We were just about to have a little drink for two when
into camp rode young Lathrop, the reporter for the Associated Press to
whom we had given the name of Death Rattler. Death Rattler appeared to
have scented the whisky from afar, for he had no visible errand with
us. We were glad to have him, however, as he was a good fellow, and
certainly knew how to appreciate a drink.
For two or three days the command pushed on, but we did not seem to
gain much on the Indians. They apparently knew exactly where we were
and how fast we were going, and they moved just as fast as we did.
On the fourth day of our pursuit I rode about ten miles ahead of the
command till I came to a hill which gave a fine view of the surrounding
country. Mounting this, I searched the hills with my field-glasses.
Soon I saw a great column of smoke rising about ten miles down the
creek. As this cloud drifted aside in the keen wind, I could see a
column of men marching beneath it. These I at first believed to be the
Indians we were after, but closer study revealed them as General
Terry's soldiers.
I forthwith dispatched a scout who was with me to take this news to
Crook. But he had no more than gone when I discovered a band of Indians
on the opposite side of the creek and another party of them directly in
front of me. For a few minutes I fancied that I had made a mistake, and
that the men I had seen under the dust were really Indians after all.
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