But Carl’s way was not clear yet. He had one hundred and twenty-five miles to go before he would be among friends, and not a mouthful to eat while he was travelling that distance. It was true that he had revolvers in his pockets, and that jack rabbits were plenty. He had matches, too, in his possession, so that he could cook the meat after he shot it, but the report of his revolver might start the Indians looking for him. The boy thought of this as he sped on his way, and by the time daylight arrived he stood upon the banks of Grand River, which separated him from the trail that led to Fort Scott. Before he took to the willows he looked cautiously around, but there were no Indians to be seen.

“Those Indians who were going to the Bad Lands to fight the whites must have gone by the upper trail,” said Carl, as he took off his Page 330 blanket and drew his revolvers, which he took in one hand and held above his head. “If that is the case I am all right. Lie there,” he added, throwing the blanket into the willows. “I have carried you twenty-five miles, and you haven’t done me any good, either.”

Carl took another glance around to make sure that the way was clear, and entered the water. He did not know how deep the water was, but by swimming and wading alternately he managed to cross the river, and without any more reconnoitering he struck out straight for the fort. During all his lonely journey he did not see an Indian, or a white man, either, to whom he could give the news of Sitting Bull’s death—for it was the source of a great deal of satisfaction to him. The brains of the Sioux nation were gone, and where would they look to find another man to take his place? Every time he thought of it he felt like yelling; and one time he did raise his voice, but stopped all of a sudden, and glanced around to see if there was anybody within hearing.

The day passed away and night came on, Page 331 but the fort was every moment drawing nearer. He was tired and sleepy, but he could not think of stopping to rest until he conveyed the news to the commander of Fort Scott. He was certain that there had not been anybody along the trail, for he would have seen them; so he was going to be the first to carry the information. About twelve o’clock he became aware that he was at his journey’s end. He heard a challenge directly in front of him, and Carl came to a standstill. It seemed to him that the corporal was a long time in coming, but he heard the gate unfastened at last, and the non-commissioned officer came out.

“Who are you?” he asked, bending over and looking into Carl’s face.

“Well, I guess I have got a right here,” said the young scout. “Don’t you know me?”

“By gracious!” exclaimed the corporal. “Carl, the Trailer!”

“That is just what they call me when I am here among friends. I am tired and sleepy, but I want first to see the colonel. I have a report to make to him.”

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“Come in. Lieutenant Parker is officer of the guard, and I know he will be delighted to see you. He has been on nettles every time your name is mentioned.”

Lieutenant Parker was standing in front of his quarters waiting to see what the corporal was going to find outside the gate, and when he saw the two coming along the parade he came quickly toward them.

“I have got him, sir,” said the corporal.

If we were to say that the two boys were delighted to see each other we should fall far short of the truth. Carl held out his hand, but the lieutenant paid no attention to it. He rushed in, caught Carl around his arms, and whirled him with his feet clear of the ground, all unmindful of the presence of the corporal. Then he put him down and seized him by the hand.

“I tell you I can rest in peace now,” said Parker. “Carl, how do you do? How did you escape?”

“I’ve got a long story to tell you,” said Carl, “but first I must see the colonel. I ought to report to him the first thing I do.”

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“Come in here with me just a minute and then you can call on the colonel,” said the lieutenant, leading the way into his quarters. “I want to look at you.”

“Say,” said Carl in a lower tone, as the lieutenant closed the door behind him, “Sitting Bull is dead.”

Parker had picked up a chair to place it for Carl to sit down, but he stopped when these words fell upon his ear and put the chair down again.

“Yes, sir,” said Carl. “He resisted arrest and he was shot dead.”

“Why—why—who told you?” asked Parker.

“A courier came into the camp and reported it, and I jumped at the chance for escape.”

“Who killed him?”

“The Indian police. Now, do you think I ought to report that to the colonel or wait until morning?”

“Go at once and report it. So Sitting Bull is dead. Come back here after you see the colonel and tell me your story.”

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“I will, after I get something to eat and put some extra clothes on. I haven’t had these duds off for a week.”

“I will get you something to eat,” said the lieutenant. “I am anxious to hear what Sitting Bull did.”

The two boys went out, and Carl bent his steps toward the colonel’s room. The orderly, who sat at a table in the hall reading, was overjoyed to see Carl once more, and after listening to his report that he had something to say to the commander that ought not to be kept until to-morrow, went into where the colonel was lying.

“He will see you,” said he. “He won’t get up.”

The colonel was sitting up in bed, striving with both hands to make his few gray hairs cover his bald head, but he extended a palm to Carl and greeted him warmly.

“So General Miles took me at my word, did he?” he asked.

“General Miles?” repeated Carl. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Why, I sent him notice that you had Page 335 been captured by the Sioux band when they were not on the warpath, and requested him to demand your surrender.”

“This is the first I heard of it, sir,” said Carl, who wondered that the colonel thought so much of him as all that. “If he sent any word to the Sioux I don’t know it.”

The commander looked surprised but said nothing, and Carl went on with his report. He looked more surprised as he listened, asked a few questions to get at all Carl knew about th............