Ten minutes afterwards the cavalry crossed the bridge two deep, and wound snake-like towards the corner. With the first files came General Custer, accompanied by half-a-dozen officers, among whom Bancroft recognized the young lieutenant. Singling Morris out, the General rode up to the fence and addressed him with formal politeness:
“Mr. Conklin?”
“No,” replied Morris, “but I'm hyar fer him, I guess—an' about two hundred more ef I'm not enough,” he added drily, waving his hand towards the woods.
With a half-turn in his saddle and a glance at the line of trees on his flank, General Custer took in the situation. Clearly there was nothing to do but to retreat, with some show of dignity.
“Where shall I find Mr. Conklin? I wish to speak to him.”
“I'll guide you,” was Morris's answer, “ef you'll come alone; he mightn't fancy so many visitors to onc't.”
As Morris and Bancroft climbed over the fence and led the way towards the homestead, some of the armed farmers strolled from behind the stooks into the open, and others showed themselves carelessly among the trees on the bank of the creek. When the Elder was informed that General Custer was at the front door, he laid down his axe, and in his shirtsleeves went to meet him.
“Mr. Conklin, I believe?”
“That's my name, General.”
“You've resisted United States troops with arms, and now, it seems, you've got up a rebellion.”