“No. If cavalry, they must be Custer. Terry would hardly have had time to get in this far.”
“Look for the gray horse troop, then,” suggested Captain Benteen. “Troop E; Smith’s. That will tell the story.”
An hour passed; and hurrah, here came the three couriers, hastening along the ridge! With them was a fourth rider. The dust also was nearing; soon the men under it would be in sight.
The squad of four arrived panting with their haste. The extra man was a scout, by his rig. He was weary and travel-worn.
“’Tis an army column; cavalry and infantry both, sir,” reported the corporal of the three couriers; and the strange scout handed to Major Reno a soiled note.
The major read it—read it twice, and passed it to the next officer.
“What do you make of it, gentlemen?” he asked, anxiously. “You say that’s Terry yonder?” he queried of the scout:
The scout nodded, and out of drawn face answered.
“Yes, sir.”