"A message from the 29th Infantry, sir, saying they are surrounded by the Sioux Indians and want help."
Colonel Foster read the message, and exclaimed,
"My God! Charlie Clarke stuck out there and wants help! Dunn, have the trumpeter sound 'Boots and Saddles.' Present my compliments to the adjutant and tell him I desire him to report to me at once. Kraus,"—this to his Dutch striker who was standing around in open-mouthed wonderment—"saddle my horse and get my field kit ready at once. Be quick about it."
A few men had seen Dunn's mad rush to the colonel's quarters and suspected that something was up, so they were not surprised a few minutes later to hear "Boots and Saddles" ring out on the clear morning air. The command had been in readiness for field service for some days, and but a few moments elapsed until six sturdy troops were standing in line on the snow-covered parade. A hurried inspection was made by the troop commanders and then Colonel Foster commanded "Fours right, trot, march," and away they went on their sixty-mile ride of rescue. A few halts were made during the day to tighten girths, and at six o'clock a short rest was made for coffee.
The sound of the firing across the river shortly after Hogan left the 29th was plainly heard by his comrades and many a man was heard to exclaim, "It's all up with poor Denny." But the firing grew more distant and Colonel Clarke had hopes that Hogan had successfully eluded his pursuers and determined to hold on as best he could. He knew full well that the Indians would be extraordinarily careful and that it would be folly for him to attempt to get another courier through that night. That day was indeed a hard one; it was trying to the extreme. Tenaciously did those Indians watch their prey. Well did they know by the rising of the morrow's sun the ammunition of the soldiers would be exhausted and then would come their feast of murder and scalps; Little Big Horn would be repeated.
About two o'clock, Colonel Clarke, utterly regardless of personal danger, exposed himself for a moment and Chug! down he went, shot through the thigh by a Winchester bullet. Brave old chap, never for one minute did he give up, and after having his wound dressed as best it could be done, he insisted on remaining near the fighting line. Lieutenant Jarvis was shot through the arm, Captain Belknap of E Company was lying dead near his company, and scores of other brave men had gone to their last reckoning. Hanigan, Hogan's bunkie, was badly wounded, and out of his head. Every once in a while he would mumble, "Never you mind, fellers, we will be all right yet, just stand 'em off a little while longer and Denny will be here with the 11th Cavalry. He said he'd do it and by God! he won't fail."
As the shades of the cold winter evening crept silently over the earth, the firing died away, and the command settled down to another night of the tensest anxiety and watching. Oh! why didn't those northern regiments come? Did Hogan succeed in his perilous mission? Depressed indeed were the spirits of the officers and men.
About nine o'clock Lieutenant Tracy, the adjutant, was sitting beside his chief, who was apparently asleep. Suddenly, Colonel Clarke sat up and grabbing Tracy by the arm said, "Hark! what's that noise I hear?"