"Those Indians are beginning
to shoot wildly, and some one is going to get accidentally hit. I wonder
that the soldiers don't regulate it better."
"They are afraid of getting the Indians angry," explained Miss Croffut.
"The war department allows them to do as they please at this function,
to keep them quiet at other times."
But most of the poor dumb brutes had succumbed to this slow method of
butchering, and the squaws, with horrible cries, rushed into the field,
every one to the steer which her lord and master had killed, and the
hideous rites of skinning and cutting up the animals was begun by the
women, who were even more bloodthirsty than the men.
"Come, we don't want to see this," said Ted, and led the way from the
field.
"It is time for dinner," said Miss Croffut. "Then we must get ready for
the trail. We will get a wagon from the storekeeper--a regular camp
wagon with beds and a tent. Papa will arrange it all, and he will detail
an orderly to drive it for us, and care for our things."
"That will be fine for you and aunt, but for me--the saddle and the camp
fire," said Stella.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A SLAP ON THE FACE.
As they were riding toward the post they were joined by Ben, Bud, Kit,
Clay, and Carl, who came riding up like Cossacks, and were presented to
Miss Croffut, on either side of whom they fell into place, and began to
talk animatedly and enthusiastically about the coming trail.
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