fellows out." The sun is hardly peeping over the jagged outline of the
eastern hills when, with Rayner's entire battalion aboard, she is
steaming again down-stream, with orders to land at the mouth of the
Sweet Root. There the four companies will disembark in readiness to join
the rest of the regiment.

All day long again the wagon-train twists and wriggles through an ashen
section of Les Mauvaises Terres. It is a tedious, trying march for
Hull's little command of troopers,--all that is now left to guard the
train. The captain is constantly out on the exposed flank, eagerly
scanning the rough country to the south, and expectant any moment of an
attack from that direction. He and his men, as well as the horses,
mules, and teamsters, are fairly tired out when at nightfall they park
the wagons in a big semicircle, with the broad river forming a shining
chord to the arc of white canvas. All the live-stock are safely herded
within the enclosure; a few reliable soldiers are posted well out to the
south and east, to guard against surprise, and the veteran Sergeant
Clancy is put in command of the sentries. The captain gives strict
injunctions as to the importance of these duties; for he is far from
easy in his mind over the situation. The Riflers, he knows, are over in
the valley of the Sweet Root. The steamer with Rayner's men is tied up
at the bank some five miles below, around the bend. The ----th are far
off to the northward across the Elk, as ordered, and must be expecting
on the morrow to make for the old Indian "ferry" opposite Battle Butte.
The main body of the Sioux are reported farther down stream, but he
feels it in his bones that there are numbers of them within signal, and
he wishes with all his heart the ----th were here. Still, the general
was sure he would stir up war-parties on the other shore. Individually,
he has had very little luck in scouting during the summer, and he cannot
help wishing he were with the rest of the crowd instead of here,