found lodge poles a-plenty on Black Pipe Creek, and the ashes of
many a little fire along Pass Creek and Bear-in-the-Lodge, and away to
the Yellow Medicine. They circled clear round the wild worshippers, it
seems, far west as the Wounded Knee, without ever encountering one; and
yet keeping them on the move had broken up their incantations, and, as
the major believed, had worn out their obstinate determination to
stick to their medicine-men and Messiahs whether the Great White Father
would have it or not.

For two days the column had followed, eastward now, the trail of a big
band, and just when Baptiste and Touch-the-Sky, interpreters, would
have it that the crazy chiefs and their followers had been fairly
headed off and balked of their purpose of joining Big Foot beyond the
Cheyenne, just when it seemed likely that another day would enable the
troops to overhaul them and herd them peaceably, if possible, forcibly,
if not, back to the sheltering wing of the agency and the Indian
police, lo, just at sunset, after a long day's march, a corporal had
come galloping, full cry, from the rear-guard, while the scouts were
still far out to the front: "The Indians are back of us at least six
miles, going like mad for the north!"

Then the major commanding said things that made his pilots' ears
tingle. It was all gospel truth. Finding themselves followed and being
steadily pressed onward toward the fort and the settlements, the
astute warriors had left a goodly sized party ambling along in front,
to lead the cavalry on; had dropped away all afternoon by twos and
threes as though looking for antelope or black tail, not northward
where the valley of the upper Chaduza was open and shallow and they
could be seen for miles, but southward among the breaks and ravines
where they were hidden entirely; had reassembled on a little branch to
the southwest and then, when the column was well out of sight, had
rushed for the north and the wild country so recently left; had forded
the Chaduza and by moonrise were doubtless safely camped for the night
on the south fork of White River. All the major could do was order his
men to the right-about, march to the crossing (another weary six miles
after the thirty-six of the day), and, with drooping horses and riders,
unsaddle, cook supper, and settle for the night, then send couriers to
the post in the morning.

And now morning had come and couriers had not yet gone, for an hour
before the first br