er. Old John Folsom lay
with bandaged head and blinded eyes in a darkened room, assiduously
nursed by Pappoose and Jessie, who in turn were devotedly attended by
Mrs. Fletcher. Possessed of some strange nervous excitement, this
energetic woman was tireless in her effort to be of use. Minus ten of
their very best, "C" Troop still camped at Emory, the General holding it
for possible escort duty, and, to his huge delight, young Loomis was
assigned to command it until Dean should return. There came a day when
the news arrived from Frayne that the Laramie column had crossed the
Platte and marched on for the Big Horn, and then John Folsom began to
mend and was allowed to sit up, and told the doctor he had need to see
Major Burleigh without delay, but Burleigh could not leave his bed, said
the physician in attendance--a very different practitioner from
Folsom's--and the old man began to fret and fume, and asked for writing
materials. He wrote Burleigh a note, and the doctor forbade his
patient's reading anything. Major Burleigh, said he, was a very sick
man, and in a wretchedly nervous condition. Serious consequences were
feared unless utter quiet could be assured.

Then Folsom was pronounced well enough to be taken out for a drive, and
he and Pappoose had the back seat together, while Jessie, with Harry
Loomis to drive, sat in front, and Jess was shy and happy, for Loomis
had plainly lost his heart to his comrade's pretty sister. Marshall had
now been gone nine days and could soon be expected home, said everybody,
for with a big force going up there the Indians would scatter and "the
boys" would have no trouble coming back. And so this lovely summer
afternoon every one seemed bright and joyous at the fort, listening to
the band and wondering, some of the party at least, how much longer it
would be before they could hope to hear from the absent, when there
arose sudden sounds of suppressed commotion in the camp of "C" Troop. A
courier was coming like mad on the road from Frayne--a courier whose
panting horse reined up a minute, with heaving flanks, in the midst of
the thronging men, and all the troop turned white and still at the news
the rider briefly told:--three companies at Warrior Gap were massacred
by the Sioux, one hundred and seventy men in all, including Sergeant
Bruce and all "C" Troop's men but Conroy and Garret, who had cut their
way through with Lieutenant Dean and were safe inside the stockade,
though painfully w