ith, if it did not wholly spoil, many of his
cherished plans.

Fort Laramie lay about one hundred miles north of Cheyenne, and Sergeant
Wells had come down with the paymaster's escort a few days before,
bringing Ralph's pet, his beautiful little Kentucky sorrel "Buford," and
now the boy and his faithful friend, the sergeant, were visiting at Fort
Russell, and waiting for a safe opportunity to start for home.

Presently, as they chatted in low tones so as not to disturb the little
sleeper, there came the sound of rapid hoof-beats, and Sergeant Wells
cantered into the enclosure and, riding up to the carriage, said to
Ralph,--

"I found him, sir, all safe; but their wagon was being patched up, and
he could not leave. He is so thankful to Mrs. Henry for her kindness,
and begs to know if she would mind bringing Jessie out to the fort. The
men are trying very hard to persuade him not to start for the Chug in
the morning."

"Why not, sergeant?"

"Because the telegraph despatches from Laramie say there must be a
thousand Indians gone out from the reservation in the last two days.
They've cut the wires up to Red Cloud, and no more news can reach us."

Ralph's face grew very pale.

"Father is right in the midst of them, with only fifty men!"

CHAPTER II.

CAVALRY ON THE MARCH.

It was a lovely June morning when the Fifth Cavalry started on its
march. Camp was struck at daybreak, and soon after five o'clock, while
the sun was still low in the east and the dew-drops were sparkling on
the buffalo grass, the long column was winding up the bare, rolling
"divide" which lay between the valleys of Crow and Lodge Pole Creeks. In
plain view, only thirty miles away to the west, were the summits of the
Rocky Mountains, but such is the altitude of this upland prairie,
sloping away eastward between the two forks of the Platte River, that
these summits appear to be nothing more than a low range of hills
shutting off the western horizon.

Looking southward from the Laramie road, all the year round one can see
the great peaks of the range--Long's and Hahn's and Pike's--glistening
in their mantles of snow, and down there near them, in Colorado, the
mountains slope abruptly into the Valley of the South Platte.

Up here in Wyoming the Rockies go rolling and billowing far out to the
east, and the entire stretch of country, from what are called the "Black
Hills of Wyoming," in contradistinction to the Black Hills of Dakota,
far