Halting a moment for rest under shelter of the river bank, Custer
hastily wrote his report and sent for Hamlin. The latter approached
and stood motionless in the red glare of the single camp-fire. The
impetuous commander glanced up inquiringly.

"Sergeant, I must send a messenger to Camp Supply. Are you fit to go?"

"As much so as any one, General Custer," was the quiet response. "I
have no wounds of consequence."

"Very well. Take the freshest horse in the command, and an Osage
guide. You know the country, but he will be of assistance. I have
written a very brief report; you are to tell Sheridan personally the
entire story. We shall rest here two hours, and then proceed slowly
along the trail. I anticipate no further serious fighting. You will
depart at once."

"Very well, sir," the Sergeant saluted, and turned away, halting an
instant to ask, "You have reported the losses, I presume?"

"Yes, the dead and wounded. There are some missing, who may yet come
in. Major Elliott and fourteen others are still unaccounted for." He
paused. "By the way, Sergeant, while you are with Sheridan, explain to
him who you are--he may have news for you. Good-night, and good luck."

He stood up and held out his hand. In surprise, his eyes suddenly
filling with tears, Hamlin felt the grip of his fingers. Then he
turned, unable to articulate a sentence, and strode away into the night.