“General Custer he was in command, and Colonel Benteen an’ Major Reno was his officers.  After doin’ twenty or thirty miles in th’ saddle, we was sure a s’prised bunch o’ rookies when we didn’t stop.  We didn’t stop.  No, siree!  We kep’ right on a-goin’.  We didn’t stop when we hit forty miles, nor sixty miles, nor eighty miles.  It was ninety miles from where we left Terry when th’ Old Man said, ‘Coffee an’ biscuits,’ an’ believe me, we wanted ’em bad.

“We’d bin in th’ saddle for twenty-two hours, an’ if you don’t think that’s ridin’, try it sometime.  The hosses was all in.  My hoss—­’Long Tom’ I called him—­he layed down as soon as I off-saddled him, an’ stuck his face into his nose-bag an’ eat layin’ down.  First time I ever seen a hoss do that.

“Charlie Reynolds, he was ahead, an’ he come back an’ had a pow-wow with th’ Old Man an’ Reno an’ Benteen, an’ we seen ’em workin’ th’ field glasses overtime.  ‘Course, we didn’t know what was bein’ said, or what was goin’ on.  All we c’d see was that they was mighty excited like.  All except Charlie.  He musta had his say an’ then stopped—­Injun like.  ’Cause Charlie, he was just a white Injun.

“I got Lieutenant Hodgson to let me have a peep through his glasses.  After a ride like that, in a Injun country, a regular c’n be quite on speakin’ terms with his officers, an’ when I looked through them glasses what I seed didn’t mean much t’ me.  ‘Way off, down by th’ river, was some tepees an’ stuff layin’ ’round, just like it was a Injun camp.  That’s what it looked like t’ me, an’ that’s what I found out afterwards was what it looked like t’ th’ Old Man.

“Benteen an’ Reno, they wasn’t expressin’ much opinion, as they was expectin’ t’ stay right where they was an’ wait devel’pments, like Terry said they was t’ do, but th’ Old Man, he said, ‘Attack!’ An’ right there was where Charlie Reynolds come in.

“He says that th’ Injun village was a decoy; that he c’d tell by th’ stuff, th’ buffalo robes an’ all, that was layin’ ’round; that there was eight thousand fightin’ Injuns in that part of th’ country, an’ that it was a safe bet that seven thousand nine hundred an’ ninety-nine was layin’ right in behind them hog-backs—­low hills—­a-waitin’ for us.

“But th’ Old Man was mad.  He was out t’ do somethin’ an’ he was a-goin’ t’ do it.  An’ he says, ‘You’re all wrong, but we’re goin’ t’ attack, anyhow.’

“An’ Charlie he says somethin’, an’ walks away, an’ I seen th’ Old Man starin’ an’ glarin’, an’ I says t’ m’self, ‘When we git back t’ th’ Fort it’s a court-martial for Charlie, sure.’  An’ then it all happened.

“Boots an’ saddles, an’ we that was so all-in we c’d just stretch out an’ groan with tiredness, was up an’ on th’ move.  My hoss, Long Tom,—­an’ he was as game a animal as ever lived,—­just wavered an’ swayed when I hit th’ saddle.  Gee, boys! we was sure an all-in bunch!

“Why did th’ Old Man do it?  How in thunder do I know?  He just done it.  I’m supposin’ he was sort o’ smartin’ under them stay-back orders he had, an’ such like, an’ just nachally cut th’ cable; same as Admiral Dewey done at Manila Bay, only Dewey, he won out, an’ our Old Man—­well, that’s th’ story.