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In about an hour and a half they saddled up and rode on, still heading from the Sioux and into the mountains. Where they were going, nobody knew save Scouts Gruard and Big Bat. Frank led, with Big Bat close behind him. Then came the lieutenant, and Reporter Finerty, and in long single file the troopers, with Packer John Becker closing the rear.
Joyce, th' Irish pote that wrote th' pome about th' wa-ars whin me people raysisted Cromwell, while yours was carryin' turf on their backs to make fires for th' crool invader, as Finerty says whin th' sub-scriptions r-runs low.
Men crooked their backs and perspired in order to rub with cloths or bunches of grass these slim equine legs, upon whose splendid machinery they depended so greatly. The lips of the horses were still wet and frothy from the steel bars which had wrenched at their mouths all day. Over their backs and about their noses sped the talk of the men. "Moind where yer plug is steppin', Finerty!
Keep 'im aff me!" "An ould elephant! He shtrides like a schoolhouse." "Bill's little mar she was plum beat when she come in with Crawford's crowd." "Crawford's the hardest-ridin' cavalryman in the army. An he don't use up a horse, neither much. They stay fresh when the others are most a-droppin'." "Finerty, will yeh moind that cow a yours?"
Men crooked their backs and perspired in order to rub with cloths or bunches of grass these slim equine legs, upon whose splendid machinery they depended so greatly. The lips of the horses were still wet and frothy from the steel bars which had wrenched at their mouths all day. Over their backs and about their noses sped the talk of the men. "Moind where yer plug is steppin', Finerty!
They appeared uncertain whether to pursue. Soon Frank turned into an old, narrow pony trail, pointing still westward as if to cross the first range. "This is an old Sioux hunting trail," he called, over his shoulder, to the lieutenant and Reporter Finerty. "It leads clear to the snowy range. If we can get there our chances are pretty fair." The trail was good.
I have me information fr'm Hinnissy, an' Hinnissy have it fr'm Willum Joyce, an' ye know how close Joyce is to Finerty. Hinnissy was in last night. 'Well, says I, 'what's th' news? I says. 'News? says he. 'They'se on'y wan thing talked about, he says. 'We're goin' to have a war with England, he says. 'An' th' whole Irish army has inlisted, he says.
Civilian Finerty had many thoughts while he aimed, fired, and loaded. He remembered the warning by General Crook. He rather wished that he had stayed safe in the big camp. He almost wished that he had never left Chicago. How far away Chicago seemed!
Keep 'im aff me!" "An ould elephant! He shtrides like a school-house." "Bill's little mar' she was plum beat when she come in with Crawford's crowd." "Crawford's the hardest-ridin' cavalryman in the army. An' he don't use up a horse, neither much. They stay fresh when the others are most a-droppin'." "Finerty, will yeh moind that cow a yours?"
They did not stop; they had passed outside the trail; they were on the flank of the main body; no warriors followed; the scouts and soldiers and Civilian Finerty let down their rifle hammers to half cock. There would be no fight. It had been such a strain that now everybody except the two scouts went to sleep, while Frank and Big Bat stayed on watch.
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