There!"

At the last word his carbine cracked and an Indian, his arm dangling at his side, darted away from a tree ahead. Wallace sprang up and followed, taking possession of the nearer side of the tree.

"Say, Wallace, where's Captain Miner?" shouted Al after him.

"Aw, how do I know?" replied Wallace, without looking around. Then he added, "Oh, yes; he was just over there a minute ago." He jerked his head vaguely to the right.

Al went on and almost immediately encountered the Captain, accompanied by eight or ten men, in a little gully where they had stopped to breathe. Though panting and soaked with perspiration, the men were firing up at the rocks above them but, at the moment when Al arrived, the Captain's revolver lay on the ground at his feet and his drawn sabre was thrust under one arm while he was picking with his right thumb and forefinger at a tiny splinter in the palm of his left hand. His face wore an absorbed expression and he moved his head slowly from side to side as he worked. He seemed entirely unconscious that anything was happening around him.

"Captain Miner," said Al, hardly able to repress a laugh as he saluted, "General Sully says for you not to get too far ahead of the flanks. He is afraid you will be surrounded."

The Captain looked up at him with a glance of pathetic helplessness.

"Why, my boy," said he, "how can I help it? We are already surrounded.

We must keep going ahead or we shall be cleaned out. I'm sorry. I wish the General understood the situation."

Having extracted the splinter, he picked up his revolver again, stepped to a rock and peered around it.

"They seem to be afraid to go out of there, don't they?" he said to his men, thoughtfully, after a moment's inspection of the enemy's position.

"I believe perhaps we'd better drive them. Yes, let's do that. Come on, boys. Charge!"

The soldiers gave a yell and scrambled out of the gully, Al with them, and the Captain climbing and jumping over the rocks just ahead. On either side of them other men of the Coyotes sprang up to join the advance; and farther to the right, up the side of the ravine, the Winnebago scouts of Captain Stufft, and Captain Williams's company of the Sixth Iowa, surged forward also. A hundred or more Indians sprang away from their hiding-places beyond and hurried higher up the ravine, some of them pausing to fire at their pursuers.

Al, being strong and quick, was soon abreast of the Captain. He was just pulling himself up on hands and knees over a ledge when he saw a tall, broad-shouldered Indian step into view from behind a rock not thirty feet ahead and raise his rifle to fire. As he stood, his left side was turned slightly toward Al, and what the latter saw as he looked made him gasp as though he had been struck in the face. A long, livid scar ran down the cheek and neck of the savage and out upon his shoulder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He was just pulling himself up]

For an instant Al's head swam, as he realized that before him stood Te-o-kun-ko, the captor of his brother Tommy. Then, with no thought in his mind other than that he must catch up with the Yanktonais and demand his brother, he began running and climbing ahead again with frantic energy. The Indian had fired and disappeared; but to Al's excited imagination it seemed almost as if in overtaking him he would overtake Tommy himself. He paid no heed to Captain Miner and his men nor to Wallace Smith, who had joined them, all of whom were shouting to him to come back. He leaped over the rock where Te-o-kun-ko had stood but the warrior was not in sight. He ran up a little, steep depression beyond and swung around a tree-trunk at its head. An Indian behind a stone a few feet to one side, who had not noticed him so far in front of the line, gave him a terrified glance and fled like a rabbit. Al did not pause to fire at him; but another warrior on his opposite side sent a bullet so close that the wind of it brushed his face sharply, and he stopped long enough to reply with his revolver; whereupon the savage dived between two boulders and vanished. Al rushed on, totally oblivious of the fact that he was getting far within the retreating Indian lines.

Just then, in climbing over a boulder, his foot slipped and he pitched forward and rolled into the narrow crevice between two rocks beyond, where, for a moment, he was held securely, despite his struggles. He twisted himself around in an effort to grasp a point of the stone above him, and found himself staring into the face of Te-o-kun-ko, hardly fifteen feet away, looking at him down the barrel of his rifle.

"Te-o-kun-ko! Wait!" shouted Al. "Te-o-kun-ko, where is Tommy,--Tommy Briscoe?"

The tense muscles of the Indian's features relaxed. His finger did not press the trigger which would have forever ended Al's search. Across his face came an expression of intense bewilderment, mixed, it seemed to Al's fascinated gaze, with grief or remorse. The levelled rifle barrel wavered and then sunk. He half turned away, hesitatingly, then looked again at Al with a keen, searching glance, as the latter lay helpless between the rocks. Finally, with a gesture half defiant and half despairing, he made a few quick, cat-like springs across the rocks and disappeared once more.

With a mighty effort Al succeeded in grasping the jutting point of the stone and drew himself up from the crevice. He was none too soon, for two Indians, whom he had distanced in his rapid climb, coming along the slope near him with guns evidently empty, saw him and leaped at him with clubbed muskets. He fired his revolver at one of them and missed, then jerked out his sabre and swung it in a left parry just in time to save his head from the blow of a musket b.u.t.t. Three more warriors coming behind and afraid to shoot lest they hit their friends, came bounding down to join the hand-to-hand struggle.

In a few seconds more all would have been over but at this crucial instant the four men leading the wild scramble of the Coyotes after Al, caught up with him. They were Wallace, and Troopers Will Van Osdel, Lank Hoyt, and George Pike. Van Osdel leaped in beside Al, his sabre knocking the gun clear from the hands of one of the Indians, Hoyt crouched and fired his carbine at another, who sunk to the ground with a grunt, and Pike and Wallace, giving as loud a shout as they had breath for, climbed on after the remaining warriors, who had taken to their heels.

No sooner had the Indians fled than Van Osdel turned on Al.

"You crazy jack-rabbit," he cried, "what are you trying to do? Have you gone plumb out of your head? It's the biggest wonder ever happened you're not dead."

"I saw the Indian that captured my brother," returned Al, dejectedly.

"But he's gone now."

"Well," interjected Hoyt, mopping his streaming face, "he came near getting two brothers, instead of one. Anyhow, you've led a lovely charge. We've nearly cleared the ravine."

They looked ahead. It was true. The crest of the mountain was towering above them through the trees and they were actually ascending its base, for, though Al's foolhardy pursuit of Te-o-kun-ko had taken hardly five minutes from the time he started until he was overtaken by his comrades, he had climbed so fast and so far that the Dakota and Iowa Cavalry and the Indian scouts, in following him had penetrated clear through the Sioux camps lying above the ravine on either side.

His right senses came back to Al the moment he realized that he had failed in his purpose of capturing or killing Te-o-kun-ko, and he knew that he ought to return at once to General Sully. But he could not resist the temptation to go on now to the top of the ravine and see what was there, and he had, moreover, a lingering hope of catching another sight of Te-o-kun-ko. The stragglers of the cavalry were now closing up on those who had gained the advance, and, the Indians having practically given up the contest, a few moments of hard climbing brought them to the top of the ravine.

An astonishing sight met their eyes. As far as they could see over the sloping ridge, the ground was covered with a city of lodges. A few had been struck and dragged away for a distance, but most of them were still standing, though deserted. Over at the farther side of the camp could be seen the last of the squaws and children, flying into the bewildering maze of ravines leading up the rugged face of Tahkahokuty, protected by the scattered fire of the warriors who had just been routed by the cavalry. Off to the right and left, where the sh.e.l.ls of Jones and Pope had but just ceased to burst, the little group of soldiers could see the columns of Brackett and McLaren pouring with exultant shouts into other parts of the immense, abandoned Sioux camps, while, in their own rear, the main line of battle was approaching up the ridge. Though the mountain had not yet been ascended, plainly the field itself had been completely conquered, and the battle of Tahkahokuty Mountain, the greatest and most picturesque conflict of the American Northwest, had become a part of history. Al and Wallace, tardily recollecting their duties, made haste in descending the ravine to find their horses and return to General Sully, with such explanations as they could devise for their long absence while carrying orders to the firing line.

CHAPTER XIII

BESET IN THE BAD LANDS

On regaining the prairie, the boys found that General Sully had already gone up to the Sioux camps at one side of the ravine by which they had ascended. They at once followed, pa.s.sing the artillery and the wagon train on the way. When they arrived they found most of the army already a.s.sembling on the farther side of the hostile camps, at the base of Tahkahokuty. Far up on the top of the mountain a number of Indians had gathered and were firing upon the troops at very long range. Although the soldiers were very much exhausted by their efforts of the afternoon and were sorely in need of food and rest, it was evident that these annoying neighbors must be dispersed before nightfall. Moreover, it was known that good water was to be found somewhere near the mountain top, at the Falling Spring of Tahkahokuty, as the Indians called the spot, and since the troops were suffering for water, an advance was imperative. General Sully inspected the enemy's position, then said to Colonel Thomas, who was with him,

"Colonel, do you think some of the Eighth Minnesota could clear those fellows out and get possession of the spring, if Captain Jones sh.e.l.ls ahead of them?"

"They certainly can and will, General," responded Thomas.

"Four companies ought to be enough," continued Sully. "The rest of the troops can be having mess while they are gone."

"I will instruct Major Camp to make the advance," replied the Colonel, riding away.

Al stepped to the General's side.

"May I have permission to accompany Major Camp, General?" he asked.

"This afternoon I came face to face with the Indian who has my brother a prisoner,--Te-o-kun-ko,--but he got away. I might possibly see him again up there."

"The Indian who has your brother?" exclaimed the General, much surprised. "How do you know?"

"By the scar on his cheek and neck and by the way he looked when I called him by name," answered Al.

"Why, in that case, of course you can go," the General replied. "But be careful; he is undoubtedly a desperate fellow. However, it isn't likely you will see him again. Most of them have gotten as far away as they can by this time." Then he added, "By the way, since you are going, watch for a practical path to the top for cavalry and wagons. The army may have to go up there, and I certainly shall to-morrow."

Al mounted Cottontail and rode away. He had hardly reached Major Camp's detachment, which had dismounted and was deploying to the right as skirmishers, when the guns of the Third Minnesota Battery began once more to boom. Their elevating-screws had been run down to the last thread in order that the muzzles might be raised enough to throw their sh.e.l.ls upon the overhanging mountain crest. The projectiles carried to their mark, bursting in sprays of pale, orange flame high above the topmost rocks. But they did not entirely dislodge the enemy, and after a few rounds the battery was obliged to cease firing owing to the advance of the skirmish line.

Up along the steep, boulder-strewn breast of Tahkahokuty, through timber and underbrush, went the thin, irregular line, eagerly watched by the troops below and but feebly opposed by the warriors above. It was hard climbing, and more than once Al and others in the detachment stumbled and fell over stones or tree roots. As they neared the top and came into clear view from the crest, the fire of the Indians increased in intensity, though the savages continued to shoot high so that very few of the soldiers suffered. At length the cavalrymen scrambled over the last ledge, too breathless to shout in response to the hearty cheers of their comrades far below, but not too breathless to follow on a run after the Sioux who had been bold enough to await their coming and still showed fight around the ravine of the Falling Spring. The struggle was sharp and decisive but it lasted only for a moment. A few carbines and sabres clashed with lances and muskets, then the rear guard of the Sioux, unable, as always, to stand the test of hand-to-hand conflict, broke for the nearest cover behind them and disappeared in the tumbled wilderness of mountains beyond, whither their families and the bulk of their army had already gone.

Some deserted lodges stood around the triumphant Minnesotans on the lofty eminence, but they were few in number compared to those in the vast camp below. Al saw nothing of Te-o-kun-ko in the handful of warriors who fled before them; and while the men were filling their canteens at the spring of cool, crystal water which burst from the rocks near at hand, he walked along the crest of the ridge, looking for a less abrupt ascent than the one they had followed. From his position, the view spread before him in the golden glow of early twilight was magnificent. Far below and seemingly almost at his feet, lay the bivouac of the army. He could see the soldiers moving about, some of them still tossing their hats in enthusiasm over the success of the charge. They looked like pygmies, and the sound of their cheers came up to him faint and far away. Farther out from the ridge lay the myriad dots of the Sioux lodges, and beyond them, extending for miles upon miles until lost in the haze of the horizon, stretched the countless rough ranges of hills over which the army had pa.s.sed in the morning. The treeless expanse of crests and slopes, lying like a tumbled green counterpane in the distance, was now as still and peaceful as if it had never known the turmoil of battle or the trample of armed men.

At length Al retraced his steps and joined Major Camp, whose men were now ready to descend to the main body, with the exception of a strong picket left to hold and patrol the mountain top. Once more back at headquarters, Al was not long in finishing his supper and rolling himself in his blanket. But, though weary with the exertions and excitement through which he had pa.s.sed since daybreak, he lay for a while thinking over the events of the past nine hours, while one by one the sounds of the camp died away around him, and the soldiers lay down to rest. Most of his thoughts were naturally of his encounter with Te-o-kun-ko and the mystifying conduct of the latter. Why had the Yanktonais failed to shoot him when he lay there between the rocks, utterly helpless? It would have been the most natural thing in the world for an Indian to do, for they seldom show mercy, especially in the heat of battle. Why had that strange, bewildered expression come over the Indian's face when Al called him by name? And, most perplexing of all, where was Tommy now? Among the women and children who had fled away before the army could overtake them, or in some distant, secluded place where Te-o-kun-ko had left him for safe-keeping? All these questions were utterly baffling; no amount of thinking could bring a satisfactory answer to a single one of them; and at length Al, weary in body and mind, sunk into the dreamless slumber which had already enveloped his comrades on every side.

The bugles were blaring out the reveille long before daylight next morning, and in a short time the army had eaten its breakfast, formed in column and was marching away by the left flank along the base of Tahkahokuty, seeking a pa.s.sage around or through the mountain into the country beyond, whither the enemy had fled. General Sully himself went straight up to the crest by a pathway which had been discovered by Al and others the previous evening, but what he saw there was extremely discouraging. As far as the eye could look to the northward the country was intersected by precipitous hills and steep ravines, some of the latter one hundred feet deep, entirely impracticable for either cavalry or wagons. The army marched for six or seven miles along the foot of the mountain without finding a route by which it could be ascended or turned, and at last the General, bearing in mind that he had rations left for only two more days, reluctantly gave the order to halt and countermarch to the abandoned Sioux camps, in order that these might be destroyed before the army returned to Heart River.

Large detachments from the Second and Eighth Minnesota, the Sixth Iowa, and the Dakota Cavalry were at once detailed as fatigue parties and placed under command of Colonel McLaren to collect and burn the lodge poles and lodge skins, the vast acc.u.mulations of dried buffalo meat and dried berries,--food which, though great in quant.i.ty, was utterly unfit for white men,--the tanned robes, clothing, cooking utensils, saddles, travois poles, and countless other articles left in the camps and the near-by ravines. Thirteen companies were engaged in the task, and they spent half a day of hard work at it, when, finding that they would be unable to finish by evening, they set the woods and prairie on fire, and burned the remainder of the captured property in one great conflagration. The poles and coverings of between fourteen and sixteen hundred lodges were destroyed, being the camp equipment, so General Sully estimated, of between five and six thousand warriors and their families. If correct, this meant that at Tahkahokuty the Sioux had a.s.sembled a greater army than they ever brought together on any other field, before or since.

A little while after noon the troops began their return march, bivouacking that night about six miles from the battlefield, where they were a.s.sailed by a body of Indians about dusk, but repulsed the attack easily. Next day they reached Knife River, and on July 31, by a march of thirty-five miles, regained Captain Tripp's camp on the Heart. They found every one there safe and well; but, though no Indians had been seen during the absence of the main column, both the emigrants and the camp guard were exceedingly glad to see the army back again, as it relieved them from their enforced idleness and a.s.sured the early renewal of the westward march. While the army was away, Captain Tripp had employed his men in digging a strong line of rifle-pits around the camp, which was now in a condition to withstand the attacks of any number of Indians.

The next two days were spent by the troops in resting themselves and their animals, for all were very weary from the hard marching and fighting of the past week; and by General Sully in trying to determine upon the best route to follow in his further march toward the Yellowstone. Al was absent from headquarters during most of the time, making out commissary requisitions and returns in the wagon train, though once, on the second day, he saw General Sully as the latter pa.s.sed through the train with Lieutenant Bacon, closely inspecting the contents of each wagon. When, toward evening, he returned to headquarters, he at once asked Wallace Smith, who had been there continuously, what had happened during the day.