"It is probably as authentic as a great many stories that are started during times like these—that is all I know of it, sir." (Lord forgive me.)
"It seems almost too horrible to be true, and yet, one cannot tell about those Sioux. They're a bad lot—a devilish bad lot"—this to my captain—and then to me: "You go back to your office, corporal, and remain very close until you have a denial or a confirmation of this story and bring any news you may receive to me instanter. That's all corporal."
The "corporal" needed no second dismissal, and saluting I quickly got out of an atmosphere that was far from chilly to me.
Now, by my cussed propensity for joking, I had involved myself in this mess, and there was but one way out of it, and that was to brazen it out for a while longer and then post a denial of the supposed awful rumor. But the denial must come over the wire, so when I reached my office I called up Spofford and told old man Livingston what I had done and what I wanted him to do for me, and in about half an hour he sent me a "bulletin" saying that the previous report had happily proved unfounded and the 6th and 9th Cavalry were all right. This message I took at once to the colonel and as he read it he heaved a big sigh of relief, but he dismissed me with a very peculiar look in his eye.
The next evening as I was passing the colonel's quarters on my way to deliver a message to the hospital, I heard him remark to another officer, "Major, don't you think it is strange that the papers received to-day make no mention of that frightful report received-here yesterday morning relative to the supposed massacre of the 6th and 9th Cavalry?"
No, the major didn't think it a bit strange. Maybe he knew that newspaper stories should be taken cum grano salis, and then maybe he knew me.
There were no more "fake reports" from that office.