Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1913-11-13

and disappeared. No word, no sound
had come back They could only wait
in faith on their comrades. The men
were dismounted, each holding his
own horse in instant readiness for &C
ton. Not few, wearied with the
days work, while still cIinging to their
brides, wrapped the capes OF their
overcoats over their heads and threw
themselves down in the snow. and fell
asleep.
At the first sight of dawn Hamlin
was sent down the line to arouse them.
Overcoats were taken off and strapped
to the saddles, carbines loaded and
slung, pistols examined and loosened
in their holsters saddles recinched.
and curb chains carefully looked after.
This was the work OF but a few mo-
ments, the hRlffrozen soldiers NOV
ing with an eagerness that sent the
hot blood coursing fiercely through
numbed limbs. To the whispered com
mand to mount, running from lip to
lip along the line, the men sprang
joyously into their saddles, their
quickened ears and eager eyes ready
for the signal.
Slowly, at a walk, Custer led them
forward toward the crest Of the hill.
where the Usage guide watched
through the spectral light of dawn
the doomed village beneath. To the
uplift of a hand the column halted,
and Custer and his bugler went for
ward. A step behind crouched tn
Sergeant, grasping the reins OF thre
horses, while little to the right, bS
yond the sweep of the coming charge,
waited the regimental band.
Peering over the crest, the leader
saw through the dim haze, scarcely
Eve hundred yards distant. dotting the
north bank of the Washita for more
than a quarter Of mile, the Indian
village. There was about it scarcely
sign of human life. From the top
Of tive or three of the tepees light
wreaths of smoke floated languidly
out on the wintry air, and beyond the
pony herd was restlessly moving.
Even as he gazed, half convinced that
the Indians had been warned, the VII
lage deserted, the sharp report Of
rife rang out in the distance.
Hamlin saw the General spring up
right, his lips utterfng the sharp com
mand, Sound the charge!" Even
while the piercing blare Of the bugle
cut the frosty air. there was a jingle
of steel as the troopers behind spurred
A ot kha tho
three dlsmounted men we're in saddle.
Custer waved his hand at the band.
shouted PLAY" and to the rollicking
air of Garry Owen" the eager col
umn of horsemen broke into a mad
gallop, and with ringing cheers and
mighty rush, swept over the ridge
straight down into the startled village.
To Hamlin, at Clusters side, reins in
his teeth, a revolver in either hand,
what followed was scarcely memory
T, remained afterward as a blurred,
indistinct picture of action. changing
SO rapidly as to leave no definite out
lines. He heard the answering call
Of three bugles; the deafening thpd
of horses hoofs; the convergins cheers
of excited troopers; the mingling ring
of revolver shots; a sharp order cleav-
ing the turmoil; the wild neigh Of
stricken horse; the cultural yells of
Indians leaping from their tepees into
the open. Then he was In the heart
of the village, firing with both hands;
before him, about him. half-naked saw
ages fighting desperately, striking at
him with knives, firing from the shell
ter OF tepees, springing at him with
naked hands in q fierce effort to drag
him from the saddle. It was all con-
fusion, chaos, a babble OF noise, his
eyes blinded by CLINT OF steel and glare
of fire. The impetus Of their rush car
ried them irresistibly forward; over
and through tents they rode. across the
bodies of living and dead; men reeled
and fell from saddles; riderless horses
swept on unguided; reyolyers emptied
we're flung aside. and hands closed
hard on sabre hits. Foot by foot,
yard by yard, they drove the wedge
OF their charge. until they swept
through the fringe Of tepees. out into
the stampeded pony herd
CTo BE CoNTINUED)
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