It was a dangerous ride, and yet in the face of this murderous fire these valiant men rode on, turning neither to the right nor the left, but keeping straight forward.
Now and then a trooper, exasperated beyond endurance by the fall of some dear comrade, would discharge his carbine at the Indians who showed themselves boldly on one side.
Owing to the rapid motion these shots were indifferently rewarded, only a few of the most expert hitting the objects of their aim.
On ordinary occasions old Pandy Ellis would have been one of the first to prove his markmanship, but something seemed to keep his attention riveted in one direction, and amidst the storm of hissing bullets, growing momentarily louder and more threatening, the prairie ranger rode as calmly as if indeed there was no danger.
But if our old friend paid little attention to this deadly discharge from all quarters, others made up for his lack of interest, and growls of dissatisfaction arose on all sides; not at their leader, but because it was almost impossible to return the fire of the enemy.
With his usual disregard for danger, Custer rode in the advance, where his form was a prominent mark for all concealed sharp-shooters; but the general, in spite of all, seemed to bear a charmed life.
He leaned forward in the saddle, and seemed to be scrutinizing some point of land, toward which his attention had been drawn by Bloody-Knife, one of his Crow scouts.
It was at this moment, after a gallop of nearly three miles after leaving Major Reno, that Custer gave a start and uttered an exclamation as a bullet grazed his flesh, making a slight but burning skin wound.
Aroused to action by this, his quick eye took in all the surroundings, and immediately the order was given to change the route.
Passing over the crown of the bluffs, the cavalry rushed down toward where the Little Big Horn ran noisily over its bed.