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Molly McDonald - A Tale of the Old Frontier by Randall Parrish
page 285 of 309 (92%)
Injuns thar, er tharabouts. Now I know Black Kettle's outfit is down
on the Washita, so the only conclusion is that this yere band thet the
Sergeant stirred up is some new tribe er other, a-driftin' down frum
the north. I reckon if we ride up ther valley we 'll hit their trail,
an' it 'll lead straight down to them Cheyennes."

Custer took time to consider this explanation, spreading the field map
out on his knees, and measuring the distance between the streams. No
one in the little group spoke, although several leaned forward eagerly.
The chief was not a man to ask advice; he preferred to decide for
himself. Suddenly he straightened up and threw back his head to look
about.

"In my judgment Corbin is right, gentlemen," he said impetuously. "I
had intended crossing here, but instead we will go further up stream.
There is doubtless a ford near Buffalo Creek, and if we can strike an
Indian trail leading to the Washita, we can follow easily by night, or
day, and it is bound to terminate at Black Kettle's camp. Return to
your troops, and be ready to march at daybreak. Major Elliott, you
will take the advance again, at least three hours ahead of the main
column. Move with caution, your flankers well out; both Hamlin and
Corbin will go with you. Are there any questions?"

"Full field equipment?" asked a voice.

"Certainly, although in case of going into action the overcoats will be
discarded. Look over your ammunition carefully to-night."

They filed out of the tent one by one, some of the older officers
pausing a moment to speak with Hamlin, his own captain extending his
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