Although Terry was the senior officer, he did not assume command of
both expeditions. Crook was left in command of his own troops, though
the two forces operated together. We crossed the Tongue River and moved
on to the Powder, proceeding down that stream to a point twenty miles
from its junction with the Yellowstone. There the Indian trail turned
to the southeast, in the direction of the Black Hills.

The two commands were now nearly out of supplies. The trail was
abandoned, and the troops kept on down the Powder River to its
confluence with the Yellowstone. There we remained for several days.

General Nelson A. Miles, who was at the head of the Fifth Infantry, and
who had been scouting in the vicinity, reported that no Indians had as
yet crossed the Yellowstone. Several steamboats soon arrived with large
quantities of supplies, and the soldiers, who had been a little too
close to famine to please them, were once more provided with full
stomachs on which they could fight comfortably, should the need for
fighting arise.

One evening while we were in camp on the Yellowstone at the mouth of
the Powder River I was informed that Louis Richard, a half-breed scout,
and myself, had been selected to accompany General Miles on a
reconnaisance. We were to take the steamer _Far West_ down the
Yellowstone as far as Glendive Creek. We were to ride in the
pilot-house and keep a sharp look-out for Indians on both banks of the
river. The idea of scouting from a steamboat was to me an altogether
novel one, and I was immensely pleased at the prospect.

At daylight the next morning we reported on the steamer to General
Miles, who had with him four or five companies of his regiment. We were
somewhat surprised when he asked us why we had not brought our horses.
We were at a loss to see how we could employ horses in the pilothouse
of a river steamboat. He said that we might need them before we got
back, so we sent for them and had them brought on board.

In a few minutes we were looking down the river, the swift current
enabling the little steamer to make a speed of twenty miles an hour.

The commander of the _Far West_ was Captain Grant March, a fine chap of
whom I had often heard. For many years he was one of the most famous
swift-water river captains in the country. It was on his steamer that
the wounded from the battle of the Little Big Horn had been transported
to Fort Abraham Lincoln, on the Missouri River. On that trip he made