As the two columns pushed ahead, Ned’s heart beat as it always beat before a fight. He was seeing Indians, in the rocks and the brush—but they vanished when he looked hard. He was not afraid; no, not afraid. General Custer himself commanded, and the very best officers of the regiment were here: gallant Captain Tom, and brave Captain Keogh of two great wars, and Captain Yates the dandy, and Lieutenant Smith with crippled arm, and Lieutenant Calhoun who had married Maggie Custer, and Lieutenant “Queen’s Own” Cook the adjutant. They all had been at the battle of the Washita. And here were Captain Lord the surgeon and little “Autie” and good old “Bos” and the civilian Mr. Kellogg, who wrote for the New York Herald. Isaiah the black squaw-man and “Lonesome” Charley Reynolds were over there with Major Reno.
But where were the Sioux? How long before the Little Big Horn would be reached, where stood the village?
The Ree and the Crow scouts were spread out, across the valley. He could see Bloody Knife, and Bob-tail Bull and Stab and Half-Yellow-Face and Curly the Crow who spoke English. Now they all had gathered in a group, and had made a smoke. Yes—there were some Sioux! The scouts had left the smoke and were chasing other riders; just a few. When the troops reached the place of the smoke they found it to be from a tipi with a dead Sioux inside. The scouts had set fire to the tipi, and had chased Sioux warriors out of the place which seemed to have been a small village camp.
“Oh, Cook,” called the general; and Adjutant Cook trotted to him. “Tell Reno the Indians are running away. The village must be only about two miles off yonder. Tell him to move on at as rapid a gait as he thinks prudent, and when he strikes the village to charge; and the whole outfit will support him.”
Adjutant Cook galloped across to Major Reno. Major Reno turned in his saddle to give the order; his column broke into a fast trot; and amidst a cloud of dust away they went, forging ahead, veering to the left as they followed the trail down beside a little stream, and around the point of a high ridge. The Little Big Horn was close before, at the end of the valley!
But the general led his column away from the trail, more to the right. Everybody listened, while peering; listened for the cheers and the volleys of the major or of Captain Benteen.
“Steady, men,” warned Captain Keogh, on his horse Comanche, to his company, behind Ned’s position.
They were climbing the hither flank of the ridge around which Major Reno now had disappeared. The moments seemed hours. With thud of rapid hoof came galloping from the rear a trooper; he was a corporal, Major Reno’s orderly. By the general’s side he pulled short to his horse’s haunches and saluted.
“The Major’s compliments, sir, and says he is at the river and has everything in front of him and they are strong.”