One evening while we were in camp on the Yellowstone at the mouth of the Powder River I was informed that Louis Richard, a half-breed scout, and myself, had been selected to accompany General Miles on a reconnaisance.  We were to take the steamer Far West down the Yellowstone as far as Glendive Creek.  We were to ride in the pilot-house and keep a sharp look-out for Indians on both banks of the river.  The idea of scouting from a steamboat was to me an altogether novel one, and I was immensely pleased at the prospect.

At daylight the next morning we reported on the steamer to General Miles, who had with him four or five companies of his regiment.  We were somewhat surprised when he asked us why we had not brought our horses.  We were at a loss to see how we could employ horses in the pilothouse of a river steamboat.  He said that we might need them before we got back, so we sent for them and had them brought on board.

In a few minutes we were looking down the river, the swift current enabling the little steamer to make a speed of twenty miles an hour.

The commander of the Far West was Captain Grant March, a fine chap of whom I had often heard.  For many years he was one of the most famous swift-water river captains in the country.  It was on his steamer that the wounded from the battle of the Little Big Horn had been transported to Fort Abraham Lincoln, on the Missouri River.  On that trip he made the fastest steamboat time on record.  He was an excellent pilot, and handled his boat in those swift and dangerous waters with remarkable dexterity.

With Richard and me at our station in the pilothouse the little steamer went flying down-stream past islands, around bends, and over sandbars at a rate that was exhilarating, but sometimes a little disquieting to men who had done most of their navigating on the deck of a Western pony.  Presently, far away inland, I thought I could see horses grazing, and reported this belief to General Miles.  The general pointed out a large tree on the bank, and asked the captain if he could land the boat there.

“I can not only land her there; I can make her climb the tree if you think it would be any use,” returned March.

He brought the boat skillfully alongside the tree, and let it go at that, as the general could see no particular advantage in sending the steamboat up the tree.

Richard and I were ordered to take our horses and push out as rapidly as possible to see if there were any Indians in the vicinity.  Meanwhile, General Miles kept his soldiers in readiness to march instantly if we reported any work for them to do.

As we rode off, Captain March, sang out: 

“Boys, if there was only a heavy dew on the grass, I could send the old craft right along after you.”

It was a false alarm, however.  The objects I had seen proved to be Indian graves, with only good Indians in them.  On arriving at Glendive Creek we found that Colonel Rice and his company of the Fifth Infantry which had been sent on ahead by General Miles had built a good little fort with their trowel bayonets.  Colonel Rice was the inventor of this weapon, and it proved very useful in Indian warfare.  It is just as deadly in a charge as the regular bayonet, and can also be used almost as effectively as a shovel for digging rifle-pits and throwing up intrenchments.