defeat, and their minds were burning for revenge. I sent forward fifty spies, and moved cautiously on with the main body. My reputation was committed to my present success, and I took more than ordinary pains to vindicate the cause they had intrusted to my care. Every man was well armed and mounted, and I had full confidence in our ability to give a good account of double our number.
My command were very curious to learn my tactics. On one occasion, when they were completely harassing me with endless inquiries respecting my plan of attack, I told them, if they would bring me a silver-gray fox, unhurt, my medicine would be complete, and that we were sure of a great victory. In a moment they left me, and shortly returned with a live fox, which they had caught in a surround. I ordered them to choke it to death, and then flay it: it was done, and the beautiful skin was handed to me. I wrapped it round my medicine bow, and made a brief speech, informing them that the cunning of the fox had descended upon my head, and that my wiles would infallibly circumvent the enemy. Like another Alexander, I thus inspired confidence in the breasts of my soldiers, and the spirit I was infusing in others partly communicated itself to my own breast.
Some of the spies now returned and informed me that they had discovered a village of Cheyennes containing thirty-seven lodges.
"Well," said I, after learning where it was, "now return and watch them strictly; if anything happens, acquaint me with it promptly."
Away they went, but soon returned again to report that the enemy had moved down the creek (which was then called Antelope Creek, a small tributary of the Missouri), had passed through the cañon, and were encamped at its mouth. I ordered them to send in all the spies except ten, and to direct those ten to keep a sharp look-out. I then determined to follow them down the cañon and attack them at the mouth, thus cutting off their retreat into the cañon; but again I was informed that the enemy had moved farther down, and had encamped in the edge of the timber, with the evident intention of remaining there.
