IN DOUBT.

Like wildfire the news of the fight at Wounded Knee swept along the lines, and the brave Boys in Blue nerved themselves to do and dare, and to avenge their gallant comrades of the Seventh.

The noble Wallace had fallen, and died, sword in hand, with his foes about him, Lieutenant Garlington, a popular officer and utterly fearless, had been severely wounded, and Lieutenant Harthorn was another brave man wearing the shoulder-straps to suffer.

The Seventh had been well-nigh wiped out upon the fatal field where the lamented Custer fell years before, and now, when taunting the prisoners they had taken another attempt had been made to annihilate utterly the regiment that had so won the hatred of the Sioux, and but for the pluck of its soldiers it would have been successful.

Following the news of the treacherous attack of the braves of Chief Big Foot, led by the Red Hatchet, came the startling tidings that the fearless and able chieftain, who had met the unexpected attack so bravely and well, had been removed from his command in the very face of the foe he had thus far vanquished.

It was a bitter blow to the men in the field, to know that "Colonel Forsythe, of the Seventh, had been relieved from duty."

Of course, officers and men knew that they must suffer attacks, because a few people in the far off East would urge that the Indian must be subdued with tracts and argument, and would be excused for killing the soldiers, when the soldiers would be tried for striking back.

But that is a part of the soldiers' hard lot to bear, or, as it has been briefly put, to "die fighting for one's country," and have their names spelled wrong in the report of the battle.

Officers talked in low tones over the affair at Wounded Knee Creek, and the stories afloat regarding it, and wondered if they were to be allowed to fight a foe ever cunning, treacherous, cruel, yet brave.

The effect of the battle, too, upon the Sioux was to send other bands to the Bad Lands, to make those more determined to fight, and to render the younger warriors wild with the hope of butchery, scalps, and plunder.

And among the camps, around the bivouac fires, and round the mess tables, the name of Kit Carey was upon every lip.

The services that he had rendered, with the aid of his Indian scouts, were well known and appreciated, and those who had seen him in the action at Wounded Knee Creek had told stories of his reckless daring, and deadly work at close quarters.

"One minute sooner and he would have saved poor Wallace," said Captain Taylor, sadly.

"You saw Wallace fall, did you not, Taylor?" asked Captain Carrol.

"Yes, though I was at a distance from him, as you know. I had my glass to my eye, and saw Wallace come out of a tepee dragging a chief by the shoulder. Then he was set upon by four others, and at once stood at bay. He had his revolver and sword only, and fired slowly and with deadly aim, while the Sioux rushed upon him. The chief, whom he could have killed, but instead had taken prisoner, also attacked him, and he it was who sprang upon him with his tomahawk. The brave Wallace ran him through with his sword, but he could not avoid the deadly blow of the tomahawk, and it was the last wound and fatal, for he had several others. A moment more and Carey came bounding toward him, and it was woe unto the Sioux that barred his way. I watched him, too, in action, and a more splendid fighter I never saw. He was perfectly cool, fired to kill, and when he came to where Wallace lay, dropped on his knees by his side. But only for an instant, for soon after two of his Indians rode up to him with his horse, and mounting he spurred away, and I saw him no more."

"It is said that he asked Colonel Forsythe to let him pursue Red Hatchet, who was the one who began the massacre," Lieutenant Ray said.

"Yes, and he'll catch him yet, for he now commands the scouting line nearest the hostiles, and an Indian does not know himself any better than does Kit Carey know him."

"I believe you are right," said another officer.

"He is as gentle as a woman in peace, and as courteous as a Chesterfield to all; but rouse him to action and he is a man for an enemy to steer clear of."

And among the camps of the men the stories also went around about Kit Carey's raid after Sitting Bull, his conduct in the fight at Wounded Knee Creek, and his then holding the perilous position of scouting close to the Bad Lands, and with Cheyenne soldiers, too, whom many feared would be won over to join the hostiles, in which case their white captain would have, indeed, to face the deadliest of perils, which even his courage and skill could hardly rescue him from.

But still the white captain and his red men held their position close to the Bad Lands, and reports regularly came in of every movement of the hostiles.

Then there came into the various army camps, of the different commands, the startling news that Red Hatchet, having escaped from Wounded Knee battleground, had gone on a raid with a number of his braves, and had captured and carried back to the Bad Lands the beautiful Daughter of Settler Vance Bernard.

This news came too straight to be doubted, for it was brought by one of Kit Carey's own Indian couriers, and, more, it was said that the scouting officer had pursued Red Hatchet with his captive, been beaten back from an ambush, and while his Cheyenne soldiers had returned to their posts their white captain had not put in an appearance.

"Does this mean that Kit Carey has fallen?" was the question all asked, yet not one could answer.