ports reaching
Fort Wallace in September. Governor Hunt wrote from Denver: "Just
returned. Fearful condition of things here. Nine persons murdered by
Indians yesterday, within radius of nine miles." A few days later,
acting Governor Hall reported: "The Indians have again attacked our
settlements in strong force, obtaining possession of the country to
within twelve miles of Denver. They are more bold, fierce, and
desperate in their assaults than ever before. It is impossible to
drive them out and protect the families at the same time, for they are
better armed, mounted, disciplined, and better officered than our men.
Each hour brings intelligence of fresh barbarities, and more extensive
robberies." This same month Governor Crawford, of Kansas, telegraphed,
"Have just received a despatch from Hays, stating that Indians
attacked, captured, and burned a train at Pawnee Fork; killed, scalped,
and burned sixteen men; also attacked another train at Cimarron
Crossing, which was defended until ammunition was exhausted, when the
men abandoned the train, saving what stock they could. Similar attacks
are of almost daily occurrence."

South of the Cimarron all was desolation, and war raged unchecked from
the Platte to the Pecos. Sheridan determined upon a winter campaign,
although he understood well the sufferings entailed upon the troops by
exposure on the open plains at that season. Yet he knew the habits of
Indians; that they would expect immunity from attack and would gather
in villages, subject to surprise. He, therefore, decided that the
result would justify the necessary hardships involved. To this end
smaller posts were abandoned, and the widely scattered soldiers ordered
to central points in preparation for the contemplated movement. Devere
had been deserted earlier, and Major McDonald had marched his men to
Dodge, where Molly awaited his coming. Retained there on garrison
duty, the two occupied a one-story, yellow stone structure fronting the
parade ground. In October, orders to march reached "M" troop, Seventh
Cavalry, at Fort Union, and the ragged, bronzed troopers, who all
summer long had been scouting the New Mexican plains, turned their
horses' heads to the northeast in hopefulness of action. With them up
the deserted Santa Fe trail, past burned stations and wrecks of wagon
trains, rode Sergeant Hamlin, silent and efficient, the old Confederate
haversack fastened to his saddle, and his mind, in spite o