Hogan got
through."
Just then, Crash! Bang! and a clear voice rang out, "Right front into
line, gallop, March! _Charge!_" and those sturdy chaps of the 11th
Cavalry true to their regimental hatred for the Indians, charged down
among the red men scattering them like so much chaff. Then to the
northwards was heard another ringing cheer, and the two long-delayed
regiments came down among the Indians like a thunderbolt of vengeance.
Truly, "It never rains but it pours." The 29th, all that was left of it,
was saved, and when Colonel Foster leaned over the prostrate form of his
old friend and comrade, Colonel Clarke feebly asked, "Where is that
brave little chap, Hogan?"
"Hogan? Who is Hogan?" asked Foster.
"Why, my God, man, Hogan was the man that got beyond the Indian lines to
make the ride to inform you of our plight. Didn't you see him?"
"No, I didn't see him," and then Colonel Foster related how the
information had reached him.
A rescuing party was started out and in the pale moonlight they came
upon the body of poor Denny lying stark and stiff under the telegraph
line, his left hand grasping the instrument and the key open.
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