The outfit consisted of two ambulances and one Government wagon, which carried the tents and supplies.  Each officer had a horse to ride if he chose.  If he preferred to ride in the ambulance his orderly was on hand to lead his horse for him.

We traveled steadily till ten o’clock in the morning, through herds of buffalo whose numbers were past counting.  I remember that General Sherman estimated that the number of buffalo on the Plains at that time must have been more than eleven million.  It required all the energy of the soldiers and scouts to keep a road cleared through the herds so that the ambulance might pass.

We breakfasted during the morning stop and rested the horses.  For the men there was plenty of water, which we had brought along in canteens and camp kettles.  There was also a little for the animals, enough to keep them from suffering on the way.

Two o’clock found us still making our way through the buffalo herds, but with no Council Springs in sight.  Curtis was on ahead, and one of the lieutenants, feeling a little nervous, rode up to another of the scouts.

“How far are we from the Springs?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” said the guide uneasily.  “I never was over here before, but if any one knows where the Springs are that young fellow over there does.”  He pointed to me.

“When will we get to the Springs?” asked the officer, turning in my direction.

“Never—­if we keep on going the way we are now,” I said.

“Why don’t you tell the General that?” he demanded.

I said that Curtis was the guide, not I; whereupon he dropped back alongside the ambulance in which Sherman was riding and reported what had happened.

The General instantly called a halt and sent for the scouts.  When all of us, including Curtis, had gathered round him he got out of the ambulance, and, pulling out a map, directed Curtis to locate the Springs on it.

“There has never been a survey made of this country, General,” said Curtis.  “None of these maps are correct.”

“I know that myself,” said Sherman.  “How far are we from the Springs?”

The guide hesitated.  “I have never been there but once,” he said, “and then I was with a big party of Indians who did the guiding.”  He added that on a perfectly flat country, dotted with buffalo, he could not positively locate our destination.  Unless we were sighted and guided by Indians we would have to chance it.

Sherman swung round on the rest of us.  “Do any of you know where the Springs are?” he asked, looking directly at me.

“Yes, sir,” I said, “I do.”

“How do you know, Billy?” asked Curtis.

“I used to come over here with Charley Bath, the Indian trader,” I said.

“Where are we now?” asked Sherman.

“About twelve miles from the Springs.  They are due south.”

“Due south!  And we are traveling due west!”