Molly McDonald Part 11

They watched the black specks pa.s.s east to where the bluff circled in toward the river. It was from there those distant riders first observed the dim spiral of smoke still curling up from the burning stage, for they halted, bunching together, and then disappeared slowly down a gash in the side of the hill. Emerging on the lower flat they turned in the direction of the fire, spurring their horses into a swift trot. There was no longer any doubt of their being troopers, and Hamlin stood upright on the sand hummock waving his hat. They were gathered about the fire, a few dismounted beside the dead bodies, before his signal was observed. Then a field gla.s.s flashed in the sunlight, and three or four of the party rode down to the bank of the river. One of these, the gla.s.ses still held in his hand, his horse's hoofs in the water, shouted across the stream.

"Who are you over there?"

"White people," answered Hamlin, using his hands for a trumpet. "We escaped from the stage last night. I am a sergeant, Seventh Cavalry, and the lady with me is the daughter of Major McDonald at Fort Devere."

"How did you get across?"

"Waded in the dark; there is good bottom. Send a man over with a couple of horses."

The officer turned and spoke to the others grouped beside him; then raised his voice again.

"Are you sure there is no quicksand?"

"None to hurt; come straight over the end of that sand spit, and then swerve about a dozen feet to the right to keep out of a hole. The water won't go to a horse's belly. Try it, Wa.s.son, you ought to know me."

"You 're 'Brick' Hamlin, ain't you?"

"A good guess, Sam; come on."

Two troopers left their saddles, and the third man, the one answering the last hail, gathered the reins in one hand, and spurred his horse confidently into the brown water. Following the Sergeant's shouted directions, the three animals plunged forward and came dripping up the low sand bank. The rider, a sallow-faced man clad in rough corduroy, patched and colorless, leaned over and held out his hand.

"Dern yer o' skin," he said solemnly, but with a twinkle in his eyes, "ye 're sure got the luck of it. Ain't seen ye afore fer two years."

"That 's right, Sam; down on the Cowskin, wasn't it? Who 's over there?"

"Leftenant Gaskins, an' some o' the Fourth Cavalry, scoutin' out o'

Dodge; been plum to ther mountings, an' goin' home ag'in. Whut the h.e.l.l (beggin' yer pardin, mam) has happened yere?"

"I 'll explain when we get across," and Hamlin swung the haversack to his shoulder, and turned to the girl. "This is Sam Wa.s.son, Miss McDonald, a scout I have been out with before; let me help you into the saddle."

CHAPTER XII

THE PARTING

They recrossed the stream carefully, the horses restless and hard to control in the current, the men riding on either side, grasping the bit of the girl's mount. Others had joined the little squad of troopers on the bank, and welcomed them with a cheer. The Lieutenant dismounted.

At sight of the girl's face he whipped off his hat, and came forward.

"Miss McDonald," he said, pleasantly greeting her, "I am Lieutenant Gaskins, and I have met your father--of the Sixth Infantry, is he not?

So glad to be of service, you know. You were in the stage, I understand; a most remarkable escape."

"I owe it all to Sergeant Hamlin," she replied, turning to glance toward the latter. "He bore me away unconscious in his arms. Indeed, I scarcely realized what happened. Do you know anything regarding my father?"

"Oh, yes, I can put your mind at ease so far as he is concerned. I presume you were endeavoring to reach his post when this unfortunate affair occurred."

"Yes."

"Sheridan has ordered Devere abandoned for the present, and the Major's troops are to return to Dodge. No doubt we shall be in the field within a week or two. But we can cultivate acquaintance later; now I must straighten out this affair." He bowed again, and turned stiffly toward Hamlin, who had dismounted, his manner instantly changing. He was a short, heavily built man, cleanly shaven, with dark, arrogant eyes, and prominent chin.

"You are a sergeant of the Seventh, you said," he began brusquely.

"What were you doing here?"

"My troop is stationed at Fort Union," was the quiet response. "I carried despatches to Devere, and while there was requested by Major McDonald to intercept his daughter and turn her back."

"Were you subject to Major McDonald's orders?"

"It was not an order, but a request."

"Oh, indeed; a mere pleasure excursion."

"It has hardly turned out that way, sir, and conditions seemed to justify my action."

"That is for others to determine. When was the attack made?"

"Just before sundown last evening. The driver and guard escaped on the lead horses, and the wheelers ran away, wrecking the coach."

"There were four pa.s.sengers?"

"Yes; we fought them off until after dark, although the Mexican was killed by the first fire. I don't know when the other man got his."

"Who were they?"

"Gonzales ran a high-ball game at Santa Fe; the other, Moylan, was post-sutler at Fort Marcy."

"How many Indians? Who were they?"

"About thirty; we must have killed five or six. It was hardly more than daylight when they left, and I could not tell just how many bodies they strapped on the ponies. They were a mixed bunch of young bucks, princ.i.p.ally Arapahoes, led by Roman Nose."

"Went west, hey?"

"Yes, sir."

The Lieutenant turned his gaze up the river, and then looked at Wa.s.son, who remained seated in the saddle.

"Must be the same lot Maxwell told us about up on p.a.w.nee Fork, Sam," he said at last. "He will be likely to cut their trail some time to-day.

We knew a bunch had headed south, but did n't suppose they had got as far as this already. Better leave Maxwell to run them in, I suppose?

Our orders are to return to Dodge."

"They have n't three hours the start," ventured Hamlin in surprise, "and cannot travel fast with so many of their ponies doubly loaded."

"That is for me to decide," staring insolently, "and I understand my duty without any advice. Is there any damage done west of here?"

"The station at the crossing is burned; two dead men there; I don't know what became of the third."

"Then it is just as I thought; those fellows will turn north before they get that far, and will run straight into Maxwell. What do you say, Sam?"

The scout lolled carelessly in the saddle, his eyes on the river, his lean, brown face expressionless.