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King, Charles, 1844-1933

"A Daughter of the Sioux A Tale of the Indian frontier"

Who could tell what the day might yet bring forth?
It was well nigh dark before the foremost reached the ford--a scout in
worn and tawdry buckskin, wearied and impassive. He gave his despatch to
the care of the first officer to accost him and took the way to the
store, briefly saying in reply to questions, that he was "too dry to
speak the truth." So they flocked, at respectful distance, about the
major as he read the hurried lines. The general bade the post commander
wire the entire message to Washington, and to take all precautions for
the protection of the few settlers about him. The columns under Colonel
Henry and Major Webb had united near the head waters of the Clear Fork
of the Powder; had had a rattling running fight with Lame Wolf's people;
had driven them into the mountains and were following hot on the trail,
but that Stabber's band and certain disaffected Sioux had cut loose from
the main body and gone south. Whistling Elk, a young chief of much
ambition had quarrelled with certain of the Red Cloud element, and
joined Stabber, with his entire band. "Look out for them and watch for
signals any day or night from Eagle Butte."
Flint read with sinking heart. Indian fighting was something far too
scientific for his martial education and too much for his skeleton
command.


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