indistinct. Yet they were able to make out a herd of ponies,
distinguished the distant bark of a dog and the tinkle of a bell.
Without question this was the Indians' winter camp, and they had
reached it undiscovered. Custer glanced at his watch--the hour was
past midnight. He pressed Hamlin's sleeve, his lips close to the
Sergeant's ear.

"Creep back, and bring my officers up here," he whispered. "Have them
take off their sabres."

As they crept, one after the other, to where he lay in the snow, the
General, whose eyes had become accustomed to the moon-gleam, pointed
out the location of the village and such natural surroundings as could
be vaguely distinguished. The situation thus outlined in their minds,
they drew silently back from the crest, leaving there a single Osage
guide on guard, and returned to the waiting regiment, standing to horse
less than a mile distant. Custer's orders for immediate attack came
swiftly, and Hamlin, acting as his orderly, bore them to the several
commands. The entire force was slightly in excess of eight hundred
men, and there was every probability that the Indians outnumbered them
five to one. Scouts had reported to Sheridan that this camp of Black
Kettle's was the winter rendezvous not only of Cheyennes, but also of
bands of fighting Arapahoes, Kiowas, Comanches, and even some Apaches,
the most daring and desperate warriors of the plains. Yet this was no
time to hesitate, to debate; it was a moment for decisive action. The
blow must be struck at once, before daylight, with all the power of
surprise.

The little body of cavalrymen was divided into four detachments. Two
of these were at once marched to the left, circling the village