The Plow-Woman Part 27

It was a roar that fairly shook the lean-to. Simon flung up his head.

Fearful for his safety, Lancaster dodged to the left, stumbled, overturned, and went down with a cry. "Dallas--help!"

A cry answered him. The mules reared. Then, out of the gloom plunged a red bulk, head lowered, tail straight. There was a second roar, a crash, as the stable door flew outward, an in-rush of frigid air, and the swirling sound of wind and sleet. And Simon, leaping something that was lying at the entrance, shot on into the blizzard.

Early morning of the next day, as the Lancasters were enjoying a breakfast of roasted pork, cooked by a scantling of Simon's manger, they heard the storm renew its fury in strange noises that were like the human voice. The warped door creaked, the latch rattled.

They paid little attention to it, being fairly content with the strange good fortune that had left a fat frozen pig in the snow outside the lean-to. The stable had been nailed tight again, and there were enough scantlings in it to last out three or four days. Marylyn was better, having rallied swiftly on a diet of rich broth. Even Ben and Betty were not unhappy, for they were greedily consuming the hay of the bedticks.

"Sam Patch's sh.o.r.e bustin' loose," observed the section-boss, selecting a second juicy rib and salting it from end to end. The salt spilled. He flickered a pinch over one shoulder.

_Boof!_ _boof!_ _boof!_ _bang!_ came the m.u.f.fled sounds from without.

"The harder it howls now the sooner it'll get over it," answered Dallas, piling on more wood.

Lancaster lit his pipe. "Danged glad Ah got t'baccy."

_Hey! hey!_ yelled the storm.

Marylyn looked up from a book. "Sounds as if men are outside," she said.

"Listen!"

They listened, straining their ears.

Something thumped the warped door. They started up. A moment, and a thread of light came through the gap above the latch.

"They is!" cried the section-boss.

A cheer replied. A sharp command was sung out to them. "Keep back! Out of the way!"

Again the door was thumped; then great pressure was put upon it. It opened, letting in a half-dozen men and a wide path of warm sunlight.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" "Folks, you snowed in?" "Thank G.o.d, you're all right."

"The basket, boys, the basket."

"W'y, Lawd!" cried the section-boss, winking against the light; "ain't they no blizzard?"

A trooper with a chevroned sleeve saluted them. His air was jaunty. His face beamed. "There _was_, sir, last night," he said gaily, "but there hain't none now. Clear has ha bell, sir."

"Y' fr'm th' Post?" demanded Lancaster, trying to look severe.

He of the chevrons waved his companions out. "Hi'm from Hingland, sir,"

he answered. "Sergeant Kippis his my name. Will you 'ave some 'soldier's coffee,' sir?"

Dallas hurried past him and into the newly dug tunnel. Overhead was a serene sky. Between shack and river lay a dazzling mile of drifts. And midway, brisket deep, but advancing resolutely, and bugling at every floundering step, was Simon!

CHAPTER XVI

BACK FROM THE WINTER CAMP

"Well, Captain?" It was partly a greeting full of relief, partly an eager inquiry, as Colonel c.u.mmings came hurrying out of his library to meet Oliver in the entry.

The latter straightened a little, but hesitated deprecatingly before taking the colonel's hand. "I've nothing to report but failure, sir," he said.

The stinging wind that had blown the command home into barracks, and scourged the humped shoulders of the men and the thin flanks of their mounts, had cut the flesh over the captain's high cheek-bones until it was red and raw. The lower part of his face was hidden under a growth that matched his drooping moustache. On his forehead and about his eyes, the skin was a dark sallow, marked by a lattice of deep lines--lines of worry and weariness.

"Nothing to report but failure," he repeated, and let the orderly pull off his stiffened overcoat.

"The troop?" asked Colonel c.u.mmings, anxiously.

"All safe." The other hung his cap on a nail, his belt upon his overcoat.

"Thank Heaven! That storm--I was afraid. Where did it catch you?"

"On the Knife. We put up with some half-breeds. It was hard on the horses, but a rest for the men."

The colonel led the way into the library.

On his entrance, a figure in the dusk behind the stove sprang up with a questioning cry. It was young Jamieson.

"Easy, easy, for G.o.d's sake!" begged the captain. He put out one arm as if to ward off a blow.

Jamieson brought up. He saw the look of defeat in Oliver's bloodshot eyes, and his voice quaked, his body shuddered in mortal terror of what he was to hear.

"It's bad news, but not as bad as it might be," began the captain.

Colonel c.u.mmings offered him a chair. He dropped into it. "It is said that your mother and sister are alive, and will be delivered up to us in the spring, provided there are no executions here. But--I didn't see them, and I don't know where they are."

Jamieson coughed down a heart-broken protest, and, as if stunned, tottered weakly toward the stove.

Colonel c.u.mmings knotted his hands together. "Where's Matthews?" he asked.

He was answered by the slamming of the outside door, and by a voice in the entry; a moment later, there was a sharp tattoo on the library door.

The colonel opened it and answered the interpreter's salute.

With Matthews seated on the army cot, and the commanding officer pacing to and fro, Captain Oliver made his report. He stood at the window, his arms folded, his eyes following his superior.

"We located the camp easily," he said. "The directions given by the hostages were exact. But that is about the only thing that did come easily. The rest was all procrastination.

"At noon, on the tenth day out, we saw, ahead of us on a ridge, a single Indian. I selected four men to make a swift detour, thinking that perhaps they would discover a hunting-party just over the crest. But the slope beyond was unoccupied, and there were only the marks of one pair of moccasins. I concluded that the solitary brave was scouting, and I was right.

"A few miles farther, we sighted a half-dozen Indians. They were watching us from a hill. I called a halt. Then I took two men and Mr.

Matthews and made forward. We carried a truce flag. They let us come within talking distance. They knew, I am sure, why we were there. But they asked no questions--just told us that the command was expected to advance no farther than a grove that lay a little ahead, to our right. I a.s.sented to that, and said I wished a conference with their head-chief.

They promised me an answer later on, and at once withdrew to a rise a mile behind. There they stayed until, after a careful reconnoitre, we entered the grove.