“Mrs. Custer didn’t start, then?” asked the general, of Lieutenant Cook.
“No, sir. Thank God she didn’t. She was ready to, had her baggage tied up, and General Hancock forbade. I don’t think she liked that very well. I have a letter for you from her.”
General Custer took the letter, and read it in the saddle.
From the talk it appeared that the wagon-train had fought hard and well, for three hours. The wagons were scarred with bullets; in them were several wounded men; and throughout the column were a number of wounded horses and mules. Ned heard a conversation between Lieutenant Cook and another officer, that showed how serious had been the situation.
“Would you have done it, Cook?” asked the officer, keenly.
Lieutenant Cook firmly nodded.
“I should. When the attack developed I said to myself, at once: ‘If Mrs. Custer were here, in my charge, the first thing I must do would be to ride to her ambulance and mercifully shoot her. That is my solemn promise to the general.’”
“Whew!” sighed the other officer, gravely. “That would be horrible. But not so horrible,” he added, “as to let her or any other white woman fall alive into the hands of the Indians.”
“We promised the general, in regard to Mrs. Custer,” said the lieutenant. “He made us promise, and he knows that we intended to keep our word.”