er could be obtained in
plenty, and to this point I decided to move. The place was named
Camp Sill-now Fort Sill--in honor of my classmate, General Sill,
killed at Stone River; and to make sure of the surrendered Indians, I
required them all, Kiowas, Comanches, and Comanche-Apaches, to
accompany us to the new post, so they could be kept under military
control till they were settled.

During the march to the new camp the weather was not so cold as that
experienced in coming down from Camp Supply; still, rains were
frequent, and each was invariably followed by a depression of
temperature and high winds, very destructive to our animals, much
weakened by lack of food. The men fared pretty well, however, for on
the rough march along the Washita, and during our stay at Fort Cobb,
they had learned to protect themselves materially from the cold. For
this they had contrived many devices, the favorite means being
dugouts--that is, pits dug in the ground, and roofed over, with
shelter-tents, and having at one end a fire-place and chimney
ingeniously constructed with sod. In these they lived very snugly
--four men in each--and would often amuse themselves by poking their
heads out and barking at the occupants of adjacent huts in imitation
of the prairie-dog, whose comfortable nests had probably suggested
the idea of dugouts. The men were much better off, in fact, than
many of the officers, for the high winds frequently made havoc with
our wall-tents. The horses and mules suffered most of all. They
could not be sheltered, and having neither grain nor grass, the poor
beasts were in no condition to stand the chilling blasts. Still, by
cutting down cottonwood-trees, and letting the animals browse on the
small soft branches, we managed to keep them up till, finally even
this wretched food beginning to grow scarce, I had all except a few
of the strongest sent to Fort Arbuckle, near which place we had been
able, fortunately, to purchase some fields of corn from the
half-civilized Chickasaws and Choctaws.

Through mismanagement, as previously noted, the greater part of the
supplies which I had ordered hauled to Arbuckle the preceding fall
had not got farther on the way than Fort Gibson, which post was about
four hundred miles off, and the road abominable, particularly east of
Arbuckle, where it ran through a low region called "boggy bottom."
All along this route were abandoned wagons, left sticking in the mud,
and hence the tran