At the station in Chicago I was met with orders from General Sheridan
to continue straight ahead to Fort McPherson as quickly as possible.
The expedition was waiting for me.
At Omaha a party of my friends took me off the train and entertained me
until the departure of the next train. They had heard of my evening
clothes and insisted on my arraying myself therein for their benefit.
My trunk was taken to the Paxton Hotel and I put on the clawhammer and
all that went with it. About fifty of my Omaha friends accompanied me
to the train; in my silk hat and evening dress I was an imposing
spectacle. But I expected to change into my Plains clothes as soon as I
got into the car. However, these plans were sadly upset. Both my
friends and I had forgotten my trunk, which in the hour of my greatest
need was still reposing in a room in the Paxton Hotel, while in clothes
fit only for a banquet I was speeding over the Plains to a possible
Indian fight.
At Fort McPherson, my old friend, "Buffalo Chips," was waiting for me.
He had been left behind by General Reynolds to tell me to overtake the
command as soon as possible. He had brought out old Buckskin Joe for me
to ride.
The expedition was already well on its way north into the Loup country
and had camped at Pawnee Springs, about eight miles from McPherson
Station, the night before.
Poor old Buffalo Chips almost fell dead when he saw how I was dressed.
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