Part 12

WE have just come in from a drive to the Purgatoire with Colonel Knight behind his handsome horses. It makes me sad, always, to go over that familiar road and to scenes that are so closely associated with my learning to ride and shoot when we were here before. The small tree that was my target is dead but still standing, and on it are several little pieces of the white paper bull's eyes that Faye and Lieutenant Baldwin tacked on it for me.

We often see poor Tom. The post trader bought him after Lieutenant Baldwin's death, so the dear horse would always have good care and not be made to bring and carry for a cruel master. He wanders about as he chooses and is fat, but the coat that was once so silky and glossy is now dull and faded, and the horse looks spiritless and dejected. Poor Tom! The greyhound, Magic, still remembers their many, many hunts together when the horse would try to outrun the dog, and the hound often goes out to make him little visits, and the sight is pathetic. That big dog of the chaplain's is still here, and how the good man can conscientiously have him about, I cannot understand.

Colonel Knight has two large dogs also, but they are shut in the stable most of the time to guard his pair of valuable horses. The horses are not particularly fast or spirited, but they are very beautiful and perfectly matched in color and gait.

Ever since Hal has been old enough to run with a horse, he has always gone with me riding or driving. So the first time we drove with Colonel Knight I called Hal to go with us and he ran out of the house and over the fence with long joyful bounds, to be instantly pounced upon, and rolled over into the acequia by the two big dogs of Colonel Knight's that I had not even heard of! Hal has splendid fighting blood and has never shown cowardice, but he is still a young dog and inexperienced, and no match for even one old fighter, and to have two notoriously savage, bloodthirsty beasts gnawing at him as though he was a bone was terrible. But Hal apparently never thought of running from them, and after the one howl of surprise gave his share of vicious growls and snaps. But the old dogs were protected by their heavy hair, while Hal's short coat and fine skin were easily torn.

We all rushed to his rescue, for it looked as though he would be torn in pieces, and when I saw a long cut in his tender skin I was frantic. But finally the two black dogs were pulled off and Hal was dragged out of the ditch and back to the house, holding back and growling all the time, which showed plainly he was not satisfied with the way the affair had ended. The drive that day I did not enjoy!

Hal was not torn so deeply as to have unsightly scars, for which I was thankful. From that day on, however, he not only hated those dogs, but disliked the man who cares for them, and seemed to consider him responsible for their very existence. And it was wonderful that he should recognize Cressy's step on the ground as he passed at the side of our house. Several times when he would be stretched out on the floor, to all appearances fast asleep, I have seen him open his eyes wide and growl when the man and dogs were passing, although it was perfectly impossible for him to have seen them.

One morning about ten days ago when I was on the second floor, I heard an awful noise downstairs--whines, growls, and howls all so mingled together one would have thought there were a dozen dogs in the house. I ran down to see what could possibly be the matter, and found Hal at a window in the dining room that looked out on the back yard, every hair on his brindled back standing straight up and each white tooth showing. Looking out I saw that Turk, the more savage of the two black dogs, was in the yard and could not get out over the high board fence. Cressy was probably on guard that day, and sentry over the prisoners who had brought water. The dog must have followed him in and then managed to get left.

Hal looked up at me, and for one instant kept perfectly still, waiting to see what I would do. His big brown eyes were almost human in their beseeching, and plainly said, "You cannot have forgotten--you will surely let me out!" And let him out I did. I opened the doors leading to the yard, and almost pushing me over he rushed to the black dog with great leaps and the most blood-curdling growls, jumping straight over him, then around him, then over him again and again, and so like a whirlwind, the poor black beast was soon crazy, for snap as fast as he might, it was ever at the clear, beautiful air. Hal was always just out of reach.

After he had worried the dog all he wanted to Hal proceeded to business. With a greyhound trick, he swung himself around with great force and knocked the big dog flat upon the ground, and holding him down with his two paws he pulled out mouthful after mouthful of long hair, throwing it out of his mouth right and left. If the dog attempted to raise his big head Hal was quick to give a wicked snap that made the head fall down again. When I saw that Hal had actually conquered the dog and had proved that he-was the splendid hound I had ever considered him to be, I told West to go out at once and separate them. But for the very first time West was slow--he went like a snail. It seemed that one of the dogs had snapped at his leg once, and I believe he would have been delighted if Hal had gnawed the dog flesh and bone. He pulled Hal in by his collar and opened the gate for Turk, and soon things were quite once more.

All that day Hal's eyes were like stars, and one could almost see a grin on his mouth. He was ever on the alert, and would frequently look out on the yard, wag his tail and growl. The strangest thing about it all is, that not once since that morning has he paid the slightest attention to Cressy or the two dogs, except to growl a little when they have happened to meet. Turk must have told his companion about the fight, for he, too, finds attractions in another direction when he sees Hal coming.

Some of our friends have found pleasure in teasing me about my sporting taste, private arena, and so on, but I do not mind so very much, since the fight brought about peace, and proved that Hal has plenty of pluck. Those two Knight dogs are looked upon as savage wolves by every mother in the garrison, and when it is known that they are out, mothers and nurses run to gather in their small people.

Hal has developed a taste for hunting that has been giving trouble lately, when he has run off with Magic and the other hounds. So now he is chained until after guard mounting, by which time the pack has gone. The signal officer of the department was here the other day when Faye and men from the company were out signaling, and after luncheon I told West to go out to him on Powder-Face and lead King, so he could ride the horse in, instead of coming in the wagon with the men. Late in the afternoon West came back and reported that he had been unable to find Faye, and then with much hesitation and choking he told me that he had lost Hal!

He said that as they had gone up a little hill, they had surprised a small band of antelope that were grazing rather near on the other side, and that the hound started after them like a streak, pulling one down before they had crossed the lowland, and then, not being satisfied, he had raced on again after the band that had disappeared over a hill farther on. That was the last he saw of him. West said that he wanted to bring the dead antelope to the post, but could not, as both horses objected to it.

My heart was almost broken over the loss of my dog, and I started for my own room to indulge in a good cry when, as I passed the front door that was open, I happened to look out, and there, squatted down on the walk to the gate was Hal! I ran out to pet him, but drew back in horror when I saw the condition he was in. His long nose and all of his white chest were covered with a thick coating of coarse antelope hair plastered in with dried blood. The dog seemed too tired to move, and sat there with a listless, far-away look that made me wish he could tell all about his hunt, and if he had lost the second poor little antelope. West almost danced from joy when he saw him, and lost no time in giving him a bath and putting him in his warm bed. Greyhounds are often great martyrs to rheumatism, and Deacon, one of the pack, will sometimes howl from pain after a hunt. And the howl of a greyhound is far-reaching and something to be remembered.

Very soon now I will be with you! Faye has decided to close the house and live with the bachelors while I am away. This will be much more pleasant for him than staying here all alone.

FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, October, 1873.

THE trip out was tiresome and seemed endless, but nothing worth mentioning happened until I got to Granada, where Faye met me with an ambulance and escort wagon. It was after two o'clock in the morning when the train reached the station, and as it is the terminus of the road, every passenger left the car. I waited a minute for Faye to come in, but as he did not I went out also, feeling that something was wrong.

Just as I stepped off the car, Mr. Davis, quartermaster's clerk, appeared and took my satchel, assuring me that Faye was right there waiting for me. This was so very unlike Faye's way of doing things, that at once I suspected that the real truth was not being told. But I went with him quickly through the little crowd, and on up the platform, and then I saw Faye. He was standing at one corner of the building--all alone, and I recognized him instantly by the long light-blue overcoat and big campaign hat with brim turned up.

And I saw also, standing on the corner of the platform in front of him, a soldier with rifle in hand, and on the end of it glistening in the moonlight was a long bayonet! I had lived with troops long enough to know that the bayonet would not be there unless the soldier was a sentry guarding somebody or something. I naturally turned toward Faye, but was held back by Mr. Davis, and that made me indignant, but Faye at once said quietly and in a voice just loud enough for me to hear, "Get in the ambulance and ask no questions!" And still he did not move from the corner. By this time I was terribly frightened and more and more puzzled. Drawn up close to the farther side of the platform was an ambulance, also an escort wagon, in which sat several soldiers, and handing my trunk checks to Mr. Davis, I got, into the ambulance, my teeth chattering as though I had a chill.

The very instant the trunks were loaded Faye and the sentry came, and after ordering the corporal to keep his wagon and escort close to us, and telling me to drop down in the bottom of the ambulance if I heard a shot, Faye got on the ambulance also, but in front with the driver. Leaning forward, I saw that one revolver was in his hand and the other on the seat by his side. In this way, and in perfect silence, we rode through the town and until we were well out on the open plain, when we stopped just long enough for Faye to get inside, and a soldier from the wagon to take his seat by the driver.

Then Faye told me of what had occurred to make necessary all these precautions. He had come over from Fort Lyon the day before, and had been with Major Carroll, the depot quartermaster, during the afternoon and evening. The men had established a little camp just at the edge of the miserable town where the mules could be guarded and cared for.

About nine o'clock Faye and Mr. Davis started out for a walk, but before they had gone far Faye remembered that he had left his pistols and cartridge belt on a desk in the quartermaster's office, and fearing they might be stolen they went back for them. He put the pistols on underneath his heavy overcoat, as the belt was quite too short to fasten outside.

Well, he and Mr. Davis walked along slowly in the bright moonlight past the many saloons and gambling places, never once thinking of danger, when suddenly from a dark passageway a voice said, "You are the man I want," and bang! went a pistol shot close to Faye's head--so close, in fact, that as he ducked his head down, when he saw the pistol pointed at him, the rammer slot struck his temple and cut a deep hole that at once bled profusely. Before Faye could get out one of his own pistols from underneath the long overcoat, another shot was fired, and then away skipped Mr. Davis, leaving Faye standing alone in the brilliant moonlight. As soon as Faye commenced to shoot, his would-be assassin came out from the dark doorway and went slowly along the walk, taking good care, however, to keep himself well in the shadow of the buildings.

They went on down the street shooting back and forth at each other, Faye wondering all the time why he could not hit the man. Once he got him in front of a restaurant window where there was a bright light back of him, and, taking careful aim, he thought the affair could be ended right there, but the ball whizzed past the man and went crashing through the window and along the tables, sending broken china right and left. Finally their pistols were empty, and Faye drew out a second, at the sight of which the man started to run and disappeared in the shadows.

As soon as the shooting ceased men came out from all sorts of places, and there was soon a little crowd around Faye, asking many questions, but he and Major Carroll went to a drug store, where his wounds could be dressed. For some time it was thought there must be a ball in the deep hole in his temple. When Faye had time to think he understood why he had done such poor shooting. He is an almost sure shot, but always holds his pistol in his left hand, and of course aims with his left eye. But that night his left eye was filled with blood the very first thing from the wound in his left temple, which forced him unconsciously to aim with his right eye, which accounts for the wild shots.

The soldiers heard of the affair in camp, and several came up on a run and stood guard at the drug store. A rumor soon got around that Oliver had gone off to gather some of his friends, and they would soon be at the store to finish the work. Very soon, however, a strange man came in, much excited, and said, "Lieutenant! Oliver's pals are getting ready to attack you at the depot as the train comes in," and out he went. The train was due at two o'clock A. M., and this caused Faye four hours of anxiety. He learned that the man who shot at him was "Billy Oliver," a horse thief and desperado of the worst type, and that he was the leader of a band of horse thieves that was then in town. To be threatened by men like those was bad enough in itself, but Faye knew that I would arrive on that train. That was the cause of so much caution when the train came in. There were several rough-looking men at the station, but if they had intended mischief, the long infantry rifles in the hands of drilled soldiers probably persuaded them to attend to their own affairs. A man told the corporal, however, that Oliver's friends had decided not to kill Faye at the station, but had gone out on horseback to meet him on the road. This was certainly misery prolonged.

The mules were driven through the town at an ordinary gait, but when we got on the plain they were put at a run, and for miles we came at that pace. The little black shaved-tails pulled the ambulance, and I think that for once they had enough run. The moonlight was wonderfully bright, and for a long distance objects could be seen, and bunches of sage bush and Spanish bayonet took the forms of horsemen, and naturally I saw danger in every little thing we passed.

One thing occurred that night that deserves mentioning. Some one told the soldiers that Oliver was hidden in a certain house, and one of them, a private, started off without leave, and all alone for that house. When he got there the entire building was dark, not a light in it, except that of the moon which streamed in through two small windows. But the gritty soldier went boldly in and searched every little room and every little corner, even the cellar, but not a living thing was found. It may have been brave, but it was a dreadful thing for the trooper to do, for he so easily could have been murdered in the darkness, and Faye and the soldiers never have known what had become of him. Colonel Bissell declares that the man shall be made a corporal upon the first vacancy.