The Deserter

The Deserter, by Charles King

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Title: The Deserter
Author: Charles King
Release Date: August 20, 2005 [EBook #16557]
Language: English
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THE DESERTER,
BY
CAPT. CHARLES KING, U.S.A.,

AUTHOR OF "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," "MARION'S
FAITH," "KITTY'S CONQUEST," ETC., ETC.
Transcribers note This e-book of The Deserter is based upon the edition
found in The Deserter, and From the Ranks. Two Novels, by Capt.
Charles King. Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott Company, 1890. From the
Ranks is also available as a Project Gutenberg e-book.
PHILADELPHIA: J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
1890
Copyright, 1887, by J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.

THE DESERTER.

PRELUDE.
Far up in the Northwest, along the banks of the broad, winding stream
the Sioux call the Elk, a train of white-topped army-wagons is slowly
crawling eastward. The October sun is hot at noon-day, and the dust
from the loose soil rises like heavy smoke and powders every face and
form in the guarding battalion so that features are wellnigh
indistinguishable. Four companies of stalwart, sinewy infantry, with
their brown rifles slung over the shoulder, are striding along in
dispersed order, covering the exposed southern flank from sudden
attack, while farther out along the ridge-line, and far to the front and
rear, cavalry skirmishers and scouts are riding to and fro, searching
every hollow and ravine, peering cautiously over every "divide," and
signalling "halt" or "forward" as the indications warrant.
And yet not a hostile Indian has been seen; not one, even as distant
vedette, has appeared in range of the binoculars, since the scouts rode
in at daybreak to say that big bands were in the immediate
neighborhood. It has been a long, hard summer's work for the troops,

and the Indians have been, to all commands that boasted strength or
swiftness, elusive as the Irishman's flea of tradition. Only to those
whose numbers were weak or whose movements were hampered have
they appeared in fighting-trim. But combinations have been too much
for them, and at last they have been "herded" down to the Elk, have
crossed, and are now seeking to make their way, with women, children,
tepees, dogs, "travois," and the great pony herds, to the fastnesses of
the Big Horn; and now comes the opportunity for which an old
Indian-fighter has been anxiously waiting. In a big cantonment he has
held the main body under his command, while keeping out constant
scouting-parties to the east and north. He knows well that, true to their
policy, the Indians will have scattered into small bands capable of
reassembling anywhere that signal smokes may call them, and his
orders are to watch all the crossings of the Elk and nab them as they
come into his district. He watches, despite the fact that it is his
profound conviction that the Indians will be no such idiots as to come
just where they are wanted, and he is in no wise astonished when a
courier comes in on jaded horse to tell him that they have "doubled" on
the other column and are now two or three days' march away down
stream, "making for the big bend." His own scouting-parties are still
out to the eastward: he can pick them up as he goes. He sends the main
body of his infantry, a regiment jocularly known as "The Riflers," to
push for a landing some fifty miles down-stream, scouting the lower
valley of the Sweet Root on the way. He sends his wagon-train,
guarded by four companies of foot and two of horsemen, by the only
practicable road to the bend, while he, with ten seasoned "troops" of his
pet regiment, the ----th Cavalry, starts forthwith on a long détour in
which he hopes to "round up" such bands as may have slipped away
from the general rush. Even as "boots and saddles" is sounding, other
couriers come riding in from Lieutenant Crane's party. He has struck
the trail of a big band.
When the morning sun dawns on the picturesque valley in which the
cantonment nestled but the day before, it illumines an almost deserted
village, and brings no joy to the souls of some twoscore of embittered
civilians who had arrived only the day previous, and whose unanimous
verdict is that the army is a fraud and ought to be abolished. For four

months or more some three regiments had