march northward; that other troops are warned, and I suppose you'll be joining somewhere on the way. But the row, when it comes, will break out north of the Niobrara, and the --th may not get there in time.

"Stone says if you want a taste of the real thing, to apply for orders to report for duty to the commanding officer at Fort Niobrara until the arrival of your regiment. I have begged the Chief of Engineers to let me have a few weeks in the field with General Miles, and am a.s.sured that the general will apply for me. Not that I can be of any value as Engineer Officer, but just to get the experience, and perhaps see what we've been reading of a dozen years--a real Indian campaign. Now, old man, you know that country. You were there as a boy. _You_ could be of use. Why not ask for orders at once? Then we can push out via Sioux City together. I know how the mother will protest, especially since she was robbed of three precious weeks in July; but, isn't it the chance of a lifetime? Isn't this what we are for, after all? Wire decision. Yours as ever,

"CONNELL."

"Good old Badger," murmured Geordie. "He always was right." Then that letter went to an inner pocket, and for the first time in his life, with something to conceal from her, George Graham turned to his mother.

It was a beautiful September evening. The gray-and-white battalion had just formed for parade. The throng of spectators lined the roadway in front of the superintendent's quarters, and with that proud mother clinging as usual to his arm, with that ominous letter in the breast of his sack-coat, so close that her hand by a mere turn of the wrist could touch it, George Graham stood silently beside her as she chatted happily with Mrs. Hazzard. Not ten feet distant, leaning on a cane, was an officer lamed for life and permanently retired from service because of a desperate wound received in savage warfare. With him, eagerly talking, was a regimental comrade who had survived the b.l.o.o.d.y day on the Little Big Horn, and he was telling of things he had seen and men whom he had met, men whose names were famous among the Sioux and were now on the lips of the nation at large. Foremost of these was the old-time enemy of every white man, long the leader of the most powerful band that ever disputed the dominion of the West, Tatanka Iyotanka--Sitting Bull.