Ninety miles along the Smoky Hill route was another Seventh Cavalry post, Fort Harker, formerly named Fort Ellsworth. This was not much of a fort, being composed of just a few bare, sod-roofed log cabins, bravely floating the Stars and Stripes. Still further west were Fort Hays and Fort Wallace or Pond Creek. However, increased at Fort Harker by two more troops of the Seventh, the expedition turned off south for Fort Larned, seventy miles across country, down by the Arkansas River and the old Santa Fé Trail into New Mexico. A wagon road branched off for it, from Harker.
At Fort Harker the expedition was met by a tall, bearded, soldierly man who, Ned speedily heard as the word traveled through the column, was Colonel Jesse H. Leavenworth, son of the older army man for whom Fort Leavenworth was named, and formerly an army officer himself.
“He served out on the Colorado plains during the war,” at noon halt explained Sergeant Kennedy—whom Ned much liked. “Commanded the Rocky Mountain Rangers. A fine officer, they say. Now he’s the agent for the Comanches and Kiowas, down at Larned. There’s another army man and agent, too, at the same place: Major Wyncoop. His Injuns are Arapahos, Cheyennes and ’Paches. Each agent blames t’other one for damage done.”
“How big is Fort Larned?” queried Ned.
“Well, Larned’s a fair post, but nothing like Riley, in size. Lots of Injuns come in there, for their supplies and to trade buffalo-robes. Stages and emigrants stop there, too.”
The weather continued mild and pleasant, and the march might have seemed only a practice march, had it not been for the scouts now riding more widely in front and on the flanks, examining the landscape. By this might it be known that the real Indian country had been reached.
However, no Indians at all came near the march. They still were in their winter villages, awaiting the signal of the bursting willow buds and the greening grass. On duty regularly at headquarters tent, Ned could not help but hear most of the conversation; and he heard Colonel Leavenworth talking with General Custer.
“My Indians are mostly camped down south, on the Texas border,” was explaining Colonel Leavenworth. “It will be hard to get them up this far, until they draw their rations. Satanta is coming, though, to tell you what he thinks.”
“The red rascal,” accused General Custer, roundly.
“N-no, he’s a smart Injun. He’s quite a man, Custer,” declared the colonel. “I can count on Satanta, and he’s the chief of the Kiowas. The Injuns you fellows want to look close after are that crowd of Wyncoop’s. I understand Wyncoop has sent out word for them to come in to Larned and meet you in a council.”