Mrs. D. then proposed a walk to some of the public buildings; but we were driven back by a gust of wind and rain, that swept over the bluffs that hem them in on the north-west, carrying with it a cloud of sand and dust. The clouds soon passed over, and we started over to see the cavalry drill, but again were driven back by the rain, and we watched the cavalrymen trooping in, after the battle had been fought, the greys in one company, and sorrels in another.

There were only about 200 soldiers at the post. The keeping up of a post is a great cost, yet it is a needed expense, as the knowledge of the soldiers being so near helps to keep the Indians quiet. Yet I could not see what would hinder them from overpowering that little handful of soldiers, despite their two gatling guns, that would shoot 1,000 Indians per minute, if every bullet would count, if they were so disposed. But they have learned that such an outbreak would be retaliated by other troops, and call down the indignation of their sole keeper and support—"Uncle Sam."

We were interested in hearing Lieut. Davis speak in words of highest praise of Lieut. Cherry, whose death in 1881 was so untimely and sad, as he was soon to bear a highly estimable young lady away from near my own home as a bride, whom he met at Washington, D.C., in '79, where he spent a portion of a leave of absence granted him in recognition of brave and conspicuous services at the battle of the Little Big Horn, known as Custer's massacre. He was a graduate of West Point, was a brave, intelligent, rising young officer. Not only was he a good soldier, but also a man of upright life, and his untimely and violent death brought grief to many hearts, and robbed the world of a good man and a patriot. As the story of his death, and what it led to is interesting, I will briefly repeat it:

Some time before this event happened, there were good grounds for believing that there was a band formed between some of the soldiers and rough characters about the fort to rob the paymaster, but it became known, and a company was sent to guard him from Long Pine. Not long after this a half-breed killed another in a saloon row, near the fort, and Lieut. Cherry was detailed to arrest the murderer. Lieut. C. took with him a small squad of soldiers, and two Indian scouts. When they had been out two days, the murderer was discovered in some rock fastnesses, and as the Lieutenant was about to secure him, he was shot by one of the soldiers of the squad by the name of Locke, in order to let the fugitive escape. The murderer of Lieut. C. escaped in the confusion that followed, but Spotted Tail, chief of the Sioux Indians, who held the lieutenant in great esteem, ordered out a company of spies under Crow Dog, one of his under chiefs, to hunt him down. They followed his trail until near Fort Pierre, where they found him under arrest. They wanted to bring him back to Fort Niobrara, but were not allowed to. He was tried and paid the penalty of life for life—a poor return for such a one as he had taken.

He was evidently one of the band before mentioned, but ignorant of this the lieutenant had chosen him to be a help, and instead was the taker of his life.

When Crow Dog returned without the murderer of Lieut. C., Spotted Tail was very angry, and put him under arrest. Soon after, when the Indians were about to start on their annual hunt, Spotted Tail would not let Crow Dog go, which made the feud still greater. In the fall, when Spotted Tail was about to start to Washington to consult about the agency lands, Crow Dog had his wife drive his wagon up to Spotted Tail's tepee, and call him out, when Crow Dog, who lay concealed in the wagon, rose up and shot him, and made his escape, but was so closely followed that after three days he came into Fort Niobrara, and gave himself up. He has been twice tried, and twice sentenced to death, but has again been granted a new trial, and is now a prisoner at Fort Pierre.

The new county is named Cherry in honor of the beloved lieutenant.

While taking tea, we informed Lieut. Davis that it was our intention to return on a combination train that would leave Valentine about 3 o'clock. Finding we would then have little time to reach the train, he immediately ordered the ambulance, and telephoned to hold the train a half hour for our arrival, as it was then time for it to leave. And bidding our kind entertainers a hasty good bye, we were soon on our way. Although I felt I could not do Fort Niobrara and the strange beauty of the surrounding country justice by cutting my visit so short, yet I was glad to be off on a day train, as the regular passenger train left after night, and my confidence in the cow-boys and the rough looking characters seen on the street, was not sufficiently established by their quiet demeanor of the morning to fancy meeting a night train. The riddled sign-boards showed that there was a great amount of ammunition used there, and we did not care to have any of it used on us, or our good opinion of them spoiled by a longer stay, and, too, we wanted to have a daylight view of the country from there to Long Pine. So we did not feel sorry to see the driver lash the four mules into a gallop. At the bridge, spanning the Niobrara, we met Rev. Herbert and a couple of others on their way to the fort, who told us they thought the train had already started; but the driver only urged the mules to a greater speed, and as I clung to the side of the ambulance, I asked:

"Do mules ever run off?"

"Sometimes they do."