Now the immense village was in sight: large bands of warriors made their appearance on all sides, some of them mounted, others on foot.
That there was serious business before them every man in that regiment saw by intuition; bloody work that would ring from one end of the land to the other, and yet how few of them suspected in what a terrible way it would end.
Custer was reckless; every military man has agreed upon that.
He possessed a willful trait in his character that at times showed itself, and when the occasion presented, as it was fated to do before this day was over, merged into an indomitable stubborn nature. This one serious fault was generally hidden beneath his dashing spirit, and it would be a difficult thing to have met a more social companion than this hero of the last Indian war.
There was something wrong about him on this day when he committed his fatal error.
United in a solid body, the regiment might have cut its way through the Indian camp, and in the end come out victorious.
Custer either considered his force stronger than it really was, or else underestimated the fighting powers of the enemy.
He was too confident, and, in order that the Indians should not escape, ordered Major Reno, with three companies, to enter the valley where the trail struck it.
The yellow-haired cavalry leader took five companies himself, numbering over three hundred men, with the avowed intention of entering the village some three miles further down.
Major Reno could offer no remonstrance to his superior officer, although perhaps he may have felt that this plan was a most dangerous one.