We were to ride in the
pilot-house and keep a sharp look-out for Indians on both banks of the
river. The idea of scouting from a steamboat was to me an altogether
novel one, and I was immensely pleased at the prospect.
At daylight the next morning we reported on the steamer to General
Miles, who had with him four or five companies of his regiment. We were
somewhat surprised when he asked us why we had not brought our horses.
We were at a loss to see how we could employ horses in the pilothouse
of a river steamboat. He said that we might need them before we got
back, so we sent for them and had them brought on board.
In a few minutes we were looking down the river, the swift current
enabling the little steamer to make a speed of twenty miles an hour.
The commander of the _Far West_ was Captain Grant March, a fine chap of
whom I had often heard. For many years he was one of the most famous
swift-water river captains in the country. It was on his steamer that
the wounded from the battle of the Little Big Horn had been transported
to Fort Abraham Lincoln, on the Missouri River. On that trip he made
the fastest steamboat time on record. He was an excellent pilot, and
handled his boat in those swift and dangerous waters with remarkable
dexterity.
With Richard and me at our station in the pilothouse the little steamer
went flying down-stream past islands, around bends, and over sandbars
at a rate that was exhilarating, but sometimes a little disquieting to
men who had done most of their navigating on the deck of a Western
pony.
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