d a
guide to pilot him to Fort Larned, sixty-five miles distant.

When Custer learned that I was at the Post he asked that I be assigned
to duty with him. I reported to him at daylight the next day--none too
early, as Custer, with his staff and orderlies, was already in the
saddle. When I was introduced to Custer he glanced disapprovingly at
the mule I was riding.

"I am glad to meet you, Cody," he said. "General Sherman has told me
about you. But I am in a hurry, and I am sorry to see you riding that
mule."

"General," I returned, "that is one of the best horses at the fort."

"It isn't a horse at all," he said, "but if it's the best you've got we
shall have to start."

We rode side by side as we left the fort. My mule had a fast walk,
which kept the general's horse most of the time in a half-trot.

His animal was a fine Kentucky thoroughbred, but for the kind of work
at hand I had full confidence in my mount. Whenever Custer was not
looking I slyly spurred the mule ahead, and when he would start forward
I would rein him in and pat him by way of restraint, bidding him not to
be too fractious, as we hadn't yet reached the sandhills. In this way I
set a good lively pace--something like nine miles an hour--all morning.

At Smoky Hill River we rested our animals. Then the general, who was
impatient to be off, ordered a fresh start. I told him we had still
forty miles of sandhills to cross, and advised an easier gait.

"I have no time to waste on the road," he said. "I want to push right
ahead."

Push right ahead we did. I continued quietly spurring my mule and then
counseling the brute to take it easy. Presently I noticed that the
escort was stringing out far behind, as their horses became winded with
the hard pace through the sand. Custer, looking back, noticed the same
thing.

"I think we are setting too fast a pace for them, Cody," he said, but
when I replied that I thought this was merely the usual pace for my
mule and that I supposed he was in a hurry he made no further comment.

Several times during the next forty miles we had to stop to wait for
the escort to close up. Their horses, sweating and panting, had reached
almost the limit of their endurance. I continued patting my animal and
ordering him to quiet down, and Custer at length said:

"You seem to be putting it over me a little today."

When we reached a high ridge overlooking Pawnee Fork we again waited
for our lagging escort. As we waited I s