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

CHAPTER XXV
A LUCKY MEETING

"Captain, where am I?"

"In the woods with me, Peck."

"What has happened?"

"Don't you remember? The Indians surprised us, and you were shot in the side."

The brow of the wounded soldier contracted for a moment, and then he drew a long and painful breath.

"Ah, yes, I remember now. Are we alone?"

"Yes."

"And what of the others, captain?"

"I am afraid they have either been shot down or taken prisoners. Poor Carwell and Leeds I know are dead."

"It was a nasty surprise, wasn't it? I was sure they hadn't seen me."

"Those Indians are sly, Peck. They never let on until they are fully ready. We can be thankful that we escaped."

"How long have we been here?"

"The best part of the day. I carried you along the brook and to here, and I haven't dared to go any further. Those Indians can't be far off."

"It was good of you to do that for me, captain," said the private gratefully.

"I know you would have done as much for me, Peck. What I am worried about is what we are to do next."

"Perhaps you had better wait till dark, and then sneak to the fort."

"How do you feel?"

"Weak, captain, weak as a rag."

"I shan't leave you, Peck."

"But you ought to try to save yourself."

"We can both try to do that, when you are stronger."

Slowly the day wore along until night was once more on the pair. Peck had tried to stand up, but the effort had proved a dismal failure.

"It's no use," he murmured. "I reckon I'm a fit subject for the hospital," and he gave a sickly grin.

The night was one Captain Moore never forgot. He was hungry, but there was nothing at hand with which to satisfy the cravings of the inner man. Peck's mind began to ramble again, and once he struggled violently, thinking he was fighting with an Indian, who was trying to tear out his side.

With the coming of dawn the young officer felt that matters were growing desperate and that he must do something. He determined to go on a short exploring tour, leaving the soldier where he lay.

"I'll be back inside of half an hour," he said. "Make yourself as comfortable as possible while I am gone."

"Don't desert me!" groaned Peck. "Promise to come back, captain – promise!" he pleaded, and the young officer promised.

On the opposite side of the brook was a series of rocks leading to the top of rather a high hill, and Captain Moore had an idea that from this eminence he could obtain a faint view of the fort and its surroundings.

Half of the rocks were passed when he came to a sudden halt. A low groan ahead had reached his ears. As he stopped and listened the groan was repeated.

"That sounds familiar," he thought. "I've heard that before. But where?"

At last he made up his mind that the sounds came from some wild animal that was wounded, and plucking up courage he moved forward again, but with his rifle before him, ready to shoot at the slightest provocation.

"The panther – and dying!"

The young officer was right. There on a shelf of rocks lay the wounded beast, its breath coming short and heavy, and its eyes letting out a glassy stare that caused the captain to shiver in spite of himself.

At the sight of a human being the panther tried to rise. But the effort was too much for it, and it sank down, groaning with pain, in a pool of blood which had formed.

At first Captain Moore thought to finish by putting a bullet through its head, but then he remembered that ammunition was scarce and lowered his rifle.

"He'll be dead by the time I get back," he thought, and continued on his way up the mountain side.

At last the top was gained, and he looked around eagerly. At first only the plain far below met his view, but presently he made out a spot which he knew must be the fort. But all was in a blue haze, and no details could be distinguished.

Having spent quarter of an hour on the mountain top he picked his way back to where he had left the panther. The creature had now breathed its last, and lay stiffened out on the rocky ledge.

"I must have something to eat, and so must Peck," he said to himself. "Panther steaks may be tough, but they will be better than nothing. I'll go back for the hunting-knife and cut off as much meat as we'll be likely to need for a couple of days."

When he reached Peck's side he found the soldier sleeping quietly, and did not disturb him. Going back, he cut off a generous slice of the panther meat, leaving the rest to the wild beasts.

The captain hated to build a fire, fearing it would attract the attention of the enemy, but he did not wish to eat the meat raw, and presently, having no matches, shot his gun into the midst of some dry leaves. By this means he soon had a blaze, which he fed with the driest wood he could find, thus avoiding a great cloud of smoke. Over the blaze he cooked the steak, which was soon done to a turn.

When Peck awoke he felt stronger, and readily partook of the meal brought to him, washing down the meat with some water from the brook.

"What do you calculate to do now, captain?" he asked.

"From the top of yonder hill I can see the fort in the distance," answered the young officer. "But how to get to it is a question. It would be a hard enough journey as it is, without having to be on guard against Indians and desperadoes."

"Better leave me here, and go it alone."

"No, I shan't desert you, Peck. We'll see the thing through together."

"But the Indians might come down on us."

"We've got to run that risk. The question is, can you walk at all?"

For reply Peck got up on his feet. At first he swayed around a little, but presently steadied himself.

"I'm good for a little distance, captain, but I don't reckon to go into any walking match just yet."

"Then we'll go ahead. As soon as you feel played out, don't hesitate to say so."

Captain Moore carried the rifle, hunting-knife, and what was left of the meat, and also insisted upon having the private lean on his arm. In this fashion two miles were covered by noon, when they came to a rest under the shade of a big tree. Peck was pale, and showed plainly that the exertion had done him no good.

"Hardest walking I ever did," he admitted, as he stretched himself at full length. It was his will-power alone that had kept him up.

"Well, we are gaining," said Captain Moore cheerfully. "Three miles more will see us through."

"If the enemy don't gobble us in the meantime."

"The Indians are nowhere in sight."

"They won't be showing themselves if they can help it. They spring on us – Hark!"

Peck broke off short, and both listened.

"Somebody is coming this way!" whispered the young officer. "Come, we must get out of sight!"

He took the wounded soldier by the hand, and with all speed the pair crept into some brushwood behind the big tree. In the meantime the foot-steps of the unknown party came closer.

As the man came into view, Captain Moore let out a shout which was full of joy.

"Hank Leeson! How glad I am to see you!"

The old hunter started around and drew up his gun. Then the weapon dropped, and he ran forward.

"Captain Moore!" he ejaculated. "Hang me ef I aint glad to set eyes on ye! Who is that with you?"

"Private Peck of Company B. We've had a fight with the Indians, and a number of the soldiers were killed."

"The Injuns are on the warpath, along with the desperadoes under Matt Gilroy," returned Leeson. "I got the word from Sam Benson early this mornin'."

"And where was Benson?"

"Out among the hills, a-lookin' fer you."

"And what of my brother, and my cousin? Have you heard anything of them?"

"They are safe at the fort."

"Thank Heaven for that!"

"I see ye'er both of ye wounded," went on Leeson, as he came closer.

"My wound is not much. But Peck's is bad. I hardly knew how I was going to get him to the fort. Are the Indians or desperadoes around?"

"They are, captain – but whar is jest now the conundrum. Captain Lee – he's in command now – thinks there's a big plot on foot ter wipe out the fort."

"He is right. But Colonel Fairfield – what of him? Did they drug him?"

"They did, captain. But it's queer you know of all this."

"Then Joe didn't tell you I was with him at the cave?"

"I didn't have time to hear the whole story. Benson was coming out, and I came with him. Now, as you're found, I reckon I had better go back with you," went on Hank Leeson.

"By all means, for we'll have to take turns in supporting Peck."

A few minutes later the march for the fort was taken up. It was a tedious journey, and there were times when the young captain felt as if it would never come to an end. But at last they came within sight of the stockade and the big flag floating so proudly to the breeze, and then several came rushing out to meet them, and their hard-ships, for the time being, came to an end.

CHAPTER XXVI
THE ENEMIES WITHIN THE FORT

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you again, Will!" was the greeting which Joe gave his brother. "We were almost certain either the Indians or desperadoes had fallen upon you and killed you."

"Well, we did have some hot work," answered the young captain modestly. "Are you all right?"

"I am."

"And you, Darry?"

"I'm first-class," answered the cousin. "But I can tell you, Will, there is trouble ahead."

"I know that, Darry. I must see Colonel Fairfield at once."

"He is very ill. The surgeon can do hardly anything for him. He says he has not the right drugs to reach such a dose as the colonel has swallowed."

"That's too bad."

By this time Captain Lee was at hand, and the two officers exchanged reports. Nothing had been heard concerning Lieutenant Carrol. The command of the fort now fell upon Captain Moore.

As soon as possible the young commander went in to see his superior. He found Colonel Fairfield very weak and in no condition to talk upon military matters. He took the young captain's hand, and said feebly:

"You must do your best, captain, do your best. Defend the place to the last."

"I will, Colonel Fairfield," answered the young officer. "And I trust you recover soon."

That day and the next passed without incident of a special nature. Sick and wounded were cared for by the surgeon, and a detachment went out, accompanied by Sam Benson and Hank Leeson, to look for any of the soldiers who had been attacked by the Indians or desperadoes and who might still be alive.

When this party returned they brought in the bodies of two soldiers that had fallen.

"The Indians are gathering in force," said old Benson, who had been right among them in the darkness. "There are now over a hundred and twenty of them."

"And what of the desperadoes?" asked Captain Moore.

"The desperadoes number twenty-six," answered Hank Leeson. "I counted noses myself. Matt Gilroy is a reg'lar captain over 'em an' has 'em drilled like a company o' sharpshooters – an' I reckon thet's wot they are, consarn 'em!"

"Then the enemy, all told, numbers about a hundred and fifty," mused the young captain.

"How many men here fit for duty to-day, captain?" came from the old scout.

"Not over forty, including the cooks and stable help, Benson. All the others are on the sick list – and some of them are pretty bad."

"Perhaps the crowd outside are a-waitin' till ye all git sick," suggested Leeson with a scowl. "'Taint fair fightin', is it? They ought all to be hung!"

"I must do my best," said Captain Moore gravely. "I can do no more."

As the day wore along and two additional soldiers were taken sick, he decided to send a messenger to Fort Prescott, a hundred and sixty miles away, for assistance.

Hank Leeson knew every foot of the territory, and was chosen for the mission. Benson was more than willing to go, but Captain Moore told him to remain where he was.

"If the enemy attack us you'll have to be our right-hand man, Benson," he said. Then he added: "I want to talk to you after Leeson is gone."

Since coming to the fort Captain Moore had been watching two old soldiers very closely.

These soldiers were named Moses Bicker and Jack Drossdell. Their reputations were not of the best, and the black marks against them were numerous.

Some time before, the young captain had heard that Bicker came of a family of Colorado desperadoes and that he had joined the army during a spasm of reformation.

The actions of the pair did not suit Captain Moore in the least, and that night he took it upon himself to watch them more closely than ever.

In the darkness he saw Bicker make his way to the stable, and to that spot, a little later, Drossdell followed.

"Something is in the wind, and I'm going to find out what it is," he mused, and watching his opportunity he passed into the stable unobserved.

At first he could hear nothing but the movements of the horses, but presently came a low murmur from one corner of the loft.

Cautiously the young officer climbed the ladder and stepped into the hay.

Here he could hear the conversation between Bicker and Drossdell quite plainly.

"They never suspected the butter," he heard Bicker say. "It tastes a little strong, but they would rather have it that way than have none, and the same way with the condensed milk."

"When shall we give the signal to the boys?" came from Drossdell.

"Not yet. There will be more of them sick by to-morrow night," replied Bicker.

More of the same sort of talk followed, until the young captain became fully convinced that Bicker and Drossdell were in league with the desperadoes, and that they had been using some drugs in the butter, milk, and other articles consumed at the fort, in order to make the soldiers sick.

As soon as he realized the importance of his discovery Captain Moore went below.

A corporal's guard was called out and sent over to the stable, and when Bicker and Drossdell came below they were placed under arrest.

"What's this for?" demanded Bicker, putting on a bold front. Drossdell had nothing to say, and trembled so he could scarcely stand.

"You know well enough, Bicker," answered Captain Moore sternly.

"No, I don't. I haven't done anything wrong, captain."

"March them to the guardhouse," was all the young commander said, and the two were promptly marched away.

As may be surmised, the moment the evildoers were alone each accused the other of having done something to bring on exposure.

Captain Moore knew his men well, and presently he sent for Drossdell and interviewed the soldier in private.

"I am sorry to see you in such trouble as this, Drossdell," he said. "I thought you were a better soldier."

"I haven't done anything, captain."

"It is useless for you to deny it. Do you know what my men would do to you and Bicker if they learned the truth? They would rebel and hang you on the spot – and you would deserve it, too."

"Oh, captain, for the love of Heaven, don't put us in the hands of the boys!" pleaded Drossdell, turning a ghostly white.

"You and Bicker plotted to get us all sick and then let the Indians and Gilroy's gang in on us."

"I – I – "

"It is useless for you to deny it, for I heard your talk myself, and saw a letter written by Bicker to Gilroy."

"Bicker formed the plans!" cried Drossdell, breaking down completely. "He – he forced me to help him."

"Forced you?"

"Yes, captain, forced me. I stood out a long while, but he – he – Well, I might as well make a clean breast of it, sir. He had me in his power, on account of something I did in Denver years ago. He said he would expose me if I didn't help him."

"This is the strict truth?"

"Yes, captain, and I will swear to it if you want me to," answered the prisoner.

"You were going to signal the gang when all was in readiness for an attack," went on Captain Moore.

"Bicker was going to do that."

"What was the signal to be?"

"Three white handkerchiefs stuck on the ends of a cross made of sticks six feet long. He was going to show these at ten in the morning or four in the afternoon, from the southwest corner of the stockade, behind the mess hall."

"And what was the signal to be if you wanted the enemy to hold off for a while?"

"A red shirt if he wanted them to hold off for one day and a red and a blue shirt if they were to hold off for two days."

"You are certain about these signals? Remember, if you are telling a lie it will all come back on your own head."

"I am telling the strict truth," answered Drossdell.

CHAPTER XXVII
SIGNALS AND WHAT FOLLOWED

The interview over, Captain Moore lost no time in summoning Hank Leeson.

"You must depart for Fort Prescott without delay," he said.

"I'm ready now, captain," replied the old hunter.

"You must ride night and day till you get there."

"I'll do thet too."

"I have received important news. At the longest our enemies will hold off two days. I will try to make them hold off a day longer if I can. That will give you three days. I will write a letter to Major Hardie at once."

This was early in the morning, and inside of half an hour the letter was written and the old hunter was off, on the back of the freshest and most enduring horse the fort possessed. He went fully armed, for he knew that he carried his life in his hands.

As soon as Leeson had gone the young captain summoned the surgeon and told that individual about the drugged butter and condensed milk.

Dr. Nestor was incredulous, but on an examination said that all were drugged. A cat that had drunk of the diluted condensed milk was found in a stupor from which she could not be aroused.

"It's awful," said the surgeon.

A trustworthy cook was called in, and all the butter and condensed milk which were open, or which showed signs of having been tampered with, were thrown away.

This put the soldiers on short rations so far as these commodities went, but nobody complained. Some suspected Bicker and Drossdell, and there was talk of a demand on the captain to have the traitors shot, but it came to nothing.

"What does this mean?" asked Joe, when he caught his brother in a quiet spot.

In a few words the young captain explained.

"You and Darry must say nothing," he concluded. "We will have our hands full as it is. The Indians are in this, but the drugging was not done by Mose the half-breed."

"When will you signal to the enemy?" asked Darry.

"This afternoon at four. That will give us at least two whole days – and a lot may happen in that time."

"If only the surgeon can bring some of the men out of their stupor," remarked Joe.

"He hopes to do so – now he knows more about the drugs used against them."

"If you hadn't caught Bicker and Drossdell what do you suppose would have happened?" questioned Darry.

"More than likely every one of us would have been sick," answered the young captain with a shudder. "Then the Indians and the desperadoes could have walked in here without a struggle."

"Even if help does not come, you'll fight them, won't you, Will?"

"To be sure – to the bitter end."

"By the way, are you certain the ammunition hasn't been tampered with?" came from Joe.

"I was thinking of that and was going to have an examination made when you stopped me," said Captain Moore, and hurried on.

An examination showed that some of the powder on the place had been hidden. Drossdell said this was under the barn flooring, and his words proved true.

Promptly at four o'clock Captain Moore appeared at the southwest corner of the stockade with a red shirt in one hand and a blue shirt in the other.

Fortunately he was built like Bicker, and donning a private's hat and coat made him look a good deal like that individual from a distance.

Slowly he waved the coats to and fro for five minutes.

Then an answering signal came back from some brushwood on the top of a distant hill – the answer being similar to the signal itself, showing the message was seen and understood.

It is likely that the Indians and desperadoes were much chagrined to think that they would have to hold off for two days, but if so they made no sign.

The next day proved unusually warm. There was nothing for the boys to do in the fort, and they wandered around from place to place. At drill but thirty-eight soldiers presented themselves, all the others being on the sick list.

"I must say I don't feel very well myself," remarked Darry. "I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Gracious! don't say that you're going to get sick too!" cried Joe.

"I won't get sick if I can help it," replied Darry. "But I feel awfully queer."

Joe did what he could for his cousin. But, with the limited means at hand, this was not much, and by sundown Darry was flat on his back, although the attack he sustained was not as severe as that of many around him.

"I feel as if I was in something of a dream," he told Joe. "That drug must have opium in it."

"It's something like opium – I heard the surgeon say so," answered his cousin.

At night a strict watch was kept, and twice old Benson went out to reconnoiter.

"The Indians and desperadoes have surrounded us on all sides," he announced. "But it don't look as if they meant to attack us just yet."

With the coming of morning it began to rain, but this cleared away by noon, and then the sun boiled down as fiercely as ever. The sunny spots within the stockade were suffocating, and the boys were glad enough to stay within the cool walls of the stone fort.

As far as he was able Captain Moore had prepared the place to resist an attack. A weak spot in the stockade was strengthened and the cannon of the fort were put in the best possible condition. The soldiers were told where to go in case of a sudden alarm, and were cautioned not to waste any ammunition, for the supply was limited.

Thanks to the surgeon's efforts Colonel Fairfield was now somewhat better. Yet he was too weak by far to get up or to manage affairs, so the command still remained in Captain Moore's hands. Even Captain Lee was now down, and it was a question whether he would live or die.

"You must do your best, Captain Moore," said the colonel feebly. "I know I can trust you. You are brave, and your training has been a judicious one."

Early that night there came a sudden alarm, followed by two rifle shots in quick succession. At once there was a commotion, and everybody sprang to his post.

"The Indians and desperadoes must be coming!" cried Joe, and ran for the rifle with which he had been armed.

The cause of the alarm, however, was not from without, but from within. Bicker had forced his way out of the guardhouse, and at the risk of breaking his neck had climbed to the roof of the barn and leaped over the stockade into the ditch outside.

A guard had seen the leap and had fired on the man, hitting him, it was thought, in the shoulder. Then a second guard had discharged his weapon, but by this time the fleeing prisoner had been swallowed up in the gathering darkness.

"He must not get away!" cried the young captain. "If he does, they will attack us at once. After him, Benson, and you, too, Forshew and Donaldson. I will follow with some horses!"

Without delay the old scout climbed the stockade and scrambled over the ditch. The others ran around to the gate, and soon several additional soldiers followed. On second thought Captain Moore sent the horses out by a lieutenant, thinking it best that he remain where he was, that being primarily his post of duty.

"Can we go?" asked Joe.

"No, Joe, stay where you are," said his brother. "If that rascal gets to his friends there will be work enough here, never fear."

The pursuit of Bicker lasted for over an hour, and brought on a smart skirmish between the men from the fort and the desperadoes, in which one person on each side was slightly wounded. But the rascal managed to gain the enemy's camp in safety, and then those from the fort came back as fast as possible to report.

"Now the deception is up," said Captain Moore, with a serious look. "I wouldn't be surprised to see them attack us before morning."

"Right you are, captain," replied old Benson, "and my opinion is, that the desperadoes and Indians will fight hard, when once they get going," he concluded.