the ground would permit. The very clearness of the trail was evidence
that the Indians had no conception that they were being followed.
Confident of safety in their winter retreat, they were making no effort
to protect their rear, never dreaming there were soldiers within
hundreds of miles. Whatever report Dupont had made, it had awakened no
alarm. Why should it? So far as he knew there were but two men
pursuing him into the wilderness, and both of these he believed lying
dead in the snow.

Steadily, mile after mile, they rode, and it was after dark when the
little column was finally halted beside a stream, where they could
safely hide themselves in a patch of timber. Tiny fires were built
under protection of the steep banks of the creek, and the men made
coffee, and fed their hungry horses. The silence was profound. It was
a dark night, although the surrounding snow plains yielded a spectral
light. Major Elliott, drinking coffee and munching hard-tack with the
troop captain, sent for Sergeant Hamlin.

The latter advanced within the glow of the fire, and saluted.

"We have been gaining on those fellows, Sergeant," the Major began,
"and must be drawing close to the Washita."

"We are travelling faster than they did, sir," was the reply, "because
they had to break trail, and there were some women and children with
them. I have no knowledge of this region, but the creek empties into
the Washita without doubt."

"That would be my judgment. Sparling and I were just talking it over.
I shall wait here until Custer comes up; my force is too small to