ss waves the prairie rolls to the horizon, beyond which
lies the shallow river where the transports are toiling up-stream with
comrade soldiery. Behind the column, eastward, dip the sheltered valleys
of the Rosebud and the breaks of the Tongue among the Cheetish
Mountains; and there, not fifty miles away as the crow flies, the
soldiers of the Gray Fox, over two thousand strong, are camped, awaiting
reinforcements before renewing the attempt to advance upon these lurking
bands of Sitting Bull. Not two days' march away, on both flanks, are
four times his numbers in friends and allies; not two miles away, in his
front, are ten times his force in foemen, savage, but skilled; yet all
alone and unsupported, the Long Hair rides dauntlessly to the attack,
even though he and his well know it must be battle to the death, for
Indian warfare knows no mercy.

There be those who say the assault was rash; the speed unauthorized; the
whole effort mad as Lucan's launch of the Light Brigade at Balaclava;
but once there in view of the fatal valley, the sight is one to fire the
brain of any trooper. Galloping to a little mound to the right front,
the broad expanse lies before the leader's eyes, and far as he can see,
out to the west and northwest, the dust-cloud rises heavily over the
prairie; here and there, nearer at hand, are the scurrying ponies and,
close down by the stream, excited bands of Indians tearing down lodge
after lodge and preparing for rapid flight. But one conclusion can he
draw. They are panic-stricken, stampeded. They are "on the run" already,
and unless attacked at once can never be overhauled. They will scatter
over the face of the wild Northwest in an hour's time. He cannot see
what we know so well to-day: that only the northern limits of the great
villages are open to his gaze; that the sheltering bluffs hide from him
all the crowded lodges of the bands farthest to the south, and that
while squaws and children are indeed being hurried off to the west,
hundreds, thousands of exultant young warriors are galloping in from the
western prairies, herding the war-ponies before them. He cannot see the
scores that, rifle in hand, are rushing into the willows and cottonwoods
along the stream, eager and ready to welcome his coming; he sends
hurried orders to the leaders of the little columns on his left: "Push
ahead; cross the stream; gallop northward when you reach the western
bank, and attack that end of the village while I s