H. Emory was in command, that I acted as guide for Lord Flynn, an
English nobleman who had come over for a hunt on the Plains. I had been
recommended to him by General Sheridan.

Flynn had served in India with the British army. He was a fine
sportsman and a splendid shot, and secured many heads and skins while
he was with me. Money meant little to him. He insisted on paying all
the bills, spending his money lavishly on both officers and men when he
was at the Post.

Once, when we ran out of liquid refreshments while on the hunt, we rode
thirty miles to a saloon, only to find it closed. Lord Flynn inquired
the price of the place, found it to be $500 and bought it. When we
left, after having had all we needed to drink, he gave it--house, bar,
stock, and all--to George Dillard, who had come along with the party as
a sort of official bartender.

Sir George Watts-Garland also made a hunt with us. He was an excellent
hunter and a thorough gentleman, but he lacked the personality that
made Lord Flynn one of the most popular visitors who ever came to the
Post.

Early in January, 1872, General Forsythe and Dr. Asch, of General
Sheridan's staff, came to Fort McPherson to make preparations for a
grand buffalo hunt to be conducted for the Grand Duke Alexis. General
Sheridan was desirous of giving the Russian nobleman the hunt of his
life. He wanted everything ready when the Grand Duke arrived, so that
he need lose no time at the Post.

By way of giving their distinguished guest a real taste of the Plains,
the two officers asked me to visit the camp of the Sioux chief, Spotted
Tail, and ask him to bring a hundred of his warriors to the spot on Red
Willow Creek, which, at my suggestion, had been selected as the Grand
Duke's camp.

Spotted Tail had permission from the Government to hunt buffalo, a
privilege that could not be granted to Indians indiscriminately, as it
involved the right to carry and use firearms. You couldn't always be
sure just what kind of game an Indian might select when you gave him a
rifle. It might be buffalo, or it might be a white man. But Spotted
Tail was safe and sane. Hence the trust that was reposed in him.

Forsythe and Asch, after accompanying me to the site I had found for
the camp, returned to the Post, while I set out to confer with Mr.
Spotted Tail. The weather was very cold, and the journey was by no
means a delightful one. I was obliged to camp out with only my
saddle-blankets to protect me