many of the women
were almost in hysterics and all were in deep distress. Two of their
number, wives of officers, were widowed by the catastrophe, and one lay
senseless for hours. It was almost dark when Mr. Folsom and the girls
drove homeward, and his face was lined and haggard. Pappoose nestled
fondly, silently at his side, holding his hand and closely scanning his
features, as though striving to read his thoughts. Jessie, comforted now
by the knowledge that Marshall was rapidly recovering, and the words of
praise bestowed upon him in the colonel's letters, was nevertheless in
deep anxiety as to the future. The assurance that the Sioux, even in
their overwhelming numbers, would not attack a stockade, was not
sufficient. Marshall would be on duty again within a very few days, the
colonel said. His wounds would heal within the week, and it was only
loss of so much blood that had prostrated him. Within a few days, then,
her loved brother would be in saddle and in the field against the
Indians. Who could assure her they would not have another pitched
battle? Who could say that the fate that befell the garrison at Warrior
Gap might not await the troop when next it rode away? And poor Jess had
other anxieties, too, by this time. Loomis was burning with eagerness
for orders to lead it instantly to join the field column, and importuned
Colonel Stevens, even in the midst of all the grief and shock of the
early evening. Almost angrily the veteran colonel bade him attend to his
assigned duties and not demand others. "C" Troop should not with his
advice and consent be sent north of the Platte. "First thing you know,
sir, after they've got all the troops up along the Big Horn you'll see
the Sioux in force this side of the river, murdering right and left, and
not a company to oppose them. No, sir, more than enough of that troop
have already been sacrificed! The rest shall stay here."

And well was it, for one and all, that "Old Pecksniff" held firm to his
decision. It was one of his lucid intervals.

Late that evening, after ten o'clock, there came the sound of hoof-beats
on the hard road and the crack of the long-lashed mule-whip, and the
fort ambulance clattered up to Folsom's gate, and the colonel himself,
his adjutant by his side, came nervously up the gravel walk. Folsom met
them at his door. Instinctively he felt that something new and startling
was added to the catalogue of the day's disastrous tidings. Pecksniff's
face was