t in the
timber of the South Cheyenne, then reappearing beyond, until far in the
southeast it dwindles in perspective to a mere thread, and so dips into
the valley of the War Bonnet and Indian Creek,--there lies the broad
road from the reservations to the war-path. It is the trail over which
for years the "Wards of the Nation" have borne the paid-up prices of
their good behavior to sustain their brethren renegados in the Powder
River Country far up here to the northwest. Over this road all winter
long, all the spring-tide, and to this very week in June, arms,
ammunition, ponies, bacon, flour, coffee, sugar, clothing, and warriors
have been speeding to the hosts of Sitting Bull. The United States is
sending to-day three or four thousand men at arms, equipped and supplied
by the Department of War, to try conclusions with about twice that
number of trained warriors similarly provided for by the Department of
the Interior. It is odd, but it is a fact. Camping along the banks of
the Rawhide, the first stream on the Indian side of the Platte, the
officer in command of the advance-guard of the --th was surprised to see
a train of wagons and without apparent escort. Galloping down to their
fires, he accosted the wagon-master, who smilingly assured him that he
and his train were in no danger from the Indians,--they were bringing
them supplies. What supplies? Why, metallic cartridges, of course,
Winchester and Henry, for their magazine-rifles, don't you know? Oh,
yes. He understood well enough that they were all going out on the
war-path, but he couldn't help _that_. He was paid so much a month to
haul supplies from Sidney to Red Cloud agency, and if it happened to be
powder and lead, 'tweren't none o' his business. How much had he? Oh,
three or four hundred thousand rounds, he reckoned. To whom consigned?
Why, the trader,--the Indian store at Red Cloud, of course,--Mr. ----'s.
In speechless indignation the officer rides off and reports the matter
to the colonel, and the colonel goes down and interviews the
imperturbable "boss" with similar result, and more; for he comes back
with a shrug of the shoulders and some honest blasphemy, for which may
Heaven forgive him. (The fine inflicted by army regulations has not yet
been collected.) "We can do nothing," he says. "That fellow has his
papers straight from the Interior Department. He has been hauling
cartridges all spring." And now, here is the advance-guard of the --th
again far up