“Whar wus thet pony herd?”

Hamlin pointed up the valley to the place where the swerve came in the stream.

“Just below that point; do you see where the wind has swept the ground bare?”

“Sure they were n’t buffalo?”

“They were ponies all right, and herded.”

The two men spurred back across the hills, and made report to Elliott.  There was no hesitancy in that officer.  The leading squadron was instantly swung into formation as skirmishers, and sent forward.  From river-bank to crest of bluff they ploughed through the drifts, overcoats strapped behind and carbines flung forward in readiness for action, but as they climbed to that topmost ridge, eager, expectant, it was only to gaze down upon a deserted camp, trampled snow, and blackened embers of numerous fires.  Hamlin was the first to scramble down the steep bluff, dismount, and drag his trembling horse sliding after.  Behind plunged Corbin and Elliott, anxious to read the signs, to open the pages of this wilderness book.  A glance here and there, a testing of the blackened embers, a few steps along the broad trail, and these plainsmen knew the story.  The Major straightened up, his hand on his horse’s neck, his eyes sweeping those barren plains to the southward, and then turned to where his troopers were swarming down the bluff.

“Corbin,” he said sharply, “ride back to General Custer at top speed.  Tell him we have discovered a Cheyenne camp here at the mouth of Buffalo Creek of not less than a hundred and fifty warriors, deserted, and not to exceed twenty-four horses.  Their trail leads south toward the Washita.  Report that we shall cross the river in pursuit at once, and keep on cautiously until dark.  Take a man with you; no, not Sergeant Hamlin, I shall need him here.”

The scout was off like a shot, riding straight down the valley, a trooper pounding along behind him.  Major Elliott ran his eyes over the little bunch of cavalrymen.

“Captain Sparling, send two of your men to test the depth or water there where those Indians crossed.  As soon as ascertained we will ford the river.”

CHAPTER XXXVI

READY TO ATTACK

There was a ford but it was rocky and dangerous, and so narrow that horse after horse slipped aside into the swift current, bearing his rider with him into the icy water.  Comrades hauled the unfortunate ones forth, and fires were hastily built under shelter of the south bank.  Those who reached the landing dry shared their extra clothing with those water-soaked, and hot coffee was hastily served to all alike.  Eager as the men were to push forward, more than an hour was lost in passage, for the stream was bank full, the current rapid and littered with quantities of floating ice.  Some of these ice cakes startled the struggling horses and inflicted painful wounds, and it was only by a free use of ropes and lariats that the entire command finally succeeded in attaining the southern shore.  Shivering with the cold, the troopers again found their saddles and pressed grimly forward on the trail.  Hamlin, with five others, led the way along a beaten track which had been trampled by the passing herd of Indian ponies and plainly marked by the trailing poles of numerous wicky-ups.