"I have determined to organize a scouting party of fifty men from among the frontiersmen living here on the border. There is no law that will permit me to enlist them, and I can only employ them as scouts through the quartermaster's department. I will offer them a dollar a day, and thirty-five cents a day for the use of their horses, which will, I think, bring good material. Of course, the government will equip them, and they will draw soldier's rations. If you care for the command, you can have it, and I will give you Lieutenant Fred Beecher, of the Third Infantry, for your second in command."
"Thank you, General," was Forsyth's answer. "I accept the command with pleasure."
"I thought you would," said Sheridan, smiling. "And yet I hesitated to offer it. Understand if I had anything better, you should have it."
"I am glad to get this," was the reply of the gallant Major.
There was little difficulty in obtaining capable men for the new command. There were hundreds of Civil War veterans upon the frontier, while many a plainsman was only too ready to have an opportunity of getting even with the wild riders of the West. In fact, men had to be turned away, so eagerly did recruits flock to the standard of the Original Rough Rider. In two days, Forsyth—who had been with Sheridan in his famous ride from Winchester to Cedar Creek—had enrolled thirty men at Fort Harker. Sixty miles westward was Fort Hayes, where twenty more were obtained two days later, so that in five days from the time that Forsyth had been given the command, he was marching into the Indian country at the head of as brave a body of plainsmen as ever swung a rifle across their shoulders. They were looking for trouble, and they found it.
Roman Nose and his Cheyennes were known to be somewhere near the Republican River, northwest of Fort Hayes, and, as the little troop scouted northwards, there were frequent indications of large camps of Indians which had been abandoned only a few days before the arrival of the command. On the morning of September 10th., a small war party of savages attacked a train near Sheridan, a tiny railroad town some eighty miles beyond Fort Wallace, another fort where Forsyth had stopped to rest his men. They had killed two teamsters and had run off a few cattle.
Immediately Forsyth's Rough Riders were upon the trail of these Indians, and followed it until darkness put an end to all pursuit. Next morning the chase was continued, the trail grew continually larger, and finally developed into a broad, well-beaten road, leading up the Arickaree fork of the Republican River. It was evident that a large number of Indians was ahead, but Forsyth had come out to fight, not to run away, so he pressed hard after the retreating band. As darkness fell on the evening of the eighth day from Fort Wallace, the command was halted and went into camp near a little sandy island in the river: a mere sandspit of earth formed by the shallow stream as it divided and then came together again about a hundred yards from the place of parting. The water was only about eight feet wide and two or three inches deep.
During the last three days of the march, game had been very scarce, which convinced the soldiers that the Indians, whose trail they were following, had scoured the country with their hunting parties, and had driven off every kind of wild animal. Provisions were getting low. The day following would see the command nearly out of supplies of all kinds. But Forsyth was called "Sandy," because of his grit and nerve, and he determined to push on after the redskins until he found them, and to fight them even if he could not whip them, in order that they might realize that the Government was in earnest when it said that the marauders of the peaceful settlements were to be punished.
The first flush of dawn was reddening the sky next morning, when Forsyth, who was awake, suddenly caught sight of something moving stealthily by upon the horizon. At the same moment the sentry saw it, and cocking their rifles, the two soldiers gazed intently into the dim distance. Suddenly the soft thud of galloping hoofs came to their ears, and, peering just above the crest of rising ground between themselves and the horizon, they caught sight of the waving feathers upon the scalp-locks of three mounted warriors. In an instant their rifles spoke in unison, and with the cry of "Indians! Turn out! Indians!" they ran back to the camp. In a second it was in confusion. Men jumped to their feet and seized their rifles, as with a loud shouting, beating of Indian drums, and rattling of dried hides, about a dozen redskins galloped down upon the camp in the apparent endeavor to stampede the horses. Crack! crack! sounded the well-aimed rifles of the scouts, and, as the Indians sheered off, carrying with them three of the pack mules, one of their number dropped to the turf.
"Saddle up! Saddle up, quickly, men!" was the next order, and, in a very few moments, the horses were saddled and bridled, while every man stood ready to mount. Daylight had begun to appear by now, so that one could see objects within a few hundred yards; when suddenly an old-time scout, who stood next to Forsyth, put his hand upon his shoulder, and cried: "Oh, heavens, General! Look at the Indians!"