THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by COLONEL HENRY INMAN (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

          The March In a Circle, With The Village In the Centre,

          The Commanding Officer Of Each Rear Troop Halting His

          Command At The Proper Point, And Deploying His Men Similarly

          To A Line Of Skirmishers--The Entire Circle, When Thus Formed,

          Facing Toward The Village, And, Distant From It Perhaps A

          Few Hundred yards.  No Sooner Was Our Line Completely Formed

          Than The Moon, As If Deeming Darkness No Longer Essential

          To Our Success, Appeared from Behind Her Screen And Lighted

          Up The Entire Scene.  And Beautiful It Was!  The Great

          Circle Of Troops, Each Individual Of Which Sat On His Steed

          Silent As A Statue, The Dense Foliage Of The Cotton Trees

          Sheltering The Bleached, Skin-Clad Lodges Of The Red men,

          The Little Stream In the Midst Murmuring Undisturbedly In

          Its Channel, All Combined to Produce An Artistic Effect,

          As Striking as It Was Interesting.  But We Were Not There

          To Study Artistic Effects.  The Next Step Was To Determine

          Whether We Had Captured an Inhabited village, Involving

          Almost Necessarily A Severe Conflict With Its Savage

          Occupants, Or Whether The Red man Had Again Proven Too

          Wily And Crafty For His More Civilized brothers.

          Directing The Entire Line Of Troopers To Remain Mounted

          With Carbines Held At The "Advance," I Dismounted, And

          Taking With Me Gurrier, The Half-Breed, Dr. Coates, One Of

          Our Medical Staff, And Lieutenant Moylan, The Adjutant,

          We Proceeded on Our Hands And Knees Toward The Village.

          The Prevailing Opinion Was That The Indians Were Still

          Asleep.  I Desired to Approach Near Enough To The Lodges

          To Enable The Half-Breed to Hail The Village In the Indian

          Tongue, And If Possible Establish Friendly Relations At Once.

          It Became A Question Of Prudence With Us, Which We Discussed

          In whispers As We Proceeded on Our "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,

          The Boys Are Creeping," How Far From Our Horses And How

          Near To The Village We Dared to Go.  If So Few Of Us Were

          Discovered entering The Village In this Questionable Manner,

          It Was More Than Probable That, Like The Returners Of Stolen

          Property, We Should Be Suitably Rewarded and No Questions

          Asked.  The Opinion Of Gurrier, The Half-Breed, Was Eagerly

          Sought For And Generally Deferred to.  His Wife,

          A Full-Blooded cheyenne, Was A Resident Of The Village.

          This With Him Was An Additional Reason For Wishing a Peaceful

          Termination To Our Efforts.  When We Had Passed over

          Two-Thirds Of The Distance Between Our Horses And The

          Village, It Was Thought Best To Make Our Presence Known.

          Thus Far Not A Sound Had Been Heard To Disturb The Stillness

          Of The Night.  Gurrier Called out At The Top Of His Voice

          In the Cheyenne Tongue.  The Only Response Came From The

          Throats Of A Score Or More Of Indian Dogs Which Set Up A

          Fierce Barking.  At The Same Time One Or Two Of Our Party

          Asserted that They Saw Figure Moving Beneath The Trees.

          Gurrier Repeated his Summons, But With No Better Results

          Than Before.

          A Hurried consultation Ensued.  The Presence Of So Many Dogs

          In the Village Was Regarded by The Half-Breed as Almost

          Positive Assurance That The Indians Were Still There.

          Yet It Was Difficult To Account For Their Silence.  Gurrier

          In a Loud Tone Repeated who He Was, And That Our Mission Was

          Friendly.  Still No Answer.  He Then Gave It As His Opinion

          That The Indians Were On The Alert, And Were Probably

          Waiting In the Shadow Of The Trees For Us To Approach Nearer,

          When They Would Pounce Upon Us.  This Comforting Opinion

          Induced another Conference.  We Must Ascertain The Truth Of

          The Matter; Our Party Could Do This As Well As A Larger

          Number, And To Go Back And Send Another Party In our Stead

          Could Not Be Thought Of.

          Forward! Was The Verdict.  Each One Grasped his Revolver,

          Resolved to Do His Best, Whether It Was In running Or

          Fighting.  I Think Most Of Us Would Have Preferred to Take

          Our Own Chances At Running.  We Had Approached near Enough

          To See That Some Of The Lodges Were Detached some Distance

          From The Main Encampment.  Selecting The Nearest Of These,

          We Directed our Advance On It.  While All Of Us Were Full

          Of The Spirit Of Adventure, And Were Further Encouraged

          With The Idea That We Were In the Discharge Of Our Duty,

          There Was Scarcely One Of Us Who Would Not Have Felt More

          Comfortable If We Could Have Got Back To Our Horses Without

          Loss Of Pride.  Yet Nothing, Under The Circumstances, But

          A Positive Order Would Have Induced any One To Withdraw.

          Cautiously Approaching, On All Fours, To Within A Few Yards

          Of The Nearest Lodge, Occasionally Halting and Listening To

          Discover Whether The Village Was Deserted or Not, We Finally

          Decided that The Indians Had Fled before The Arrival Of The

          Cavalry, And That None But Empty Lodges Were Before Us.

          This Conclusion Somewhat Emboldened as Well As Accelerated

          Our Progress.  Arriving at The First Lodge, One Of Our Party

          Raised the Curtain Or Mat Which Served as A Door, And The

          Doctor And Myself Entered.  The Interior Of The Lodge Was

          Dimly Lighted by The Dying Embers Of A Small Fire Built In

          The Centre.  All Around Us Were To Be Seen The Usual

          Adornments And Articles Which Constitute The Household

          Effects Of An Indian Family.  Buffalo-Robes Were Spread Like

          Carpets Over The Floor; Head-Mats, Used to Recline On, Were

          Arranged as If For The Comfort Of Their Owners; Parfleches,

          A Sort Of Indian Band-Box, With Their Contents Apparently

          Undisturbed, Were Carefully Stowed away Under The Edges Or

          Borders Of The Lodge.  These, With The Door-Mats, Paint-Bags,

          Rawhide Ropes, And Other Articles Of Indian Equipment,

          Were Left As If The Owners Had Only Absented themselves For

          A Brief Period.  To Complete The Picture Of An Indian Lodge,

          Over The Fire Hung A Camp-Kettle, In which, By Means Of The

          Dim Light Of The Fire, We Could See What Had Been Intended

          For The Supper Of The Late Occupants Of The Lodge.

          The Doctor, Ever On The Alert To Discover Additional Items

          Of Knowledge, Whether Pertaining To History Or Science,

          Snuffed the Savoury Odours Which Arose From The Dark

          Recesses Of The Mysterious Kettle.  Casting about The Lodge

          For Some Instrument To Aid Him In his Pursuit Of Knowledge,

          He Found A Horn Spoon, With Which He Began His Investigation

          Of The Contents, Finally Succeeding In getting Possession

          Of A Fragment Which Might Have Been The Half Of A Duck Or

          Rabbit, Judging From Its Size Merely.  "Ah!" Said The Doctor,

          In his Most Complacent Manner, "Here Is The Opportunity I

          Have Long Been Waiting For.  I Have Often Desired to Test

          The Indian Mode Of Cooking.  What Do You Suppose This Is?"

          Holding Up The Dripping Morsel.  Unable To Obtain The

          Desired information, The Doctor, Whose Naturally Good

          Appetite Had Been Sensibly Sharpened by His Recent Exercise,

          Set To With A Will And Ate Heartily Of The Mysterious

          Contents Of The Kettle.  He Was Only Satisfied on One Point,

          That It Was Delicious--A Dish Fit For A King.  Just Then

          Gurrier, The Half-Breed, Entered the Lodge.  He Could Solve

          The Mystery, Having Spent Years Among The Indians.  To Him

          The Doctor Appealed for Information.  Fishing Out A Huge

          Piece, And Attacking It With The Voracity Of A Hungry Wolf,

          He Was Not Long In determining What The Doctor Had Supped

          Heartily Upon.  His First Words Settled the Mystery: "Why,

          This Is Dog."  I Will Not Attempt To Repeat The Few But

          Emphatic Words Uttered by The Heartily Disgusted member Of

          The Medical Fraternity As He Rushed from The Lodge.

          Other Members Of Our Small Party Had Entered other Lodges,

          Only To Find Them, Like The First, Deserted.  But Little Of

          The Furniture Belonging To The Lodges Had Been Taken,

          Showing How Urgent And Hasty Had Been The Flight Of The

          Owners.  To Aid In the Examination Of The Village,

          Reinforcements Were Added to Our Party, And An Exploration

          Of Each Lodge Was Determined upon.  At The Same Time A

          Messenger Was Despatched to General Hancock, Informing Him

          Of The Flight Of The Indians.  Some Of The Lodges Were

          Closed by Having Brush Or Timber Piled up Against The

          Entrance, As If To Preserve The Contents.  Others Had Huge

          Pieces Cut From Their Sides, These Pieces Evidently Being

          Carried away To Furnish Temporary Shelter For The Fugitives.

          In most Of The Lodges The Fires Were Still Burning.  I Had

          Entered several Without Discovering anything Important.

          Finally, In company With The Doctor, I Arrived at One The

          Interior Of Which Was Quite Dark, The Fire Having almost

          Died out.  Procuring a Lighted fagot, I Prepared to Explore It,

          As I Had Done The Others; But No Sooner Had I Entered the

          Lodge Than My Fagot Failed me, Leaving Me In total Darkness.

          Handing It To The Doctor To Be Relighted, I Began To Feel

          My Way About The Interior Of The Lodge.  I Had Almost Made

          The Circuit When My Hand Came In contact With A Human Foot;

          At The Same Time A Voice Unmistakably Indian, And Which

          Evidently Came From The Owner Of The Foot, Convinced me That

          I Was Not Alone.  My First Impressions Were That In their

          Hasty Flight The Indians Had Gone Off, Leaving This One

          Asleep.  My Next, Very Naturally, Related to Myself.

          I Would Gladly Have Placed myself On The Outside Of The

          Lodge, And There Matured plans For Interviewing Its Occupant;

          But Unfortunately To Reach The Entrance Of The Lodge, I Must

          Either Pass Over Or Around The Owner Of The Before-Mentioned

          Foot And Voice.  Could I Have Been Convinced that Among

          Its Other Possessions There Was Neither Tomahawk Nor

          Scalping-Knife, Pistol Nor War-Club, Or Any Similar Article

          Of The Noble Red-Man'S Toilet, I Would Have Risked an Attempt

          To Escape Through The Low Narrow Opening Of The Lodge;

          But Who Ever Saw An Indian Without One Or All Of These

          Interesting Trinkets?  Had I Made The Attempt, I Should

          Have Expected to Encounter Either The Keen Edge Of The

          Scalping-Knife Or The Blow Of The Tomahawk, And To Have

          Engaged in a Questionable Struggle For Life.  This Would

          Not Do.  I Crouched in silence For A Few Moments, Hoping

          The Doctor Would Return With The Lighted fagot.  I Need not

          Say That Each Succeeding Moment Spent In the Darkness Of

          That Lodge Seemed an Age.  I Could Hear A Slight Movement

          On The Part Of My Unknown Neighbour, Which Did Not Add To

          My Comfort.  Why Does Not The Doctor Return?  At Last I

          Discovered the Approach Of A Light On The Outside.  When It

          Neared the Entrance, I Called the Doctor And Informed him

          That An Indian Was In the Lodge, And That He Had Better

          Have His Weapons Ready For A Conflict.  I Had, Upon

          Discovering The Foot, Drawn My Hunting-Knife From Its

          Scabbard, And Now Stood Waiting The Denouement.  With His

          Lighted fagot In one Hand And Cocked revolver In the Other,

          The Doctor Cautiously Entered the Lodge.  And There Directly

          Between Us, Wrapped in a Buffalo-Robe, Lay The Cause Of My

          Anxiety--A Little Indian Girl, Probably Ten Years Old;

          Not A Full-Blood, But A Half-Breed.  She Was Terribly

          Frightened at Finding Herself In our Hands, With None Of

          Her People Near.  Other Parties In exploring The Deserted

          Village Found An Old, Decrepit Indian Of The Sioux Tribe,

          Who Had Also Been Deserted, Owing To His Infirmities And

          Inability To Travel With The Tribe.  Nothing Was Gleaned

          From Our Search Of The Village Which Might Indicate The

          Direction Of The Flight.  General Hancock, On Learning The

          Situation Of Affairs, Despatched some Companies Of Infantry

          With Orders To Replace The Cavalry And Protect The Village

          And Its Contents From Disturbance Until Its Final Disposition

          Could Be Determined upon, And It Was Decided that With Eight

          Troops Of Cavalry I Should Start In pursuit Of The Indians

          At Early Dawn On The Following Morning.

          The Indians,