AND BIVOUAC
panied for a few miles by the late George O'Brien, to overtake the command. Neither of us had been used to riding for some time, and, as the day was fairly warm, we did not over-exert ourselves in catching up with the column. There was a well-marked road to Lodge Pole creek, through a country greatly devoid of beauty, so that we had no difficulty in keeping the trail. Mr. O'Brien bade us adieu on a little rising ground, about five miles from the Fort, and then Mac and I urged our animals to a trot, as the afternoon was well advanced. A little before sundown we came in sight of the shallow valley of Lodge Pole creek, and saw tents pitched along the banks of that stream, while, hobbled or lariated, horses were grazing around. Several canvas-covered army wagons, and a number of soldiers engaged in attending to their horses, completed the picture. Captain Sutorius welcomed us warmly, and explained that he had no lieutenants — one being on sick leave and the other detailed for other duty. He introduced us to the two officers of the 2d Cavalry, Captain Wells and Lieutenant Sibley. The former was a veteran of the Civil War, covered with honorable scars, bluff, stern and heroic. Lieutenant Sibley, with whose career I was destined to be linked under circumstances which subsequently attracted the attention of the continent, and which will live long in the tales and traditions of our regular army, was a young West Pointer, who had distinguished himself under General Reynolds in the attack upon, and capture of, Crazy Horse's village on March 17th of that eventful year. He was about the middle height, well but slightly built, and with a handsome, expressive
OR THE CONQUEST OF THE SIOUX
face. It does not take very long to become thoroughly at home with soldiers, if they take a liking to you, and we were soon seated in Captain Sutorius' tent, partaking very industriously of plain military fare. The conversation turned chiefly on the campaign upon which we were enter ing. Captain Wells said that the Indians were in stronger force than most people imagined, and that General Crook, accustomed mostly to the southern Indians, hardly estimated at its real strength the powerful array of the savages. He joked, in rough soldier fashion, McMillan and myself on having had our hair cropped, as, he said, it would be a pity to cheat the Sioux out of our scalps. The bugle soon sounded, the horses were placed "on the line " — that is, tied by their halters to a strong rope stretched between wagons — curried and fed. The mules joined in their usual lugubrious evening chorus. 'We had a smoke, followed by a moderately strong "toddy," and, very soon, the sentinels having been posted, Sutorius, Mac and I lay down to rest on blankets and buffalo robes spread in the captain's commodious wall tent. I slept the sleep of the just, although I was occasionally conscious of McMillan's eternal cough and the captain's profound snore, and thus opened, for me, the Big Horn and Yellowstone campaign.
In the midst of a dream, in which Indians, scalping- knives, warwhoops and tomahawks figured prominently, I was aroused by the shrill blast of the cavalry trumpets sounding the reveille. I sprang up instantly, as did my companions, made a very hasty and incomplete toilet, and, having swallowed a cup of coffee, served in an army " tin,"
WAR-PATH AND BIVOUAC
was ready for the road. The little "outfit" moved like clockwork, and, by six o'clock, everything had " pulled out" of camp. The previous day's ride had rendered me quite stiff in the knee joints, as I had been riding with short stirrups. I soon learned that if a man wishes to avoid acute fatigue on a long march, it is better to lengthen the stirrup leathers. I accordingly adopted the military plan, and found some relief. Indians, by the way, generally ride with short stirrups on long journeys. I suppose they get used to it, but I never could.
The country through which we were passing was monotonously ugly. In most places the ground was covered with sage-brush and cacti, and the clouds of alkaline dust, raised by the hoofs of the troop horses, were at once blinding and suffocating. I was tormented by thirst, and soon exhausted all the water in my canteen. The captain, who was an old campaigner, advised me to place a small pebble in my mouth. I did so, and saliva was produced, which greatly relieved my suffering. I found afterward, on many a hard, hot, dusty march, when water was scarce, that this simple remedy against thirst is very effective. The less water a soldier drinks on the march, the better it will be for his health.
The command was halted several times in order that the horses might have a chance to graze, and also to enable the inexperienced among the soldiers to get some of the soreness out of their bones. I was devoutly grateful for every halt. The shadows from the west were lengthening as we rode into camp at a place called Bear Springs, where wood
OR THE CONQUEST OF THE SIOUX
and water abounded. The scenes and incidents of the preceding camp were duplicated here, but I learned that, on the morrow, we were to catch up with the column in advance, which was under the orders of Col. William Royall, of the 3d Cavalry, since colonel of the 4th Cavalry, and now retired.
We were in the saddle at daybreak, and marched with greater rapidity than usual. There were no halts of any great duration. About noon we encountered a stout young officer, attended by an orderly, riding at break-neck pace toward us. He halted, saluted the captain, and said, "Colonel Royall's compliments, and he requests that you march without halting until you join him. The other battalion is halted about a dozen miles further on. I am going to the rear with orders, and will rejoin to-morrow or the day after."
The captain introduced me to Lieut. Frederick Schwatka, whom I was to meet often afterward in that campaign, and whose name has since become familiar to all the reading world as the intrepid discoverer of the fate of Sir John Franklin, amid the eternal snows and unspeakable perils of the polar regions. Schwatka briefly but courteously acknowledged the captain's introduction, and, having drained a little "elixir of life" from his superior's canteen, set out like a whirlwind to fulfill his mission.
"Close up there! Trot!" shouted Captain Sutorius, who was in advance. "Trot!" repeated Captain Wells, in stentorian tones; and away we went, up hill and down dale, leaving the wagon tram to the care of its ordinary escort.
WAR-PATH AND BIVOUAC
After going at a trot for what seemed to me, galled and somewhat jaded as I was, an interminable time, we finally reached an elevation in the road, from which we beheld, although at a considerable distance, what seemed to be a force of cavalry, apparently going into camp. We continued advancing, but at a slower pace, and, within an hour, came upon the rearmost wagons of Royall's train, guarded by a troop of horse. We soon reached the main body, and I had then the pleasure of meeting Colonel Royall, a tall, handsome Virginian, of about fifty, with a full gray mustache, dark eyebrows, overhanging a pair of bright blue eyes, and a high forehead, on the apex of which, through the cropped hair, as he raised his cap in salute, appeared one of several scars inflicted by a rebel sabre in front of Richmond during the Civil War. Among the other officers to whom I was introduced, I remember Col. Anson Mills, then in his prime; Lieutenant Lemley, Captain Andrews, Lieutenant Foster, Lieut. Joseph Lawson and Lieut. Charles Morton, all of the 3d Cavalry; and Captain Rawolle, Lieutenant Huntington and others of the 2d Cavalry. As it was still early in the day, and, as our halting place was not desirable for the horses, Colonel Royall, after our wagon train had closed up, changed his mind about going into camp, and the march was continued to a place called Hunton's Ranch, in the Chugwater valley, where, having ridden over thirty miles since morning, I was rendered exceedingly happy by the order to halt and pitch our tents. These latter did not come up for some time, and, being as hungry as a bear, I was glad to satisfy my craving with raw army bacon, hard
OR THE CONQUEST OF THE SIOUX
tack and a tin full of abominably bad water. Then I lay down on my horse-blanket, under a tree, and fell fast asleep.
Supper was being served in Captain Sutorius' tent before I thought of waking up, and it took a good, honest poke in the ribs from the hardy captain to recall me from the land of dreams. In spite of my long nap, I slept soundly throughout
