CHAPTER XV.
MOVING INTO THE BIG HORN COUNTRY IN WINTER—THE HERD STAMPEDED—A NIGHT ATTACK—“JEFF’S” OOZING COURAGE—THE GRAVE-YARD AT OLD FORT RENO—IN A MONTANA BLIZZARD—THE MERCURY FROZEN IN THE BULB—KILLING BUFFALO—INDIAN GRAVES—HOW CROOK LOOKED WHILE ON THIS CAMPAIGN—FINDING A DEAD INDIAN’S ARM—INDIAN PICTURES.
The march from Fort Fetterman to old Fort Reno, a distance of ninety miles, led us through a country of which the less said the better; it is suited for grazing and may appeal to the eyes of a cow-boy, but for the ordinary observer, especially during the winter season, it presents nothing to charm any sense; the landscape is monotonous and uninviting, and the vision is bounded by swell after swell of rolling prairie, yellow with a thick growth of winter-killed buffalo or bunch grass, with a liberal sprinkling of that most uninteresting of all vegetation—the sage-brush. The water is uniformly and consistently bad—being both brackish and alkaline, and when it freezes into ice the ice is nearly always rotten and dangerous, for a passage at least by mounted troops or wagons. Wood is not to be had for the first fifty miles, and has to be carried along in wagons for commands of any size. Across this charming expanse the wind howled and did its best to freeze us all to death, but we were too well prepared.
The first night out from Fetterman the presence of hostile Indians was indicated by the wounding of our herder, shot in the lungs, and by the stampeding of our herd of cattle—forty-five head—which were not, however, run off by the attacking party, but headed for the post and could not be turned and brought back. There was very little to record of this part of the march: a night attack or two, the firing by our pickets at anything and everything which looked like a man, the killing ofseveral buffaloes by the guides in front—old bulls which would pull all the teeth out of one’s head were they to be chewed; better success with antelope, whose meat was tender and palatable; the sight of a column of dust in the remote distance, occasioned, probably, by the movement of an Indian village, and the flashing of looking-glass signals by hostiles on our right flank, made the sum total of events worthy of insertion in the journals kept at the time. Lodge-pole trails and pony tracks increased in numbers, and a signal smoke curled upwards from one of the distant buttes in our front. On our left, the snow-clad masses of the “Big Horn” range rose slowly above the horizon, and on the right the sullen, inhospitable outline of the “Pumpkin Buttes.” General Crook ordered that the greatest care should be taken in the manner of posting sentinels, and in enjoining vigilance upon them; he directed that no attempt should be made to catch any of the small parties of the enemy’s videttes, which began to show themselves and to retreat when followed; he explained that all they wanted was to entice us into a pursuit which could have no effect beyond breaking down twenty or thirty of our horses each time.
We were out of camp, and following the old Montana road by daylight of the 5th of March, 1876, going down the “Dry Fork” of the Powder. There was no delay on any account, and affairs began to move like clock-work. The scenery was dreary; the weather bitter cold; the bluffs on either side bare and sombre prominences of yellow clay, slate, and sandstone. The leaden sky overhead promised no respite from the storm of cold snow and wind beating into our faces from the northwest. A stranger would not have suspected at first glance that the command passing along the defile of this miserable little sand-bed had any connection with the military organization of the United States; shrouded from head to foot in huge wrappings of wool and fur, what small amount of uniform officers or men wore was almost entirely concealed from sight; but a keener inspection would have convinced the observer that it was an expedition of soldiers, and good ones at that. The promptness, ease, and lack of noise with which all evolutions were performed, the compactness of the columns, the good condition of arms and horses, and the care displayed in looking after the trains, betokened the discipline of veteran soldiery.
That evening a party of picked scouts, under Frank Gruard, was sent to scour the country in our front and on our right flank; there was no need of examining the country on the left, as the Big Horn range was so close, and there was no likelihood of the savages going up on its cold flanks to live during winter while such better and more comfortable localities were at hand in the river and creek bottoms. The sun was just descending behind the summits of the Big Horn, having emerged from behind a bank of leaden clouds long enough to assure us that he was still in existence, and Major Coates was putting his pickets in position and giving them their final instructions, when a bold attack was made by a small detachment of the Sioux; their advance was detected as they were creeping upon us through a grove of cottonwoods close to camp, and although there was a brisk interchange of leaden compliments, no damage was done to our people beyond the wounding slightly of Corporal Slavey, of Coates’s company. Crook ordered a large force to march promptly to the other side of camp, thinking that the enemy was merely making a “bluff” on one extremity, but would select a few bold warriors to rush through at the other end, and, by waving blankets, shrieking, firing guns, and all other tricks of that sort, stampede our stock and set us afoot. The entire command kept under arms for half an hour and was then withdrawn. From this on we had the companies formed each morning at daybreak, ready for the attack which might come at any moment. The early hour set for breaking camp no doubt operated to frustrate plans of doing damage to the column entertained by wandering bodies of the Sioux and Cheyennes.
Colonel Stanton was accompanied by a colored cook, Mr. Jefferson Clark, a faithful henchman who had followed the fortunes of his chief for many years. Jeff wasn’t a bad cook, and he was, according to his own story, one of the most bloodthirsty enemies the Sioux ever had; it was a matter of difficulty to restrain him from leaving the command and wandering out alone in quest of aboriginal blood. This night-attack seemed to freeze all the fight out of Jeff, and he never again expressed the remotest desire to shoot anything, not even a jack-rabbit. But the soldiers had no end of fun with him, and many and many a trick was played, and many and many a lie told, to make his hair stiffen, and his eyes to glaze in terror.
When we reached the “Crazy Woman’s Fork” of the Powder River, camp was established, with an abundance of excellent water and any amount of dry cottonwood fuel; but grass was not very plentiful, although there had been a steady improvement in that respect ever since leaving the South Cheyenne. We had that day passed through the ruins of old Fort Reno, one of the military cantonments abandoned by the Government at the demand of the Sioux in 1867. Nothing remained except a few chimneys, a part of the bake-house, and some fragments of the adobe walls of the quarters or offices. The grave-yard had a half dozen or a dozen of broken, dilapidated head-boards to mark the last resting-places of brave soldiers who had fallen in desperate wars with savage tribes that civilization might extend her boundaries. Our wagon-train was sent back under escort of the infantry to Fort Reno, there to await our return.
All the officers were summoned to hear from General Crook’s own lips what he wanted them to do. He said that we should now leave our wagons behind and strike out with the pack-trains; all superfluous baggage must be left in camp; every officer and every soldier should be allowed the clothes on his back and no more; for bedding each soldier could carry along one buffalo robe or two blankets; to economize transportation, company officers should mess with their men, and staff officers or those “unattached” with the pack-trains; officers to have the same amount of bedding as the men; each man could take one piece of shelter tent, and each officer one piece of canvas, or every two officers one tent fly. We were to start out on a trip to last fifteen days unless the enemy should be sooner found, and were to take along half rations of bacon, hard tack, coffee, and sugar.
About seven o’clock on the night of March 7, 1876, the light of a three-quarters moon, we began our march to the north and west, and made thirty-five miles. At first the country had the undulating contour of that near old Fort Reno, but the prairie “swells” were soon superseded by bluffs of bolder and bolder outline until, as we approached the summit of the “divide” where “Clear Fork” heads, we found ourselves in a region deserving the title mountainous. In the bright light of the moon and stars, our column of cavalry wound up the steep hill-sides like an enormous snake, whose scales were glittering revolvers and carbines. The view was certainly very exhilarating,backed as it was by the majestic landscape of moonlight on the Big Horn Mountains. Cynthia’s silvery beams never lit up a mass of mountain crests more worthy of delineation upon an artist’s canvas. Above the frozen apex of “Cloud Peak” the evening star cast its declining rays. Other prominences rivalling this one in altitude thrust themselves out against the midnight sky. Exclamations of admiration and surprise were extorted from the most stolid as the horses rapidly passed from bluff to bluff, pausing at times to give every one an opportunity to study some of Nature’s noble handiwork.
But at last even the gorgeous vista failed to alleviate the cold and pain in benumbed limbs, or to dispel the drowsiness which Morpheus was placing upon exhausted eyelids. With no small degree of satisfaction we noticed the signal which at five o’clock in the morning of March 8th bade us make camp on the Clear Fork of the Powder. The site was dreary enough; scarcely any timber in sight, plenty of water, but frozen solid, and only a bare picking of grass for our tired animals. However, what we most needed was sleep, and that we sought as soon as horses had been unsaddled and mules unpacked. Wrapped up in our heavy overcoats and furs we threw ourselves on the bleak and frozen ground, and were soon deep in slumber. After lying down in the bright, calm, and cheerful moonlight, we were awakened about eight o’clock by a bitter, pelting storm of snow which blew in our teeth whichever way we turned, and almost extinguished the petty fires near which the cooks were trying to arrange breakfast, if we may dignify by such a lofty title the frozen bacon, frozen beans, and frozen coffee which constituted the repast. It is no part of a soldier’s business to repine, but if there are circumstances to justify complaint they are the absence of warmth and good food after a wearisome night march and during the prevalence of a cold winter storm. After coffee had been swallowed General Crook moved the command down the “Clear Fork” five miles, to a pleasant cove where we remained all the rest of that day. Our situation was not enviable. It is true we experienced nothing we could call privation or hardship, but we had to endure much positive discomfort. The storm continued all day, the wind blowing with keenness and at intervals with much power. Being without tents, there was nothing to do but grin and bear it. Some of our people stretched blankets to thebranches of trees, others found a questionable shelter under the bluffs, one or two constructed nondescript habitations of twigs and grass, while General Crook and Colonel Stanton seized upon the abandoned den of a family of beavers which a sudden change in the bed of the stream had deprived of their home. To obtain water for men and animals holes were cut in the ice, which was by actual measurement eighteen inches thick, clear in color and vitreous in texture. We hugged the fires as closely as we dared, ashes and cinders being cast into our faces with every turn in the hurricane. The narrow thread of the stream, with its opaque and glassy surface of ice, covered with snow, here drifted into petty hillocks, here again carried away before the gale, looked the picture of all that could be imagined cheerless and drear. We tried hard to find pleasure in watching the trouble of our fellow-soldiers obliged for any reason to attempt a crossing of the treacherous surface. Commencing with an air of boldness and confidence—with some, even of indifference—a few steps forward would serve to intimidate the unfortunate wight, doubly timid now that he saw himself the butt of all gibes and jeers. Now one foot slips, now another, but still he struggles manfully on, and has almost gained the opposite bank, when—slap! bang! both feet go from under him, and a dint in the solid ice commemorates his inglorious fall. In watching such episodes we tried to dispel the wearisomeness of the day. Every one welcomed the advent of night, which enabled us to seek such rest as could be found, and, clad as we were last night, in the garments of the day, officers and men huddled close together to keep from freezing to death. Each officer and man had placed one of his blankets upon his horse, and, seeing that there was a grave necessity of doing something to prevent loss of life, General Crook ordered that as many blankets as could be spared from the pack-trains should be spread over the sleepers.
It snowed fiercely all night, and was still snowing and blustering savagely when we were aroused in the morning; but we pushed out over a high ridge which we took to be part of the chain laid down on the map as the “Wolf” or “Panther” mountains. The storm continued all day, and the fierce north wind still blew in our teeth, making us imagine old Boreas to be in league with the Indians to prevent our occupancy of the country. Mustaches and beards coated with pendent iciclesseveral inches long and bodies swathed in raiment of furs and hides made this expedition of cavalry resemble a long column of Santa Clauses on their way to the polar regions to lay in a new supply of Christmas gifts. We saw some very fresh buffalo manure and also some new Indian sign. Scouts were pushed ahead to scour the country while the command went into bivouac in a secluded ravine which afforded a sufficiency of water, cottonwood fuel, and good grass, and sheltered us from the observation of roving Indians, although the prevailing inclement weather rendered it highly improbable that many hunters or spies would be far away from their villages. The temperature became lower and lower, and the regular indications upon our thermometer after sundown were -6° and -10° of the Fahrenheit scale. Men and animals had not yet suffered owing to the good fortune in always finding ravines in which to bivouac, and where the vertical clay banks screened from the howling winds. The snow continued all through the night of the 9th and the day of the 10th of March, but we succeeded in making pretty good marches, following down the course of Prairie Dog Creek for twenty-two miles in the teeth of a blast which was laden with minute crystals of snow frozen to the sharpness of razors and cutting the skin wherever it touched. Prairie Dog Creek at first flows through a narrow gorge, but this widens into a flat valley filled with the burrows of the dainty little animals which give the stream its name and which could be seen in numbers during every lull in the storm running around in the snow to and from their holes and making tracks in every direction. Before seeing this I had been under the impression that the prairie dog hibernated.
While the severity of the weather had had but slight effect upon the command directly, the slippery trail, frozen like glass, imposed an unusual amount of hard labor upon both human and equine members, and it was only by the greatest exertion that serious accidents were averted in the crossing of the little ravines which intersected the trail every two or three hundred yards. One of the corporals of “D” Company, Third Cavalry, was internally injured, to what extent could not be told at the moment, by his horse falling upon him while walking by his side. A “travois” was made of two long saplings and a blanket, in which the sufferer was dragged along behind a mule. The detachment ofguides, sent out several nights previously, returned this evening, reporting having found a recently abandoned village of sixty “tepis,” and every indication of long habitancy. The Indians belonging thereto had plenty of meat—buffalo, deer, and elk—some of which was left behind upon departure. A young puppy, strangled to death, was found hanging to a tree. This is one of the greatest delicacies of every well-regulated Sioux feast—choked pup. It also figures in their sacrifices, especially all those in any manner connected with war. The guides had brought back with them a supply of venison, which was roasted on the embers and pronounced delicious by hungry palates. The storm abated during the night, and there were glimpses of the moon behind fleeting clouds, but the cold became much more intense, and we began to suffer. The next morning our thermometer failed to register. It did not mark below -22° Fahrenheit, and the mercury had passed down into the bulb and congealed into a solid button, showing that at least -39° had been reached. The wind, however, had gone down, for which we were all thankful. The sun shone out bright and clear, the frost on the grass glistened like diamonds, and our poor horses were coated with ice and snow.
We marched north eight or nine miles down the Tongue River, which had to be crossed six times on the ice. This was a fine stream, between thirty and forty yards wide, its banks thickly fringed with box-elder, cottonwood, and willow. Grama grass was abundant in the foot-hills close by, and in all respects except cold this was the finest camp yet made. The main command halted and bivouacked at this point, to enable the guides to explore to the west, to the Rosebud, and beyond. On the night of March 11th we had a lovely moonlight, but the cold was still hard to bear, and the mercury was again congealed. Fortunately no one was frozen, for which fact some credit is due to the precautions taken in the matter of clothing, and to the great care manifested by our medical officer, Surgeon Munn. The exemption of the command from frost-bite was not more remarkable than the total absence of all ailments of a pneumonitic type; thus far, there had not been a single instance of pneumonia, influenza, or even simple cold. I have no hesitancy in saying that the climate of Wyoming or Montana is better suited for invalids suffering from lung disorders, not of an aggravated nature, than is that of Florida; I have some personal acquaintancewith the two sections, and the above is my deliberate conviction.
Despite the hyperborean temperature, the genial good-humor and cheerfulness of the whole command was remarkable and deserving of honorable mention. Nothing tries the spirit and temper of the old veteran, not to mention the young recruit, as does campaigning under unusual climatic vicissitudes, at a time when no trace of the enemy is to be seen. To march into battle with banners flying, drums beating, and the pulse throbbing high with the promptings of honorable ambition and enthusiasm, in unison with the roar of artillery, does not call for half the nerve and determination that must be daily exercised to pursue mile after mile in such terrible weather, over rugged mountains and through unknown cañons, a foe whose habits of warfare are repugnant to every principle of humanity, and whose presence can be determined solely by the flash of the rifle which lays some poor sentry low, or the whoop and yell which stampede our stock from the grazing-grounds. The life of a soldier, in time of war, has scarcely a compensating feature; but he ordinarily expects palatable food whenever obtainable, and good warm quarters during the winter season. In campaigning against Indians, if anxious to gain success, he must lay aside every idea of good food and comfortable lodgings, and make up his mind to undergo with cheerfulness privations from which other soldiers would shrink back dismayed. His sole object should be to strike the enemy and to strike him hard, and this accomplished should be full compensation for all privations undergone. With all its disadvantages this system of Indian warfare is a grand school for the cavalrymen of the future, teaching them fortitude, vigilance, self-reliance, and dexterity, besides that instruction in handling, marching, feeding, and fighting troops which no school can impart in text-books.
This manner of theorizing upon the subject answered excellently well, except at breakfast, when it strained the nervous system immensely to admit that soldiers should under any circumstances be sent out on winter campaigns in this latitude. Our cook had first to chop with an axe the bacon which over night had frozen hard as marble; frequently the hatchet or axe was broken in the contest. Then if he had made any “soft bread,” that is, bread made of flour and baked in a frying-pan, he had to placethat before a strong fire for several minutes to thaw it so it could be eaten, and all the forks, spoons, and knives had to be run through hot water or hot ashes to prevent them from taking the skin off the tongue. The same rule had to be observed with the bits when our horses were bridled. I have seen loaves of bread divided into two zones—the one nearer the blazing fire soft and eatable, the other still frozen hard as flint and cold as charity. The same thing was to be noticed in the pans of beans and other food served up for consumption.
For several days we had similar experiences which need not be repeated. Our line of march still continued northward, going down the Tongue River, whose valley for a long distance narrowed to a little gorge bordered by bluffs of red and yellow sandstone, between one hundred and fifty and two hundred feet high—in some places much higher—well fringed with scrub pine and juniper. Coal measures of a quality not definitely determined cropped out in all parts of the country. By this time we were pretty far advanced across the borders of the Territory of Montana, and in a region well grassed with grama and the “black sage,” a plant almost as nutritious as oats. The land in the stream bottoms seemed to be adapted for cultivation. Again the scouts crossed over to the Rosebud, finding no signs of the hostiles, but bringing back the meat of two buffalo bulls which they had killed. This was a welcome addition to the food of men without fresh meat of any kind; our efforts to coax some of the fish in the stream to bite did not meet with success; the weather was too cold for them to come out of the deep pools in which they were passing the winter. The ice was not far from two feet in thickness, and the trout were torpid. The scouts could not explain why they had not been able to place the villages of the hostiles, and some of our people were beginning to believe that there were none out from the reservations, and that all had gone in upon hearing that the troops had moved out after them; in this view neither Frank Gruard, “Big Bat,” nor the others of the older heads concurred.
“We’ll find them pretty soon” was all that Frank would say. As we approached the Yellowstone we came upon abandoned villages, with the frame-work of branches upon which the squaws had been drying meat; one or two, or it may have been three, of these villages had been palisaded as a protection against the incursions of the Absaroka or Crows of Montana, who raided uponthe villages of the Sioux when the latter were not raiding upon theirs. Cottonwood by the hundreds of cords lay scattered about the villages, felled by the Sioux as a food for their ponies, which derive a small amount of nourishment from the inner bark. There were Indian graves in numbers: the corpse, wrapped in its best blankets and buffalo robes, was placed upon a scaffold in the branches of trees, and there allowed to dry and to decay. The cottonwood trees here attained a great size: four, five, and six feet in diameter; and all the conditions for making good camps were satisfied: the water was excellent, after the ice had been broken; a great sufficiency of succulent grass was to be found in the nooks sheltered from the wind; and as for wood, there was more than we could properly use in a generation. One of the cooks, by mistake, made a fire at the foot of a great hollow cottonwood stump; in a few moments the combustible interior was a mass of flame, which hissed and roared through that strange chimney until it had reached an apparent height of a hundred feet above the astonished packers seated at its base. Buffalo could be seen every day, and the meat appeared at every meal to the satisfaction of all, notwithstanding its stringiness and exceeding toughness, because we could hit nothing but the old bulls. A party of scouts was sent on in front to examine the country as far as the valley of the Yellowstone, the bluffs on whose northern bank were in plain sight.
There was a great and unexpected mildness of temperature for one or two days, and the thermometer indicated for several hours as high as 20° above zero, very warm in comparison with what we had had. General Crook and the half-breeds adopted a plan of making themselves comfortable which was generally imitated by their comrades. As soon as possible after coming into camp, they would sweep clear of snow the piece of ground upon which they intended making down their blankets for the night; a fire would next be built and allowed to burn fiercely for an hour, or as much longer as possible. When the embers had been brushed away and the canvas and blankets spread out, the warmth under the sleeper was astonishingly comfortable. Our pack-mules, too, showed an amazing amount of intelligence. I have alluded to the great trouble and danger experienced in getting them and our horses across the different “draws” or“coulées”impeding the march. The pack-mules, of their own motion,decided that they would get down without being a source of solicitude to those in charge of them; nothing was more amusing than to see some old patriarch of the train approach the glassy ramp leading to the bottom of the ravine, adjust his hind feet close together and slide in triumph with his load secure on his back. This came near raising a terrible row among the packers, who, in the absence of other topics of conversation, began to dispute concerning the amount of sense or “savey” exhibited by their respective pets. One cold afternoon it looked as if the enthusiastic champions of the respective claims of “Pinto Jim” and “Keno” would draw their knives on each other, but the affair quieted down without bloodshed. Only one mule had been injured during this kind of marching and sliding—one broke its back while descending an icy ravine leading to the “Clear Fork” of the Powder.
Not many moments were lost after getting into bivouac before all would be in what sailors call “ship shape.” Companies would take the positions assigned them, mounted vedettes would be at once thrown out on the nearest commanding hills, horses unsaddled and led to the grazing-grounds, mules unpacked and driven after, and wood and water collected in quantities for the cooks, whose enormous pots of beans and coffee would exhale a most tempting aroma. After eating dinner or supper, as you please, soldiers, packers, and officers would gather around the fires, and in groups discuss the happenings of the day and the probabilities of the future. The Spaniards have a proverb which may be translated—“A man with a good dinner inside of him looks upon the world through rosy spectacles”:
“Barriga llena,Corazon contento.”
“Barriga llena,Corazon contento.”
“Barriga llena,Corazon contento.”
“Barriga llena,
Corazon contento.”
There was less doubt expressed of our catching Indians; the evidences of their presence were too tangible to admit of any ambiguity, and all felt now that we should run in upon a party of considerable size unless they had all withdrawn to the north of the Yellowstone. These opinions were confirmed by the return of Frank Gruard with a fine young mule which had been left behind by the Sioux in one of the many villages occupied by them along this stream-bed; the animal was in fine condition, and its abandonment was very good proof of the abundance of stock with which the savages must be blessed.
This is how General Crook appeared on this occasion, as I find recorded in my notes: boots, of Government pattern, number 7; trousers, of brown corduroy, badly burned at the ends; shirt, of brown, heavy woollen; blouse, of the old army style; hat, a brown Kossuth of felt, ventilated at top. An old army overcoat, lined with red flannel, and provided with a high collar made of the skin of a wolf shot by the general himself, completed his costume, excepting a leather belt with forty or fifty copper cartridges, held to the shoulders by two leather straps. His horse and saddle were alike good, and with his rifle were well cared for.
The General in height was about six feet—even, perhaps, a trifle taller; weight, one hundred and seventy pounds; build, spare and straight; limbs, long and sinewy; complexion, nervo-sanguine; hair, light-brown; cheeks, ruddy, without being florid; features, delicately and firmly chiselled; eyes, blue-gray; nose, a pronounced Roman and quite large; mouth, mild but firm, and showing with the chin much resolution and tenacity of purpose.
As we halted for the night, a small covey of pin-tailed grouse flew across the trail. Crook, with seven shots of his rifle, laid six of them low, all but one hit in neck or head. This shooting was very good, considering the rapidity with which it had to be done, and also the fact that the shooter’s hands were numb from a long march in the saddle and in the cold. These birds figured in an appetizing stew at our next breakfast. We remained in bivouac for a day at the mouth of a little stream which we took to be Pumpkin Creek, but were not certain, the maps being unreliable; here was another abandoned village of the Sioux in which we came across a ghastly token of human habitancy, in the half-decomposed arm of an Indian, amputated at the elbow-joint, two fingers missing, and five buckshot fired into it. The guides conjectured that it was part of the anatomy of a Crow warrior who had been caught by the Sioux in some raid upon their herds and cut limb from limb.
The forest of cottonwoods at this place was very dense, and the trees of enormous size. Upon the inner bark of a number, the Sioux had delineated in colors many scenes which were not comprehensible to us. There were acres of fuel lying around us, and we made liberal use of the cottonwood ashes to boil a pot of hominy with corn from the pack train. Half a dozen old buffaloeswere seen close to camp during the day, one of which animals was shot by General Crook. When our guides returned from the Yellowstone, they brought with them the carcasses of six deer, five white-tailed and one black-tailed, which were most acceptable to the soldiers. All the trails seen by this reconnoitring party had led over towards the Powder River, none being found in the open valley of the Yellowstone. The Sioux and Cheyennes would naturally prefer to make their winter habitations in the deeper and therefore warmer cañons of the Rosebud, Tongue, and Powder, where the winds could not reach them and their stock. The country hereabouts was extremely rough, and the bluffs were in many places not less than seven hundred and fifty feet in height above the surface of the stream. It had again become cold and stormy, and snow was falling, with gusts of wind from the north. The mercury during the night indicated 10° below zero, but the sky with the coquetry of a witch had resumed its toilet of blue pinned with golden stars. Our course led north and east to look for some of the trails of recent date; the valleys of the creeks seemed to be adapted for agriculture, and our horses did very well on the rich herbage of the lower foothills. The mountains between the Tongue and the Powder, and those between the Tongue and the Rosebud as well, are covered with forests of pine and juniper, and the country resembles in not a little the beautiful Black Hills of Dakota.
This was the 16th of March, and we had not proceeded many miles before our advance, under Colonel Stanton, had sighted and pursued two young bucks who had been out hunting for game, and, seeing our column advancing, had stationed themselves upon the summit of a ridge, and were watching our movements. Crook ordered the command to halt and bivouac at that point on the creek which we had reached. Coffee was made for all hands, and then the purposes of the general commanding made themselves known. He wanted the young Indians to think that we were a column making its way down towards the Yellowstone with no intention of following their trail; then, with the setting of the sun, or a trifle sooner, we were to start out and march all night in the hope of striking the band to which the young men belonged, and which must be over on the Powder as there was no water nearer in quantity sufficient for ponies and families. The day had been very blustering and chilly, with snow clouds lowering over us.