A
steward was remonstrating, and only vaguely at first, Field grasped the
meaning of his words:--
"The captain said you were not to try to follow, Kennedy, at least not
until Dr. Waller saw you. Wait till he gets here. He can't be three
miles back now."
"To hell wid ye!" was the vehement answer. "D'ye think I'd be
maundherin' here wid the whole command gone on afther thim bloody Sioux.
I've made my mark on wan o' thim, an' he's the buck I'm afther."
"He's made his mark on _you_, Kennedy," broke in a soldier voice. "You
mad fool, trying to tackle a chief like that--even if he was hit, for he
had his whole gang behind him."
"Sure he dared me out, an'--what's this he called me? a d----d whiskey
thafe!--me that niver----"
"Oh, shut up, Kennedy," laughed a brother Irishman. "You were full as a
goat at 'K' Troop's stables--Where'd ye get the whiskey if----"
"I'll lay you, Lanigan, when I get two hands agin, though I misdoubt wan
would do it. It's me horse I want now and lave to go on wid the capt'n.
Ready now, sir," he added, with sudden change of tone and manner, for a
tall, slender form came striding into the fire light, and Field knew
Blake at the instant, and would have called but for the first word from
the captain's lips.
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