Brant frowned at the innocent words, reading
them over again with gloomy eyes and an exclamation of unmitigated
disgust, yet there was no escaping their plain meaning. Trouble was
undoubtedly brewing among the Sioux, trouble in which the Cheyennes,
and probably others also, were becoming involved. Every soldier
patrolling that long northern border recognized the approach of some
dire development, some early coup of savagery. Restlessness pervaded
the Indian country; recalcitrant bands roamed the "badlands";
dissatisfied young warriors disappeared from the reservation limits and
failed to return; while friendly scouts told strange tales of weird
dances amid the brown Dakota hills. Uneasiness, the spirit of
suspected peril, hung like a pall over the plains; yet none could
safely predict where the blow might first descend.
Brant was not blind to all this, nor to the necessity of having in
readiness selected bodies of seasoned troops, yet it was not in soldier
nature to refrain from grumbling when the earliest detail chanced to
fall to him. But orders were orders in that country, and although he
crushed the innocent paper passionately beneath his heel, five hours
later he was in saddle, riding steadily westward, his depleted troop of
horsemen clattering at his heels.
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