the general's introduction. He did not assume the picturesque dress, long hair, and belt full of weapons that are characteristic of the scout. His manner was perfectly simple and straightforward, and he could not be induced to talk of himself. He had large, dark-blue eyes, and a frank face. Year after year he braved the awful winters of Dakota alone. I have known him start out from Fort Lincoln when even our officers, accustomed as they were to hardships, were forbidden to go. He had been the best shot and most successful hunter in the territory for fifteen years. When I watched the scouts starting off on their missions, I invariably thanked Heaven that I was born a woman, and consequently no deed of valor would ever be expected from me. I felt, though, that were I compelled to be brave, I would far rather go into battle with the inspiration of the trumpet-call and the clash of arms, than go off alone and take my life in my hands as did the scouts.
The year that the regiment explored the Black Hills, Charley Reynolds undertook to carry despatches through to Fort Laramie, over one hundred and fifty miles distant. He had only his compass to guide him, for there was not even a trail. The country was infested with Indians, and he could only travel at night. During the day he hid his horse as well as he could in the underbrush, and lay down in the long grass. In spite of these precautions he was sometimes so exposed that he could hear the voices of Indians passing near. He often crossed Indian trails on his journey. The last nights of his march he was compelled to walk, as his horse was exhausted, and he found no water for hours. The frontiersmen
