"I will talk with you at some future time, Sergeant," Custer said at
last, resuming his seat on a log. "Now we shall have to consider the
to-morrow's march. Were you within sight of Black Kettle's camp?"

"No, sir; only of his pony herd out in the valley of the Canadian."

"Where would you suppose the camp situated?"

"Above, behind the bluffs, about the mouth of Buffalo Creek."

Custer drew the map toward him, scrutinizing it carefully.

"You may be right, of course," he commented, his glance on the faces of
the officers, "but this does not agree with the understanding at Camp
Supply, nor the report of our Indian scouts. We supposed Black Kettle
to be farther south on the Washita. How large was the pony herd?"

"We were not near enough to count the animals, sir, but there must have
been two hundred head."

"A large party then, at least. What do you say, Corbin?"

The scout addressed, conspicuous in his buffalo skin coat, leaned
against the tent-pole, his black whiskers moving industriously as he
chewed.

"Wal, Gineral," he said slowly, "I know this yere 'Brick' Hamlin, an'
he 's a right smart plainsman, sojer 'er no sojer. If he says he saw
thet pony herd, then he sure did. Thet means a considerable bunch o'