and swords thrust securely under saddle flaps. Like a body of spectres
they moved silently across the snow in the moonlight, cavalry capes
drawn over their heads, the only sound the crunching of horses' hoofs
breaking through the crust.

The trail was as distinct as a road, and the guides pushed ahead as
rapidly as by daylight, yet with ever increasing caution. Suddenly one
of the Osages signalled for a halt, averring that he smelled fire. The
scouts dismounted and crept forward, discovering a small campfire,
deserted but still smouldering, in a strip of timber. Careful
examination made it certain that this fire must have been kindled by
Indian boys, herding ponies during the day, and probably meant that the
village was very close at hand. The Osage guides and the two white
scouts again picked up the trail, the cavalry advancing slowly some
distance behind. Custer, accompanied by Hamlin, rode a yard to the
rear and joined the scouts, who were cautiously feeling their way up a
slight declivity.

The Osage in advance crept through the snow to the crest of the ridge
and looked carefully down into the valley below. Instantly his hand
went up in a gesture of caution and he hurriedly made his cautious way
back to where Custer sat his horse waiting.

"What is it? What did you see?"

"Heap Injuns down there!"

The General swung down from his saddle, motioned the Sergeant to
follow, and the two men crept to the crest and looked over. The dim
moonlight was confusing, while the shadow of timber rendered everything