Chapter 39 third quarter
Craig doesn't need the sun for guidance.In the cool blue sky, he could see distant objects gleaming in the morning sun.He was heading towards the Absalokah Moor where he had hunted with old Donaldson as a boy.It was a wild place, with only a barren forest and a rocky plateau that few people could pursue, and from there, it was possible to go up to the Beartooth Mountains.
Even at such a distance, he can still see several snow peaks on the mountain - Leishan, Shengshan, Yaoshan and Xiongyashan.There, a man with a good rifle can hold off an entire army.He stopped for a while to let the sweaty mount drink a few sips of water, and then continued towards the mountains that seemed to connect the earth with the sky.
Twenty miles behind him, six Indian warriors carefully inspected the horseshoe marks left on the ground, and galloped the horses, which could save the pony's strength and run for a long time.
Thirty miles to the north, a cavalry patrol was heading south looking for signs.They were found west of West Pryor Peak around noon.A few Crow scouts suddenly reined in the horses and circled their horses. They stared at the sun-dried land and pointed down at the traces of iron hooves and the unshod paws that followed closely behind. trail of a pony.
"Well," said the lieutenant softly, "we've got competitors. Never mind."
Although the horses were a little tired, he gave the order to continue westward.Half an hour later, he climbed to a high slope on the plain, took out the telescope to observe the movement on the horizon ahead.The fugitive didn't see it, but he saw a clump of flying dust, and below it were six tiny figures riding on a white and white pony, running quickly towards the mountains.
The Cheyenne ponies were tired too, but they knew the mounts of the fugitives ahead must be too.The warriors watered and rested their horses for half an hour by the Bridge Creek below the village of Bridge.A warrior put his ear to the ground and heard a sound of hoofbeats behind him, so they mounted and continued on.After a mile their leader turned aside, took them to hide behind a hillock, and climbed to the top to look out.
He saw the cavalry three miles away.The Cheyenne people didn't know what paper was on the hillside, or what a reward was on the exiled white man.They believed that it must be because they escaped from the reserve that the officers and soldiers of the blue army came after them.So they watched and waited.
The cavalry patrol stopped at a fork in the dirt road, and Crow scouts dismounted to survey the ground.The Cheyenne saw that the Crow had been pointing west, and the cavalry patrol continued in that direction.
The Cheyenne men kept pace with them, keeping parallel, following the Blues as the Coyotes had followed Custer up the Rosebud River.But at three or four o'clock in the afternoon, the Crow found them.
"Cheyenne," said the Crow scout.The lieutenant shrugged.
"Never mind, let them hunt. We have our game."
The two pursuers continued to march until night fell.The Crows followed the trails, and the Cheyenne followed the patrols.As the sun went down behind the mountain, both groups realized they had to rest their horses.If they insisted on going on, the mounts under them would be exhausted.Plus, the ground is getting rougher and harder to track.They did not bring lanterns, and it was impossible to travel without them in the dark.
Ten miles ahead of them, Craig knew it too.Rothbard was a big, strong mare, but she had covered fifty miles of rough terrain with her gear and her own.Qingfeng is not a skilled rider, and she is exhausted.They camped beside Bear Creek, not far east of Red Lodge, but dared not light a fire for fear of being discovered.
After nightfall, the temperature drops sharply.They huddled up in the buffalo leather nightgown, and the breeze girl fell asleep soon.Craig didn't sleep, he could sleep later.He slipped out of his nightgown, wrapped himself in a red hand-woven blanket, and gazed at the girl he adored.
No one came, but he was up before dawn.They pulled out the dried antelope meat and the cornbread she had brought from her teepee, swallowed it hastily with the stream, and left.When the path was outlined in the first light of dawn, the pursuers arose.They were nine miles behind, but closing.Craig knew the Cheyenne would come; what he had done was unforgivable.But he didn't know anything about the cavalry pursuit party.
The ground is rougher, and the forward speed is slower.He knew his pursuers would come after him, and he needed to delay them by setting up a false trail.After riding for two hours on horseback, the fugitives came to the confluence of two streams.Rock Creek tumbling down the hill to the left was Rock Creek, a road that, in his judgment, had no access to the moor.Directly ahead is Xixi, the water is shallower and there are fewer stones.He dismounted, tied the pony's bridle to his own horse's saddle, and led Rothbard's bridle ahead.
He led the little team of horses off the bank at an angle toward Rock Creek, into the water, then turned back and took another waterway.His feet were numb from the freezing water, but he kept walking for two miles on the gravel and pebbles at the bottom of the stream.Then he turned to the mountains to the left, leading his mount out of the stream and into a dense forest.
Here, the land under the woods became steeper, the sun was blocked, and the woods were gloomy.Breeze wrapped his body in a blanket and rode on the pony's bare back at a walking pace.
Three miles to the rear, the cavalry patrol reached the water's edge and stopped.The Crows seemed to be pointing in the direction of Rock Creek.After conferring with the sergeant, the lieutenant ordered the patrol to follow the false trail.When they had vanished, the Cheyenne came to the confluence of the two streams.They didn't need to step into the stream to cover their footprints, but they chose the right stream, rode to the bank quickly, looked at the traces of horses coming out of the water in the distance, and headed towards the direction of the mountain.
After two miles, they found a mark in a soft soil on the opposite side of the stream.They strode across the stream on horseback and entered the forest.
At noon, Craig arrived at the place he remembered from hunting many years ago.It was a large rocky plateau called the Silverpath Plateau, leading directly into the mountains.What he and Qingfeng didn't know was that they had actually come to a mountain at an altitude of eleven thousand feet.
Standing on the edge of the rock and looking down, he could see the stream he had walked towards and left.To his right, there is a figure below.That's where the two streams fork.He didn't have binoculars, but visibility was excellent because the air was so thin.Those half a mile away were not Cheyenne men, but ten soldiers, and four Crow scouts.Their patrol turned back from Rock Creek below after realizing they had gone the wrong way.Only then did Ben Craig realize that because he had let the girl go, the troops were still after him.
He took the Sharps rifle out of its holster, loaded a cartridge, found a rock to lie down on, and aimed it down the valley below.
"Get rid of the horse," old Donaldson always warned. "In a place like this, if a man loses his mount, he has no choice but to turn back."
He aimed at the forehead of the officer's mount.There was a pop when the bullet fired, and the sound echoed through the mountains like thunder for a long time.The bullet grazed the horse's head and hit the upper right shoulder.The horse fell slumped to the ground, and the officer also fell.The lieutenant sprained an ankle as he fell.
The cavalry fled in all directions into the woods, but the sergeant did not flee. He rushed to the fallen horse behind him and tried to help the lieutenant.The horse was mortally wounded, but not dead.The sergeant put an end to its suffering with a pistol, and dragged the lieutenant into the woods.The gunfire did not ring out again.
The Cheyenne dismounted in the woods on the hillsides and settled in the pine-needle fields.Four of them carried Springfield rifles captured from the Seventh Regiment, but like the Plains Indians they were poor marksmen.They knew that the young white man was proficient with a Sharps rifle and could shoot at various ranges.They began to crawl upwards, which slowed them down.One of the six was in the rear, leading the six ponies.
Craig cut a blanket into four pieces to cover each of Rothbard's hooves.The cloth between the iron palm and the rock frayed quickly, but would hide hoofprints five hundred yards away.Then he rode his horse southwest, across the plateau toward the peaks.
Five miles past the Silver Trail, the surroundings became bare.Two miles later, the border guard turned his head to look behind him, and there were some tiny figures across the ridge to the stone beam.He rode on.They couldn't shoot him, and they couldn't catch him.After a while there were more figures; the cavalry had led their horses through the woods to the rock as well, and the Cheyenne was a mile to the east of them.At this point, Craig came to a gap.He had never been to such a high mountain before, and he didn't know that there was a chasm here.
In this gap there is a steep and narrow mountain stream called Lake Fork Creek, with pine trees growing on both sides, and the water is icy cold.Craig walked along the stream, looking for a shallow bank to cross.He found a suitable place in the shadow of Thunder Mountain, but it took him half an hour.
He led the horses down into the deep valley, and up the opposite slope to the other and last rock, which was the plateau of Hellorin.As he came out of the ravine, a bullet whizzed past his head.Across the valley, a horseman spotted movement in the pine forest.His delay not only allowed the pursuit party to catch up, but also exposed his path across the mountain stream.
There were still three miles of flat land ahead of him, and then the towering rock face of Mt. Rear.No one in the world can catch him on the high mountain with many peaks and caves.Two men and two animals gasped for breath in the thin air.He's still going strong.Night would soon fall, and he would disappear into the valleys and valleys between Defender, Sacred, and Beartooth.No one can track it down here.After crossing the holy mountain is the watershed, and you can go downhill all the way to Wyoming.They will stay away from enemy lands, marry, and live in the wilderness forever.When the sky faded, Ben Craig and Breeze threw off the pursuit team behind them and headed towards the slope of Defender Mountain.
They climbed up Iwahara at dusk, to the snow line on the top of the mountain that is covered with ice and snow all the year round.There they found a flat tor, fifty feet long and twenty feet wide, with a deep cave behind it.The last pine trees on the hill shaded the entrance to the cave.
As night fell, Craig tied up the horses and let them eat pine leaves under the trees.It was freezing cold on the mountain, but they had buffalo robes.
The scout unsaddled and carried the blanket and went into the cave. He loaded and placed his rifle by his side, and spread out the buffalo hides near the entrance.Craig and Breeze lay down, and he pulled the other half over them.Their bodies gradually warmed up in this big cocoon.The girl Qingfeng threw herself into his arms.
"Ben," she whispered to him, "make me your woman. Now."
He began to peel the buckskin tunic off her eager body.
"You're doing it wrong."
There is nothing but silence on such a high mountain.Although the voice was old and weak, the words spoken in Cheyenne language were clear.
Craig had taken off his leather shirt and was naked in the freezing air.He raised his rifle and was soon at the entrance of the cave.
He wondered why he hadn't seen the man before.He sat cross-legged on the edge of a flat rock under a pine tree, his iron-gray hair fell to his bare waist, and his face was wrinkled like a toasted walnut.He is quite old, but very pious. He is a tribal shaman and a predictor of the future. He came to the barren and inhabited place to fast, meditate, and seek the guidance of the gods.
"Are you talking, Master?" The scout used a title for an older wise man.He couldn't guess where the old man came from.How did the old man climb such a high mountain?He had no way of knowing.It is not inconceivable how he withstood the severe cold without clothing.All Craig knew was that there were some Pilgrims who could withstand every known harsh environment.
He felt the breeze come to the mouth of the cave and stand beside him.
"In the eyes of saints and gods everywhere, this is wrong," said the old man.
The moon had not yet risen, but the stars were bright in the cool air.The broad rock was bathed in a faint light.Craig could see the starlight reflected in the old man's eyes under the tree, those old eyes staring at him.
"Why not, Master?"
"She has been betrothed to another man. Her husband has fought bravely against white men. He has won many honors and should not be treated like this."
"But she's my woman now."
"She will be your woman, mountain people, but not now. So says the omnipresent gods. She should go back to her people and her lord. If she goes, then one day you will Reunited, and she will be your woman, and you will be her man forever. Said the omnipresent god."
He picked up a cane on the ground beside him and stood up with support.His naked skin was dark and old, and he looked sickly in the cold wind. He wore only a loincloth and moccasins all over his body.He turned and walked slowly down the hill through the pine forest.Slowly, his figure disappeared from Craig's field of vision.
Breeze looked up at Craig.Tears streamed down her cheeks but didn't fall, the drops froze before trickling down to her chin.
"I must return to my people. It is my destiny."
They didn't argue.There's no use arguing either.While she put on a loincloth and wrapped the blanket around her body, he prepared her pony.He held her one last time, lifted her onto the horse, and handed her the reins.She led the pony silently to the start of the downhill dirt road.
"The wind that speaks softly," he called.She turned and gazed at him for a long time under the starlight.
"One day, we will be reunited. The gods say so. When the warblers fly and the grass grows, and the rivers melt into ice, I will wait for you."
"I'll wait for you too, Ben Craig."
she left.Craig looked up at the stars until the chill deepened.He led Rothbard into the depths of the cave, prepared a large handful of pine leaves for him, then spread out the buffalo hide in the dark, lay down on it, pulled it up while wrapping it around his body, and fell asleep.
The moon rose.The Indian warriors saw the light wind coming towards them across the rocky plain.She saw two campfires burning on the edge of the canyon below, and heard a low hawk call from the one to the left.So she walked there.
They didn't say anything, and her father Gao Mi should say anything.But they still had one task left: the white men who sacked their village must die.They are waiting for dawn.
At one o'clock in the middle of the night, large clouds floated over Xiongya Mountain, and the temperature began to drop.The people around the two campfires were all trembling.They wrapped themselves in blankets, but that didn't help.Soon, they all woke up from the cold and added more firewood to the fire, but the temperature was still dropping.
Both the Cheyenne and the white man had wintered in the harsh Dakotas, and they all knew what winter was like, but it was only the end of October, and the temperature was still dropping before winter came.At two o'clock in the morning, it was snowing heavily all over the mountains and plains.In the cavalry camp, Crow scouts rose.
"We're going," they said to the officer.The lieutenant's ankle still hurts, but he knows that if he can catch the prisoner and get a reward, his career in the army will be greatly improved.
"It's cold, but it will be dawn soon," the lieutenant told them.
"It's no normal cold," they said, "it's the cold of sleep. No robes can keep it out. The white man you're looking for is dead. If he isn't, he'll be dead before the sun rises." .”
"Let's go, then," said the officer.There was no need to track anymore, his quarry was on the mountain, the mountain he had seen in the moonlight before the snow.
The Crow mounted his horse and departed.They turned back across the Silverpath and down the hill to the valley.As they were leaving, one of them uttered a piercing cry like a night bird.
The Cheyenne people heard the cry, and they looked at each other.It was a cry of warning.They threw the snow cubes on the campfire, then mounted their horses and took the girl away.The temperature is still dropping.
Around four o'clock in the morning, the avalanche broke out.Snow blocks avalanched from the mountains onto the plateau.The snow sizzled like a wall as it slid toward Lake Fork Creek, sweeping everything it carried along into the ravine.The remaining cavalry patrols were immobilized; the cold pinned them to where they lay or stood.The valley was filled with snow, and only the tops of the pine trees were visible.
In the morning, the clouds opened and the sun rose.The mountains were all white.Hundreds of caves are filled with mountain and forest animals who know winter is coming.They should sleep through spring.
In that cave high up in the hills, the young frontier soldier, wrapped in a buffalo-skin nightgown, was sleeping too.
When he woke up, he couldn't remember where he was.This happens from time to time.Is it in the village of High Moose?But he did not hear the women preparing breakfast.He opened his eyes and peered through the folds of the buffalo hide.He saw the rough walls of the cave, and suddenly it all came back to him.He sat up, trying to shake the last trace of sleep from his mind.
He could see outside a large white stone slab covered with snow and ice, glistening in the sun.He stepped out shirtless to breathe the morning air.It feels good.
Rothbard was still tethered, but he was out of the cave, nibbling some young pine shoots on the edge of the slab.With the morning sun on his right, he faced north, gazing out over the distant plains of Montana.
He walked to the front of the stone slab and sat down, looking down at the Hellorin Plateau in front of him.There was no smoke coming from Lake Fork Creek, and it seemed the pursuit party had gone.
He went back to the cave, put on the buckskin, put on the belt, took the hunting knife, returned to Rothbard, and untied the bridle that held him.The mare neighed softly and rubbed her velvet muzzle against his shoulder.At this time, he noticed some strange phenomena.
Those green soft shoots that Rothbard gnawed on were plants that only grow in spring.He looked around.Facing the sun, the last few pine trees that have survived the severe cold have sprouted light green shoots.In shock he realized that, like the animals of the wasteland, he had been hibernating throughout the harsh winter.
He had heard such instances.Old Donaldson once mentioned a trapper who spent the winter in a bear den and didn't die.He sleeps like a young animal beside him until spring comes.
He found the last patty in his saddlebag.The meat was too hard to chew, but he forced himself to swallow it.In order to moisten his throat, he took a clump of snow with both hands, rubbed it with his palms and drank the snow water.He knew that it was best not to eat snow directly.
There was still the warm fox fur hat in the saddlebag, which he took out and put on his head.After saddling Rothbard, he checked the Sharps rifle and twenty rounds remaining, then holstered the gun and prepared to leave.The buffalo-skin nightgown was heavy, but he rolled it up and tied it behind the saddle.Everything in the cave was packed.He grabbed Rothbard's bridle and led it down the dirt road down the plateau.
He had not yet made up his mind what to do, but he knew that there was plenty of game in the forest below.Just by hunting with traps, a person can live quite well in the mountains.
He walked slowly across the first plateau, waiting for the movement ahead, or even a tentative bullet flying from the edge of the valley.But neither.When he reached the chasm, there was no sign of the pursuit party still hunting him.He would not know that the Crows had reported that all the Blues had died in that strange snowstorm, and that their prey had certainly died as well.
He found the dirt road down the hill to Lake Fork Creek, and waded across it to the opposite bank.The sun had risen almost a pole high when he walked across the Silverpath Plateau.He felt a touch of warmth.
He walked downhill through the pine forest until broadleaf trees appeared around him.There he stopped and pitched his first camp.It was noon.Using some twigs and a length of twine from a saddlebag, he made a rabbit trap.An hour later, a wild rabbit ran out of the cave without being suspicious and was caught.He killed it, skinned it, built a fire with a box of tinder and flint, and savored the game roast.
He lived in a camp by the forest for a week, and his strength gradually recovered.There was plenty of meat in the woods, and he could catch salmon in the streams, and drink from the streams when he was thirsty.
By the end of that week he decided to get out of the mountains to the plains, night and day, back to Pryor Mountain.He could build a log cabin there and build a home.Then he could go and find out where the Cheyenne had gone, and wait for Breeze to be free.Qingfeng would be his woman, he was sure of it, because that's what the gods said.
On the eighth night, he saddled up and left the forest, and headed north with the stars and the moon.It was a full moon night, and the earth was bathed in a pale white light.He walked all night and camped by a dry valley by day, where no one could see him.He didn't light the fire again, and ate his hunger with bacon roasted in the woods.
On the second night he turned east toward the lying Pryor Mountains, and soon crossed a long strip of hard black rock that could not be seen in either end.He crossed another one before dawn, but not since.Then he went into the wilderness.The ground is rough and difficult to ride, but good for hiding.
Once, he saw some cattle and sheep standing in the moonlight, and wondered at the stupid behavior of those pioneers who left their livestock alone.If they are discovered by the Crows, they will be lucky.
On the morning of the fourth day of riding, he saw a castle.He had once camped on a knoll, and at sunrise he had seen the castle at the foot of West Pryor Hill.He watched for an hour to see if it was inhabited, if there were bugles on the wind, if there was smoke rising from the army kitchens.But there is nothing there.After three poles in the sun, he hid in the shadow of a bush and went to sleep.
While eating dinner, he thought about what he was going to do.It is still a wilderness, and walking alone is often dangerous.That castle didn't exist last fall, apparently newly built.So the army has expanded its land control over the Crow tribe.A year ago, the closest castle was Fort Smith on the Bighorn River to the east, and Fort Ellis was the closest to the Bozeman Trail to the northwest.He couldn't go to Ellisburg, where they would recognize him.
But if it wasn't the Seventh Regiment in that new castle, and it wasn't an army commanded by General Gibbon, no one would have recognized him, and, if he had given a false name... he was Rothbard. Saddle, decided to spy on the new castle quietly at night.
He arrived at the castle by moonlight.There was no army flag flying on the flagpole, no light inside, and no human voice.Because of being quiet, he also became more courageous.He rode to the main door, and there were two words above the door opening.He recognized the first word as FORT because he had seen the word before and knew its shape.He could not recall the second word, the first letter was composed of two vertical bars and a horizontal bar in the middle.Outside the two tall city gates on the left and right, an iron chain and a padlock tightly locked the gate.
He rode on Rothbard's back and walked around the twelve-foot fence of the wall.Why did the troops build a castle and leave it behind?Has it been attacked and left empty?Are all the people inside dead?But if that's the case, why hang a big iron lock?In the middle of the night, he stood on Rothbard's back and stretched his hands to the parapet.After climbing over the top of the wall, there was an inner walkway seven feet above the ground and five feet lower than the parapet.He jumped onto the walkway and looked down.
He made out some officers' and soldiers' encampments, stables and kitchens, and armories, buckets, storehouses and smithies.Everything is there, but it is an abandoned empty city.
He walked softly down the inner stairs, rifle in hand and began to investigate.Yes, this is a new castle.This can be seen from the fresh saw marks on the tenons and girders.The resident commander's office is locked, but the rest is open.There were two bungalows there, one for soldiers and the other for travelers.It was odd that he hadn't been able to find the latrine.There was a chapel against the back wall away from the main door, and there was a door in the main wall next to it, and a wooden bar fastened the door from the inside.
He removed the poles and went outside along the parapet, leading Rothbard in.Then he re-sealed the door with wooden bars.He knew that he was absolutely incapable of defending the castle alone.If a group of Indians came to attack, the warriors could climb over the wall as easily as he could.But until he found out where the High Elk tribe had gone, the castle could be used as a temporary base.
During the day he inspected the stables.There was enough feed for twenty horses in the inner stalls, and there was fresh drinking water in the trough outside.He unsaddled Rothbard's saddle and ran a stiff brush up and down while he ate his oats.
He found a can of grease in the blacksmith's shop and polished the rifle until the metal and wooden handle were shiny again.The storage warehouse contains traps and blankets used by hunters.He took the blanket to the cabin for the travelers and spread it on the bed in the corner.The only thing he lacks now is food.However, he eventually found a jar of candy in the pantry and ate it for dinner.
The first week seems to go by quickly.Every morning, he rode out to hunt animals. In the afternoon, he dried the skins of the animals he caught for future sale.He had the fresh meat he needed, and he knew that there were several plants in the moor whose leaves were good for soup.
He found a bar of soap in a storeroom and took a bath in a nearby stream.Although the stream there is very cold, the spirit is refreshed after washing.There are fresh green grasses that Rothbud can eat by the stream.He found bowls and tin dishes in the kitchen.He brought dry firewood for the winter, and was busy building a fire, boiling water, and shaving.Among the items he brought from Donaldson's cabin was an old sharp razor, which he kept in a long, thin steel case.With hot water and soap, he was amazed at how easy it was to shave.He once had to shave in cold water without soap when he was out in the moor or marching with troops.
Spring has turned to early summer, but still no one comes.He began to wonder where he should go to ask where the Cheyenne had gone and where they had taken Breeze.He can only go to her after inquiring clearly.But he dared not ride to Fort Smith to the east and Fort Ellis to the northwest, where he would be sure to be recognized.If he learned that the troops were still going to hang him, he would use the name Donaldson, and hoped to get away with it.
After he had lived in the castle for a month, a visitor came, but he had just gone hunting in the mountains.There were eight guests in total, and they came in two long iron pipe carts.There are a few black wheels rolling under the cart, but they are not drawn by horses. The middle of the wheels is silver.
Among the eight people, one of them is the guide, and the remaining seven are his guests.That guide was Professor John Ingalls, chair of the Department of Western History at the University of Montana in Bozeman.His most important guest was a junior state senator who had come all the way from Washington.There are also three members of Congress from Helena, the capital of Montana, and three officials from the Department of Education.Professor Ingalls unlocked the city gate and let the group in.They looked around with curiosity and interest.
"Senator and gentlemen, welcome to Heritage Fort." After the professor finished speaking, he showed a cheerful smile.He is a humorous man who loves what he does for a living.He studied the finer details of the Old West and Western history, and his work was his life's passion.He has amazing knowledge of old Montana, the warfare on the plains, and the Native Americans who fought and hunted here.Heritage Fort was a dream he had tended for ten years and boasted countless times in committee meetings.This day is the most critical day in ten years.
"The castle and trading post here are faithfully reproduced according to their original size, and they have faithfully restored the place where the immortal General Custer was. I personally supervised the construction of every detail, and I can assure you."
When leading the team to visit the surrounding wooden houses and facilities, he explained that this project was approved after he applied to the Montana Historical Society and the Cultural Foundation. The project funds came from the idle coal tax within the foundation. It was implemented after a few persuasions.
He told them that the design had been done to perfection, using wood from local forests, and that, because he was striving for perfection, even the nails were the old ones, and iron screws were forbidden.
His enthusiasm infected the guests.He told them: "It is my hope that Fort Heritage will provide a profound educational base not only for Montana, but for the children and young people of the surrounding states. Tourists from Wyoming and South Dakota."
"At the edge of the Crow reservation we have twenty acres of paddocks outside the walls for the horses, and we'll have hay ready in time to feed them. The scythe cuts the grass. Visitors will see how the frontier people lived a hundred years ago. I assure you, this is unique in all of America."
"Yes, I like it," said the Senator. "So how are you going to staff it?"
"It's a crowning honour, Senator. It's not a museum, but a fully functioning, functioning 1870s castle. The fund can employ sixty people, and it's on days that happen to cover national holidays and schools." Worked all summer during the holidays. The staff is mostly young people drawn from theater schools in major cities in Montana. The students are enthusiastic and will complete a valuable assignment and will stay here deep impression."
"We have another sixty volunteers. I myself am Major Ingalls of the 2nd Cavalry Regiment, commanding the stronghold. I have a sergeant, a corporal, and eight cavalrymen, students who can ride horses. The horses are on loan from some friendly farmers."
"Additionally, there will be some young women who will be cooks and laundresses. The costumes will be exactly the same as at that time. Other drama students will play trappers from the mountains, scouts from the plains, and westward crossings. Migrants from the Rockies."
"A real blacksmith has agreed to join us so visitors can see the shoeing. I'll preside over the service in the chapel and we'll sing the hymns of the day. Of course the girls will have their own dorms and There will be a group custodian, and that is our faculty assistant, Ms. Charlotte Bevin. There will be one dormitory for the fighters and another for the civilians. I assure you that every detail has been considered."
“There are definitely some amenities that modern young people can’t live without. How is the arrangement about personal hygiene, fresh fruit and vegetables?” said a councilor from Helena.
"Exactly," the professor smiled. "There are actually three technical treatments. There can be no live firearms in the barracks. All pistols and rifles are replicas, except for a few weapons that can be fired under supervision."
"As for sanitation, do you see the armory over there? There are racks for Springfield rifles, but behind a false wall there is a real bathroom with running water, toilet, tap, basin and Showers with hot water. Where's the big bucket for rainwater? We've laid underground water pipes. There's a secret entrance in the back of the big wooden bucket. There's a gas fridge in it for steaks, pork, vegetables and fruit, using bottled gas .That's all. No electricity, only candles and oil lamps for lighting."
They went to the door of the guest quarters.An official peers in.
“好像已经有人抢先住进来了。”他说道。他们全都盯着角落里那张铺着毯子的行军床看，之后还发现了其他痕迹：马厩里的马粪，火堆里的炭。参议员哈哈大笑起来。
“你的一些游客似乎等不及了，”他说，“也许已经有一位真正的边防战士住在这里了呢。”
听到这话，他们全都笑了起来。
“说真的，教授，这是一件了不起的工作。我保证，我们都赞同。向你表示祝贺。这里是我们蒙大拿州的一张名片。”
他们随即离开了。教授转身锁上正门，心里还在纳闷，不知道那张床铺和马粪是怎么回事。三辆车沿着土路驶向一条狭长的黑石带，即三一零号高速公路，然后朝北方的比灵斯和机场疾驰而去。
两个小时以后，本·克雷格从设陷阱的地方回来了。外人进来过的第一条线索，是小教堂旁边主墙上的那扇门，被人从里面插上了木杠。他记得他曾经把门关上并插入木楔。不管插木杠的人是谁，要么已从大门离去，要么仍滞留在城堡里。
他检查了那两扇高大的主门，但它们仍上着锁。外面的一些奇怪痕迹是他所不明白的，那似乎是马车轮子留下的，但更宽，还有锯齿形的花纹。
他提着步枪登上墙头，但经过一个小时的检查后，他满意了。There was no one there.他卸下门上的木杠，把罗斯巴德牵进来，看到它在马厩里安顿下来并开始吃草后，又去检查阅兵场上的印迹。那里有鞋印和靴印，还有更多的锯齿形痕迹，但没有蹄印。而且大门外也没有鞋印。这倒是很奇怪。
两星期后，城堡居民工作团组抵达。克雷格又一次外出，去普赖尔山脚下设陷阱了。
人员浩浩荡荡。一共来了三辆大客车、四辆轿车和装有二十匹马的银色拖车。客货全都卸下后，汽车开走了。
这些工作人员在比灵斯就已经换上各自扮演的角色服装。每个人都有一只装有替换衣物和个人用品的背包。教授已经检查了每一件物品，并坚持禁止他们带来任何“现代化”的东西。任何电器或电动用具都是不允许的。有些人实在难以与他们的晶体管收音机分手，但合同的规定必须遵守，甚至连二十世纪出版的图书也不允许。英格尔斯教授坚持认为，无论从真实性的角度还是从心理学的角度来说，彻底变换为整整一个世纪前的模样至关重要。
“过上一段时间，你们就会相信自己就是当下所扮演的角色，是生活在蒙大拿历史上最关键时期的边民。”
很快，戏剧系的学生们开始欣喜地探索起他们周围的环境来。他们不仅想在暑假里志愿从事一份远比餐馆打工要好的工作，还希望这份具有教育意义的工作，能对他们今后的职业生涯有所帮助。
骑兵们把马匹牵到马厩，在营房里安顿了下来。有人把和的美艳照片钉在墙上，但立即被没收了。城堡里洋溢着欢快的气氛，人们变得越来越兴奋。
来自遥远东部的平民工人、小商贩、钉马蹄铁的铁匠、厨工、侦察兵和移民占据了第二座大营房。贝文小姐把八位姑娘安排到女生宿舍。两辆由白帆布作篷的四轮大马车，由雄壮高大的马匹拖曳抵达后，停在了城堡大门附近。这对于未来的参观者来说，将构成一个重要的景点。
本·克雷格在半英里之外勒住罗斯巴德的缰绳，警觉地审视着城堡，这时已是下午三四点钟光景。The door is wide open.隔着这段距离，他能够看到停在大门内的两辆有篷马车，以及在阅兵场上穿行的人群。星条旗在大门上方的旗杆上迎风飘扬。他看见两名蓝军士兵。几个星期以来，他一直想找人打听夏延人的去向，但现在他有点不确定了。
经过半个小时的思量，他骑马前行。他在两名士兵正要关门的当口穿过门洞进入城堡。他们好奇地看看他，但没有说话。他跳下马，想把罗斯巴德牵向马厩，却在半路上被拦住了。
夏洛特·贝文小姐是个好心人。她善良认真，充满了美国人式的热情。她长得金发碧眼，鼻子上有几颗雀斑，脸上经常挂着笑容。看到本·克雷格，她绽出灿烂的微笑。
“嗨，你好。”
天太热，已经戴不住帽子了，所以这位侦察兵无法脱帽致意，只能点点头。
“女士。”
“你是我们团里的成员吗？”
作为教授的助手和研究生，她从一开始就参与了这个项目，还参加过无数次面试以确定最终人选。但她从来没有见过这个年轻人。
“我想是吧，女士。”陌生人说。
“你的意思是，你想加入？”
"I think so."
“哦，这有点不合常规，你不是我们的工作人员。但现在天色晚了，不适合在外面草原上过夜。我们可以让你在这儿过夜。你把马牵到马厩去，我去和英格尔斯少校谈谈。请在半小时后去司令官办公室好吗？”
Notes:
Notes: