In his house the general was the same rollicking, active spirit that he was when ahorse; on duty at the post or afield, and mingling with the soldiers, he acted the strict officer. He might joke with the other officers, but all the men understood that he was the chief, and that he would brook no intrusion upon his military dignity. Thus, although they called him (out of his hearing) the “old man,” and “old Jack” (because of the initials G. A. C., for George Armstrong Custer, on his baggage), they saluted promptly, and obeyed instantly, and tried no jokes on him!
Through the long winter officers, recruits and horses were arriving almost daily at Fort Riley, to bring up the Seventh Cavalry roll. Ned grew to know them all. The yellow-haired, boyish General Custer remained in command; for although he ranked as lieutenant-colonel, his superior officer of the regiment, Colonel Andrew Jackson Smith, a major-general and a veteran, who dated back to 1838, was kept on duty elsewhere. Therefore “old Jack” held the reins at the post—and the soldiers were speedily brought to know it.
Of the younger officers Ned liked especially his Captain, Louis M. Hamilton—who was also a lieutenant-colonel; First Lieutenant Tom Custer, the general’s light-hearted younger brother, a lieutenant-colonel who had enlisted in the war at sixteen and wore two medals for enemy’s flags captured; Captain Myles Keogh, who had served the Pope as well as in the Army of the Potomac; Lieutenant Myles Moylan the adjutant; and the young second lieutenants who were called “shave-tails” and “tad-poles” and “plebes.”
Wild Bill, the frontiersman scout, was at the post frequently, passing up and down, by horse or stage, along the trail west. He was as particular in his dress as was old Major Gibbs; everything that he wore was of the finest material, from the ruffle-pleated soft white shirt and broad-cloth in Junction City to the blue flannel shirt and riding-breeches on the trail. No matter how dressed, he was always the same quiet, courteous personage—but he never was seen without the two ivory-handled revolvers ready at his hips. Report said that he could shoot to the centre without sighting; and could shoot backward over his shoulder or under his arm, with an equal deadliness.
All the winter the soldiers were steadily drilled, and put under constant discipline. “Whipped into shape,” said Bugler Odell. Some men complained, and some deserted; but the better men realized that the strict training was necessary.
Bugles were ringing from early till late. Two buglers were attached to each company. Ned found himself assigned to the company of Captain Hamilton, and he was glad of that. Now he wore the bugler’s uniform, which had narrow double strips of yellow down the trousers, and yellow braid across the chest. It really was a uniform equal to that of any officer; but——
“All stripes and no authority,” with a laugh declared Odell, who was chief bugler. “That’s what they say o’ the trumpeter.”
The winter passed without any Indian fights, but with the Seventh Cavalry getting ready. The railroad trains arrived, and excursionists were more plentiful than ever: some wanted to hunt buffalo and some wanted to see Indians, and some wanted to look for land. Rumors reported that the Cheyennes and the Sioux and the Arapahos to the westward were not keeping their promises; and that this spring they would oppose the further advance of the railroad through their hunting grounds. The settlers of western Kansas were becoming alarmed again. The Seventh Cavalry must protect them, and the Smoky Hill stage and emigrant route to Denver, and the railroad survey.
Soon was it known that as quick as the spring opened the Seventh Cavalry would take the field. By this time Ned, under the teaching of Chief Bugler Odell, was a thorough trumpeter. Reveille, sick call, mess call, stables, boots and saddles, the assembly, drill, fire, trot, charge, tattoo, taps—he knew them all. He had learned “The Girl I Left Behind Me”; and he had learned “Garryowen”——
“Our hearts so stout have got us fame,
For soon ’tis known from whence we came
Where’er we go they dread the name
Of Garryowen in glory.”