was assuring me that I was now to see some drill such as the Shoshones alone could execute. He waved his hands; the line spread out as skirmishers and took about two yards' interval from knee to knee. Then somebody—"Washakie" or one of his lieutenants—yelled a command in a shrill treble; that's all I remember. The ponies broke into one frantic rush for camp, riding over sage-brush, rocks, stumps, bunches of grass, buffalo heads—it mattered not the least what, they went over it—the warriors all the while squealing, yelling, chanting their war-songs, or howling like coyotes. The ponies entered into the whole business, and needed not the heels and "quirts" which were plied against their willing flanks. In the centre of the line rode old "Washakie;" abreast of him the eagle standard. It was an exciting and exhilarating race, and the force preserved an excellent alignment. Only one thought occupied my mind during this charge, and that thought was what fools we were not to incorporate these nomads—the finest light cavalry in the world—into our permanent military force. With five thousand such men, and our aboriginal population would readily furnish that number, we could harass and annoy any troops that might have the audacity to land on our coasts, and worry them to death.
General Crook attempted to open communication with General Terry by sending out a miner named Kelly, who was to strike for the head of the Little Big Horn, follow that down until it proved navigable, then make a raft or support for himself of cottonwood or willow saplings and float by night to the confluence of the Big Horn and the Yellowstone, and down the latter to wherever Terry's camp might be. Kelly made two attempts to start, but was each time driven or frightened back; but the third time got off in safety and made the perilous journey, and very much in the lines laid down in his talk with Crook.
Violent storms of snow, hail, and cold rain, with tempests of wind, prevailed upon the summits of the range, which was frequently hidden from our gaze by lowering masses of inky vapor. Curious effects, not strictly meteorological, were noticed; our camp was visited by clouds of flies from the pine forests, which deposited their eggs upon everything; the heat of the sun was tempered by a gauze veil which inspection showed to be a myriad of grasshoppers seeking fresh fields of devastation. Possibly the burning over of hundreds of square miles of pasturage
