J. J. REYNOLDS, Colonel Third Cavalry.
Thirty-nine men! Why, Captain Jack had never more than fifty-three men with him, all told. Call the roll, let us see where they are now:—
1. Captain Jack. A voice from—well, it’s uncertain where,—a slanderous rumor says, from a medical museum, Washington city,—answers, “Here.”
2. Schonchin. “Here,” comes up from one of the graves in the parade-ground, Fort Klamath.
3. Boston Charley. “Here,” whispers a spirit, hanging over one of the graves in the same cemetery.
4. Black Jim. “Here,” comes up through the thick sod beside “Boston.”
5. Ellen’s Man. “Here,” answer scattered bones that were drawn off the Dry-lake battle-ground, by a Warm Springs scout, with a reatta, and now bleaching in among the rocks of the Lava Beds.
6. Shacknasty Jake, from a skull which furnished several scalps during the three days’ battle, when its owner was killed in petticoat, comes in hollow voice, “Here.”
7. Shacknasty Frank; the ashes of a warrior who was wounded in a skirmish on the fifteenth of January, and died in the Lava Beds, answers, “Here.”
8. Curly-haired Jack. The answer comes from the bones of a suicide, muttered up through the blood of Sherwood, “Here.”