CHAPTER VI
ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN
N Troop, guarding, much to their emphatically expressed disgust, the
more slowly moving pack-train, were following Custer's advancing column
of horsemen down the right bank of the Little Big Horn. The troopers,
carbines at knee, sitting erect in their saddles, their faces browned
by the hot winds of the plains, were riding steadily northward. Beside
them, mounted upon a rangy chestnut, Brant kept his watchful eyes on
those scattered flankers dotting the summit of the near-by bluff.
Suddenly one of these waved his hand eagerly, and the lieutenant went
dashing up the sharp ascent.
"What is it, now, Lane?"
"Somethin' movin' jist out yonder, sir," and the trooper pointed into
the southeast. "They're down in a _coulee_ now, I reckon; but will be
up on a ridge agin in a minute. I got sight of 'em twice afore I
waved."
The officer gazed earnestly in the direction indicated, and was almost
immediately rewarded by the glimpse of some indistinct, dark figures
dimly showing against the lighter background of sky. He brought his
field-glasses to a focus.
"White men," he announced, shortly.
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