On the third of October the Fifth Cavalry arrived at Fort Hays, and I at once began making the acquaintance of the members of the regiment.  General Sheridan introduced me to Colonel Royal, the commander, whom I found a gallant officer and an agreeable gentleman.  I also became acquainted with Major W.H.  Brown, Major Walker, Captain Sweetman, Quartermaster E.M.  Hays, and many others of the men with whom I was soon to be associated.

General Sheridan, being anxious to punish the Indians who had lately fought General Forsythe, did not give the regiment much of a rest.  On October 5th it began the march to Beaver Creek country.

The first night we camped on the south fork of Big Creek, four miles west of Hays City.  By this time I had become well acquainted with Major Brown and Captain Sweetman.  They invited me to mess with them, and a jolly mess we had.  There were other scouts with the command besides myself.  I particularly remember Tom Kenahan, Hank Fields, and a character called “Nosey.”

The morning of the 6th we pulled out to the north.  During the day I was particularly struck with the appearance of the regiment.  It was a beautiful command, and when strung out on the prairies with, a train of seventy-five six-mule wagons, ambulances, and pack-mules, I felt very proud of my position as guide and chief of scouts with such a warlike expedition.

Just as we were going into camp on the Saline River that night we ran into a band of some fifteen Indians.  They saw us, and dashed across the creek, followed by some bullets which we sent after them.

This little band proved to be only a scouting party, so we followed it only a mile or two.  Our attention was directed shortly to a herd of buffaloes, and we killed ten or fifteen for the command.

Next day we marched thirty miles.  When we went into camp Colonel Royal asked me to go out and kill some buffaloes for the boys.

“All right, colonel,” I said; “send along a wagon to bring in the meat.”

“I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons till I know there is something to be hauled in,” he said.  “Kill your buffaloes first, and I’ll send the wagons.”

Without further words I went out on my hunt.  After a short absence I returned and asked the colonel to send his wagons for the half-dozen buffaloes I had killed.

The following afternoon he again requested me to go out after buffaloes.  I didn’t ask for any wagons this time, but rode out some distance, and, coming upon a small herd, headed seven or eight of them directly for the camp.  Instead of shooting them I ran them at full speed right into the place and then killed them one after another in rapid succession.

Colonel Royal, who witnessed the whole proceeding, was annoyed and puzzled, as he could see no good reason why I had not killed the buffaloes on the prairie.

Coming up angry, he demanded an explanation.