READY TO ATTACK
There was a ford but it was rocky and dangerous, and so narrow that
horse after horse slipped aside into the swift current, bearing his
rider with him into the icy water. Comrades hauled the unfortunate
ones forth, and fires were hastily built under shelter of the south
bank. Those who reached the landing dry shared their extra clothing
with those water-soaked, and hot coffee was hastily served to all
alike. Eager as the men were to push forward, more than an hour was
lost in passage, for the stream was bank full, the current rapid and
littered with quantities of floating ice. Some of these ice cakes
startled the struggling horses and inflicted painful wounds, and it was
only by a free use of ropes and lariats that the entire command finally
succeeded in attaining the southern shore. Shivering with the cold,
the troopers again found their saddles and pressed grimly forward on
the trail. Hamlin, with five others, led the way along a beaten track
which had been trampled by the passing herd of Indian ponies and
plainly marked by the trailing poles of numerous wicky-ups.
This led straight away into the south across the valley of the
Canadian, on to the plains beyond. The snow here was a foot deep on a
level, and in places the going was heavy. As they advanced, the
weather moderated somewhat, and the upper crust became soft. Before
them stretched the dreary level of the plains, broken by occasional
ravines and little isolated patches of trees. No sign of Indians was
seen other than the-deserted trail, and confident that the band had had
fully twenty-four hours' start their pursuers advanced as rapidly as
the ground would permit. The very clearness of the trail was evidence
that the Indians had no conception that they were being followed.
Confident of safety in their winter retreat, they were making no effort
to protect their rear, never dreaming there were soldiers within
hundreds of miles. Whatever report Dupont had made, it had awakened no
alarm. Why should it? So far as he knew there were but two men
pursuing him into the wilderness, and both of these he believed lying
dead in the snow.
Steadily, mile after mile, they rode, and it was after dark when the
little column was finally halted beside a stream, where they could
safely hide themselves in a patch of timber. Tiny fires were built
under protection of the steep banks of the creek, and the men made
coffee, and fed their hungry horses. The silence was profound. It was
a dark night, although the surrounding snow plains yielded a spectral
light. Major Elliott, drinking coffee and munching hard-tack with the
troop captain, sent for Sergeant Hamlin.
The latter advanced within the glow of the fire, and saluted.
"We have been gaining on those fellows, Sergeant," the Major began,
"and must be drawing close to the Washita."
"We are travelling faster than they did, sir," was the reply, "because
they had to break trail, and there were some women and children with
them. I have no knowledge of this region, but the creek empties into
the Washita without doubt."
"That would be my judgment. Sparling and I were just talking it over.
I shall wait here until Custer comes up; my force is too small to
attack openly, and my orders are not to bring on an engagement. Custer
has some Osage scouts with him who will know this country."
"But, Major," ventured Hamlin, "if the General follows our trail it
will be hours yet before he can reach here, and then his men will be
completely exhausted."
"He will not follow our trail. He has Corbin and 'California Joe' with
him. They are plainsmen who know their business. He 'll cross the
Canadian, and strike out across the plains to intercept us. In that
way he will have no farther to travel than we have had. In my judgment
we shall not wait here long alone. Have you eaten?"
"No, sir; I have been stationing the guard."
"Then sit down here and share what little we have. We can waive
formality to-night."
It was after nine o'clock when the sentries challenged the advance of
Custer's column, as it stole silently out of the gloom. Ten minutes
later the men were hovering about the fires, absorbing such small
comforts as were possible, while the General and Major Elliott
discussed the situation and planned to push forward. An hour later the
fires were extinguished, the horses quietly saddled, and noiselessly
the tired cavalrymen moved out once more and took up the trail. The
moon had risen, lighting up the desert, and the Osage guides, together
with the two scouts, led the way. At Custer's request Hamlin rode
beside him in lead of the troopers. Not a word was spoken above a
whisper, and strict orders were passed down the line prohibiting the
lighting of a match or the smoking of a pipe. Canteens were muffled
and swords thrust securely under saddle flaps. Like a body of spectres
they moved silently across the snow in the moonlight, cavalry capes
drawn over their heads, the only sound the crunching of horses' hoofs
breaking through the crust.
The trail was as distinct as a road, and the guides pushed ahead as
rapidly as by daylight, yet with ever increasing caution. Suddenly one
of the Osages signalled for a halt, averring that he smelled fire. The
scouts dismounted and crept forward, discovering a small campfire,
deserted but still smouldering, in a strip of timber. Careful
examination made it certain that this fire must have been kindled by
Indian boys, herding ponies during the day, and probably meant that the
village was very close at hand. The Osage guides and the two white
scouts again picked up the trail, the cavalry advancing slowly some
distance behind. Custer, accompanied by Hamlin, rode a yard to the
rear and joined the scouts, who were cautiously feeling their way up a
slight declivity.
The Osage in advance crept through the snow to the crest of the ridge
and looked carefully down into the valley below. Instantly his hand
went up in a gesture of caution and he hurriedly made his cautious way
back to where Custer sat his horse waiting.
"What is it? What did you see?"
"Heap Injuns down there!"
The General swung down from his saddle, motioned the Sergeant to
follow, and the two men crept to the crest and looked over. The dim
moonlight was confusing, while the shadow of timber rendered everything
indistinct. Yet they were able to make out a herd of ponies,
distinguished the distant bark of a dog and the tinkle of a bell.
Without question this was the Indians' winter camp, and they had
reached it undiscovered. Custer glanced at his watch--the hour was
past midnight. He pressed Hamlin's sleeve, his lips close to the
Sergeant's ear.
"Creep back, and bring my officers up here," he whispered. "Have them
take off their sabres."
As they crept, one after the other, to where he lay in the snow, the
General, whose eyes had become accustomed to the moon-gleam, pointed
out the location of the village and such natural surroundings as could
be vaguely distinguished. The situation thus outlined in their minds,
they drew silently back from the crest, leaving there a single Osage
guide on guard, and returned to the waiting regiment, standing to horse
less than a mile distant. Custer's orders for immediate attack came
swiftly, and Hamlin, acting as his orderly, bore them to the several
commands. The entire force was slightly in excess of eight hundred
men, and there was every probability that the Indians outnumbered them
five to one. Scouts had reported to Sheridan that this camp of Black
Kettle's was the winter rendezvous not only of Cheyennes, but also of
bands of fighting Arapahoes, Kiowas, Comanches, and even some Apaches,
the most daring and desperate warriors of the plains. Yet this was no
time to hesitate, to debate; it was a moment for decisive action. The
blow must be struck at once, before daylight, with all the power of
surprise.
The little body of cavalrymen was divided into four detachments. Two
of these were at once marched to the left, circling the village
silently in the darkness, and taking up a position at the farther
extremity. A third detachment moved to the right, and found their way
down into the valley, where they lay concealed in a strip of timber.
Custer, with the fourth detachment under his own command, remained in
position on the trail. The sleeping village was thus completely
surrounded, and the orders were for those in command of the different
forces to approach as closely as possible without running risk of
discovery, and then to remain absolutely quiet until daybreak. Not a
match was to be lighted nor a shot fired until the charge was sounded
by the trumpeter who remained with Custer. Then all were to spur
forward as one man.