Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AN INDIAN ‘‘ 'There’s a bunch o’ folks about two miles away,” he said. “See ’em there? Jest take a squint at ’em, will ye, Mr. Phil? ” Phil unslung his glass and sighted at the group of moving objects on the plain before them. ‘By George, it’s cavalry!” he ex- claimed. “ Uncle Sam’s troopers are out for sure, Ben.” “Wonder what started them out,” returned Ben. ‘ Couldn’t be possible that they have heard ’bout the Injuns so soon. They never hear of an out- break until a week afterwards, at least.” “You’re pretty hard on the troops, Ben,” said Phil, as they rode on. “ You know the Indians make it a point to slip "em whenever they can. They can’t watch ’em all the time, and so I sup- pose that accounts for the fact of their often getting away from the reserva- tion, making a live. stock raid, and get- ting back to their tepees before the troops know anything about it.” “ Wal, what 1 wanter know is, why they don’t kill the pesky critters when they do ketch ’em?” growled Ben. ““ Oh, well, that’s because it isn’t the ‘policy ’ of those fellows at Washing- ton. They’re not allowed to. I’ll ad- mit that the only ‘ good Indian’ is a ‘ dead Indian ’; but when a lot of braves have sneaked out of the reservation, and run off some settler’s cattle, and the troops chase them for two or three days and finally run ’em down, what hap- pens? ” “The pesky rascals surrender,” ad- mitted Ben. | “ Of course they do,” said Phil, tri- umphantly. “ They sit down and fold their arms, knowing that a white man won't shoot an unarmed and non resist- ing enemy. It’s not the _ soldier’s fault.” “You always do stick up for the blue coats,” Ben exclaimed, with a short laugh. “ But if you’d lived on these plains as many years as [ hev, you’d know better. We got along a dern sight better with the critters in the old ROUND UP. 131 days; at least, you warn’t likely to make no mistake then. If ye saw an Injun ye shot him—leastways, ye did ’nless he got the drop on you first. There wasn’t no reservation Injuns then, with tags ’round their necks, snoopin’ erbout ter run off the stock.” | Their near approach to the cavalcade of troopers cut off further argument. The herders rode directly to the head of the column, that had been halted, evidently for the purpose of allowing the officers, and an Indian scout or two, to more closely examine the trail. ‘Run off some cattle, I s’pose?”’ re- marked the commander of the govern- ment troops briefly. “Yep; Gray Fox himself was with ?em. They lit out for Bowker, I reck- on,” responded Ben. “What ranch? ” ‘“ Silver Bend.” “Oh, yes, Mr. Boyd’s. And this is young Mr. Boyd, isn’t it? ”’ inquired the officer, more pleasantly, advancing to- ward them. “That is my name, captain,” re- sponded Phil. “ The rascals got away with about fifty herd of picked cattle which two of the herders were taking to Carlisle.” “Yes. Well, you see, two trails meet and cross here. One is doubtless the trail of the party you are following. The other is the trail of the main party —about fifty braves—which we have followed since sunrise. The cattle are steering direct for Bowker Pass as you thought, but the main body keep on to the south. I think they intend meeting the others at some rendezvous on the other side of the range. I was going to send a file of men after them “ “ That won’t be necessary, I reckon, cap’n,’ interrupted Ben Wiailmarth. “We'll keep right on arter the scamps, an’ overhaul ’em, whether they jine forces with the bigger crowd or not.” “ All right,” said the officer, getting into his saddle again. “ That will save my men, for we’ve had a hard day. If you do overtake them, and should no CONMUCIIOO CS eo