Boys of The Fort: or, A Young Captain's Pluck

"All right, Benson," was the answer. "But who is that behind you?"

"Joe Moore and Darry Germain. Is the colonel sleeping?"

"The colonel is very sick."

"Sick?"

"Yes."

"What's the trouble?"

"The surgeon can't make out exactly. He's in a sort of stupor, and they can't rouse him."

By this time the stockade gate was open, and all three of our friends lost no time in entering the yard. Then the gate was closed and barred again.

"Has Captain Moore returned?" asked Joe, as soon as he could get the guard's attention.

"I haven't seen him."

"How long have you been on duty?"

"Came on about an hour ago."

"Has Lieutenant Carrol come in?" came from Benson.

"Not that I know of; reckon not," answered the guard.

"Worse and worse!" groaned the old scout. "Who is in command here?"

"Captain Lee. But he's about half sick, too."

"It's a trick of the enemy!" cried Darry.

"A trick?" queried the guard with interest.

"Yes, a trick," put in Joe. "Benson, hadn't they better sound the alarm?"

"Yes, and I'll interview Captain Lee."

No more was said, and, while the sentinel called the corporal of the guard, the old scout hurried off to find the captain in command. With him went Joe and Darry. Joe's heart was like a lump of lead, for he was much concerned over the non-appearance of his brother. Had the captain met the Indians and been killed or taken prisoner?

Captain Lee was in a sound sleep, but quickly roused up when told that an important message awaited him. He met the party in one of the living rooms of the fort. His head was tied up in a wet towel, and his eyes showed that he was suffering.

"This is certainly a deep-laid plot," he said, when all had told their story. "The desperadoes and Indians intend to combine in an attack on the fort. Mose is undoubtedly that wily old half-breed who is still alive and who is very thick with White Ox. But I didn't know he could write."

"But what about this money at the fort?" asked Joe.

"The money is here, in a chest that is hidden away. It amounts to forty thousand dollars in gold, and is the property of the Nevell Mining Company. It was left for safe-keeping until Mr. Nevell could have it transported to Denver. You see, Nevell is a brother-in-law to Colonel Fairfield."

"The colonel must be drugged," said Benson. "That's the reason he acts so queerly."

"I suppose so, and that is what has affected me, I presume," answered Captain Lee. "Last night my head ached as if it would split open. We must tell the surgeon of this. Perhaps he can then do something to relieve Colonel Fairfield."

The captain lost no time in issuing the necessary orders, and in a few minutes the whole place was in alarm and the soldiers were on the watch for the first appearance of the Indians.

"My poor husband drugged!" cried Mrs. Fairfield, when she heard the news. "What villains those Indians and desperadoes are! Doctor, can you do nothing?"

"I think I can, madam," answered the surgeon. "Much depends upon what drugs were administered and how much the colonel has taken. Rest assured I will do my best for him."

Upon examination it was found that out of all the officers at the fort only four were fit for duty, all the others being sick, either through being drugged or otherwise. Of the privates not more than sixty-five were in a condition to fight should an attack come.

"And the worst of it is, the men won't know what to eat or drink after this," said Captain Lee to Benson. "Who can tell what has been drugged? Perhaps it's in the very bread we eat and the water we drink."

Strict orders were given to the men to touch nothing until the surgeon had passed upon it. Then the doctor got out his medicines to counteract the drugs, and set to work to bring the colonel and the other sufferers out of their stupor.

Hour after hour went slowly by, and still Captain Moore did not return. What had become of his brother, Joe could not imagine. He feared the worst, and when morning came it was all he could do to keep back the tears.

"Don't take it so to heart, Joe," said Darry sympathetically. "It may be all right."

"But he said he was going to ride straight here – you heard him, Darry."

"So I did, but he may have seen the Indians or met Lieutenant Carrol, and that might have changed his plans. Anyway, I wouldn't worry too much just yet."

With the coming of daylight Captain Lee brought out his long-distance glass and swept the surroundings of the fort with extreme care.

"Some camp-fires are burning to the northward," he announced.

"Any Injuns?" questioned old Benson laconically. He had been told to come along to the top of the fort for consultation.

"Nobody in sight, Benson."

"Humph! Well, I don't calculate they are far off."

"Nor I, from what you and the boys told me. How long will it take those desperadoes to reach here?"

"They ought to arrive this morning, if they are not with the Injuns already."

"All told, we have about seventy officers and men available for duty," went on the captain thoughtfully. "What is worse, they must know how greatly our garrison is reduced, since they have had that skunk of a Mose do the drugging for them."

"The Injuns number over sixty, and if there are thirty desperadoes, that will give them a force of almost a hundred, or twice as many as we have, captain. But then, we hold the fort. They can't come anywhere near us without being cut down – if we set out to do it."

"Of course. But White Ox may send off for more Indians – when he hears how small the available garrison is."

"Does he know much of affairs here?"

"I am afraid he does. There were two Indians here yesterday, to lodge a complaint against a miner who had stolen a horse from them. I think, now, that the complaint was a blind, and the Indians were here merely to size up the situation," concluded Captain Lee.

CHAPTER XXII

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

Little dreaming of all the adventures in store for him, Captain Moore left the scene of the buffalo shooting and rode forth swiftly in the direction of Fort Carson.

He felt that he carried news of great importance and the sooner he gained the fort the better. Should anything happen to Colonel Fairfield the command of the post would fall upon himself, as next in rank.

As he dashed along the trail, over hill and valley, he reviewed the situation with care, and the more he thought of it, the more worried did he become.

"Something is going to happen – I can feel it in the air," he muttered.

The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when something did happen, but not exactly what he anticipated.

A shadow fell across his path, and as he drew rein he found himself confronted by several Indians.

"White officer, stop!" cried the leader of the red men sternly.

"Hullo! what do you want?" demanded the captain. The meeting was a complete surprise.

"Want to have a talk."

"Who are you?"

"Me Red Wolf, belong to White Ox tribe," returned the Indian with a scowl.

"And what are you doing out here at this time of night, Red Wolf?"

"Indians on a big hunt. See buffalo yesterday."

"Yes, I saw one of the buffaloes myself." Captain Moore paused, not knowing how to go on. "You are pretty close to the fort."

"Red Wolf and warriors get on the wrong trail," was the slow reply. "But want to talk now. Come along."

As the Indian concluded he caught the captain's steed by the bridle.

"Let go the horse."

"Want to talk to white officer."

"You haven't any right to touch my horse."

Hardly had the words been spoken when two Indians rushed up behind the captain and dragged him to the ground.

The fellows were large and powerful, and they disarmed him before he could even fire a shot.

Without further ado Captain Moore was forced to march along, between two of the red men, while a third led his horse.

A route around the rocks was taken, and presently they came to a dense bit of timberland. In the midst of this was a clearing, and here was the camp of some ten or a dozen Indians.

The Indians at hand were a guard over several white soldiers, and to his intense surprise the young captain recognized some of Lieutenant Carrol's men.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Had a mix-up and came off second best – " began one of the soldiers, when an Indian guard clapped a dirty hand over his mouth and ordered him to be silent, under penalty of death.

Then the captain was taken to another part of the glade, and here he was made a close prisoner by being bound, hands and feet, to the trunk of a blasted tree.

Red Wolf wished to know what the captain had been doing away from the fort.

"I've been on a hunting expedition."

"Alone?"

"No."

"Where are the others?"

"Safe, by this time. What do you intend to do with me, Red Wolf?"

"White Ox shall decide that," grunted the red man.

"Then he is on this hunt, too?"

"He is."

"When will he be here?"

"Soon."

"Don't you know that I am an army officer, and that you are laying up a good deal of trouble for yourself by making me a prisoner?"

"The white man has not treated the Indians right."

"This is no way to redress wrongs, Red Wolf. Why don't you go to Colonel Fairfield and make a complaint? He will send the story to the Great Father at Washington."

"The Great Father will not listen. We have sent many complaints – as the white captain knows."

"He will listen – if the complaint is a just one. The trouble is, the Indians will not obey Colonel Fairfield's orders."

"And why should they obey the white man? Is not White Ox their chief?"

"That is true. But the land is now the white man's, and the Indians must obey the Great Father at Washington, or in the end it will go hard with them."

"Not so!" cried Red Wolf savagely. "In the end the white man will be driven eastward, where he belongs. No one shall rule in these mountains but the red man. White Ox and the other great chiefs have spoken."

"What! you are going on the warpath?"

"The hatchet may be dug up, if the white man will not listen to the red man."

"I know what the trouble is, Red Wolf. Matt Gilroy and that scoundrelly half-breed, Mose, have set you up to this. They have filled your ears with false stories about our cruelty and about much money at the fort."

By the look on the Indian's face the young officer saw that he had struck the truth, at least in part.

But the red man would talk no more, fearing he had already said too much, and he stalked off, warning a guard to be careful and not let the captain escape.

When left to himself, Captain Moore's reflections were very bitter.

"If the redskins are out in force they'll probably fall in with Benson and the boys," he told himself. "And if they do there will surely be trouble. Benson won't allow them to take him alive, and that will mean a good deal of shooting all around."

He listened attentively for shots in the distance, but none came, and this caused him to be more perplexed than ever.

Just before daybreak several additional Indians came in, and the young officer and the soldiers were told to march. Their feet were unfastened, but their hands were not, and they were forced to move with the red men on all sides of them, and each of the enemy fully armed and ready to shoot them down at the first show of resistance or escape.

From one of the privates Captain Moore learned that Lieutenant Carrol and the other soldiers had escaped, but what had become of them nobody knew.

The little body of whites and Indians marched over a mountain trail for fully four hours. The step was a lively one, and when the party came to a halt even the soldiers used to a hard march were tired out.

"Those redskins can walk the legs off of anything I know of," was the way one old soldier expressed himself. "They are like some of these wiry mustangs who don't know the meaning of rest."

"This region is strange to me, Peck. Do you recognize it?"

"I do, Captain Moore. Yonder is Henebeck Fall, and this trail leads to Silver Gulch."

"Then we are about six miles from nowhere in particular."

"You've struck it, captain. Why they brought us to such a forsaken spot is more than I can guess – unless they are going to shoot us down like dogs and leave us for the wolves to feed on. The wolves are thick around here, so Leeson told me."

"I don't believe they'll shoot us down. They are not desperate enough yet. But they may do it, if they attack the fort and lose heavily. That will open their eyes, and make them as mad as hornets."

A little later Silver Gulch, a wide opening in the rocks of the mountain, was gained, and here the soldiers were again made fast to several trees. Then the Indians prepared their midday meal. They took their time about eating, and did not offer the white men anything until they had finished.

"They don't intend to treat us any too good," was Peck's comment. "Captain, can't we fix it to get away?"

"I intend to escape if I can manage it," returned the young officer. "But we must be careful, for they are fully armed, and they watch us like so many foxes."

Slowly the afternoon wore away, and with the coming of night it grew darker than usual, as though a storm was brewing.

"A storm ought to help us," said the captain.

Some of the Indians had departed, so that now the guard consisted of but four warriors. These red men walked around each prisoner, seeing to it that all the bonds were tight.

As the men passed Peck the old soldier watched his chance, and, unknown to the red men, caught a hunting-knife from the belt of one of the number.

This knife was concealed up his sleeve, and then the soldier waited for his chance to use the blade, which was as sharp as a razor.

The Indians decided that two of their number should sleep, while the other two remained on guard. Soon those to retire turned in, while the others sat down to smoke their pipes.

This was Peck's opportunity, and with a slash of the hunting-knife he released his hands. A moment later the lariat around his ankles was likewise severed.

Watching his chance, Peck passed the knife to Captain Moore, and then went back to his position by the tree as if still fastened.

Thus the knife was passed from soldier to soldier until all were liberated.

All told, the party numbered six, and nobody was armed, excepting Peck, to whom the hunting-knife had been returned.

Motioning to the others to keep quiet, Captain Moore picked up a stick of wood lying near and threw it in some bushes a distance away.

This made considerable noise, and instantly the two guards gazed in the direction.

"A wolf, perhaps," said one of the Indians, in his native tongue, and walked over to the bushes. His companion started to follow, when Captain Moore leaped upon him and bore him to the earth.

CHAPTER XXIII

A PANTHER IN CAMP

As Captain Moore fell upon one of the Indians, Peck the private stole after the guard who had walked toward the bushes. The other soldiers jumped to where the remaining Indians were sleeping, to gain possession of the firearms.

The Indian the captain had tackled was a young but powerful brave, and he put up a hard fight to release himself. But he had been taken unawares, and after he was on the ground the captain saw to it that he did not get up.

In the meantime the Indian near the bushes turned just in time to see Peck raise the hunting-knife. Crack! went the red man's rifle, and the bullet clipped the soldier's ear. The shot was so close that to the day of his death Peck carried in his face some traces of the burnt powder.

The shot was the last the Indian ever fired, for in the midst of the smoke Peck hurled himself at the warrior, and a second later down came the hunting-knife, piercing the red man's back and entering his right lung. The stroke was a fatal one, and before the fighting in the glade came to an end the Indian had breathed his last.

When the sleeping Indians awoke they could not for the moment realize what was going on. In his bewilderment one leaped up and rushed at a soldier, who promptly laid him low by a heavy blow from a rifle stock, which almost cracked the warrior's skull. Seeing this, the other brave became frightened and ran for the bushes.

"Don't let him escape!" cried Captain Moore, who was still holding his man down.

At once two of the soldiers ran after the fleeing Indian, and presently two rifle shots rang out, followed by a scream from the red man.

"He's done for," said one of the soldiers, after the smoke had cleared away. "He has gone to his happy hunting-ground."

After this turn of affairs it did not take the soldiers long to make prisoners of the two Indians who remained alive. These fellows were in truth much frightened, but tried their best to suppress their feelings.

From one of the Indians, Captain Moore learned that more Indians were expected early the next morning.

"That's all right," said he. "They will come in time to release you and save you from starvation."

"Going to tie 'em up, captain?" asked Peck.

"Yes. There is nothing else to do."

"Better shoot 'em."

"I can't shoot them in cold blood, Peck. That would not be human."

"The wretches don't deserve to live, captain. The Indians and those desperadoes are plotting to wipe out everybody left at the fort."

"I know that. Still, I cannot bring myself to take their lives – and we can't stop to take them along as prisoners. The sooner we get back to the fort the better."

"If we can get back," put in another soldier.

"I don't believe the fort is surrounded just yet," returned the young officer.

"But if it is?"

"Then, perhaps, it will be better for us to be out than in."

"You wouldn't desert the crowd at the fort, would you?"

"You know me better than that, Gorman. We might be able to ride to the next fort and obtain re-enforcements."

"That's so, captain! I didn't think of that."

Leaving the dead Indians in the bushes and the others tied to the trees, the captain and his companions now lost no time in striking out for the fort.

Fortunately, Peck was well acquainted with every foot of the territory to be covered, and he led the way by a route which was fairly easy and as direct as could be expected, considering the wild region to be covered.

As he hurried along, the young captain's thoughts were busy. Where were Joe, Darry, and Benson, and how were things going at the fort?

"The Indians are not so much to be blamed as the desperadoes," he said. "They have some wrongs, although they are more fancied than real. But the desperadoes ought all to be either shot down or placed under arrest."

"Right you are," returned Gorman. "This district will never prosper until the desperadoes are cleaned out."

It was not long before the party began to grow hungry, and they had to halt for an hour, to prepare some birds which one of the number had brought down with a gun.

All the time they were eating, one of the soldiers remained on guard, for they were fearful a band of Indians might come up unawares to surprise them. But not a red man or desperado showed himself.

Nightfall found them still sixteen miles from the fort, and unable to walk further.

"We will camp out where we are," said Captain Moore. "It is useless to think of covering the distance in the dark. Besides, we might fall into some trap."

A storm had been threatening, but now the clouds passed and the night proved clear and pleasant. It was decided that two men should remain on guard at a time, each taking a turn of three hours.

The young captain slept from nine o'clock until three in the morning. Then he awoke with the feeling that further sleep was out of the question. Getting up, he walked to a nearby brook, intending to wash up and obtain a needed drink.

While Captain Moore was in the vicinity of the brook something stirring in the bushes attracted his attention.

"Carwell, did you see that?" he asked, of the guard who was nearest to him.

"See what, captain?"

"That thing in yonder bushes."

"I see nothing, sir."

"Something is moving there. Come here and look."

The private did as commanded, and both gazed steadily into the bushes.

"By Jove!" exclaimed the young officer at length, "Do you see what it is now, Carwell?"

"I do not, captain."

"It's a panther, unless I am greatly mistaken."

"Where?"

"Lying on the fallen tree, behind that tall bush," and Captain Moore pointed with his hand.

As he did this the panther arose suddenly, then crouched down as if to make a leap at them.

"Shoot!" ordered the captain, and as quickly as the private could raise his rifle he fired. But his aim was poor, and the bullet flew a foot over the panther's head.

"Missed, hang the luck!" muttered Carwell.

Scarcely had the words left his lips, when the panther made a fierce leap and landed directly at the feet of the astonished pair. The beast was evidently very hungry, or it would not have attacked human beings in this semi-light of the early dawn.

Full of fear, Carwell staggered back, with his smoking rifle still in his hand.

The panther growled and switched its tail from side to side. The rifle shot had filled it with wonder, and it did not know what to do next.

"Be careful – he is going to take another leap!" cried the young captain.

He was right; the panther was now preparing for another spring. Before Carwell could get out of the way, the beast came on, pinning the private to the earth.

As Carwell went down the whole camp roused up, and the second guard came up on the double quick.

"What's up, captain?" he sang out.

"Shoot the panther!" answered the young officer. "Quick, or you'll be too late. Don't hit Carwell."

Crack! the rifle spoke up, and the beast was hit fairly and squarely in the side. At this it let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. It had caught Carwell by the arm, but now it released its hold.

"A panther!" roared one of the old soldiers. "And a big one. Git your guns, boys! He aint no beast to fool with, I can tell you that!"

Those who had guns ran for them. But in the meantime the panther turned around, as if to retreat.

Then, of a sudden, it seemed to catch sight of Captain Moore, and with a snarl of rage it threw itself upon the young officer, and both went over with a loud splash into the brook.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SKIRMISH IN THE BRUSH

Up to the time the panther had turned upon him, the young officer had thought but little of his own safety, being concerned chiefly about Carwell, who was flat on his back, and who looked as if he as going to be chewed up by this wild, lean, and hungry beast of the forest.

But now Captain Moore found himself attacked, and as he went over into the brook he realized that he was in the most perilous position he had yet encountered. Facing Indians and desperadoes was nothing compared to facing this beast, that seemed bent upon his destruction.

The spot where the young officer struck the brook was five or six feet deep, and as the panther came down on top of him he went straight to the bottom.

The beast was also submerged, but not for long. Panthers, although they can swim, do not like the water, and this one lost no time in coming to the surface to get air. Then it let out another scream of pain, while the bullet wound in its side dyed the brook red.

As the panther came up the young captain tried to do the same. But the first thing he encountered was the beast's fierce claws, and he received a deep and painful scratch in his left shoulder. Then he went down again, and tried to come up further down the stream. But unfortunately the panther moved in the same direction.

In the meantime the other soldiers came up to the edge of the brook. They realized their captain's peril, and as soon as the panther showed itself two of them blazed away, one hitting the beast in the back and the other landing a bullet in the panther's neck.

The fury of the animal was now intense, and whirling around it lashed the water of the brook into a perfect foam. Then it leaped for the opposite shore, and made a break for the underbrush. Before anybody could fire again it was gone.