arently had no
chief under whom they could rally."

The General opened the single sheet of paper, and ran his eyes slowly
down the lines of writing. Hamlin, feeling his head reel giddily,
reached out silently and grasped the back of a chair in support.
Sheridan glanced up.

"General Custer reports Major Elliott as missing and several officers
badly wounded."

"Yes, sir."

"What Indians were engaged, and under what chiefs?"

"Mostly Cheyennes, although there were bands of Arapahoes, Kiowas,
Comanches, and a few Apaches. Little Rock was in command after Black
Kettle was killed--that is of the Cheyennes. Little Raven, and
Santanta led the others."

"A fiend, that last. But, Sergeant, you are exhausted. I will talk
with you to-morrow. The officer of the day will assign you quarters."

Hamlin, still clinging to the chair with one hand, lifted the other in
salute.

"General Sheridan," he said, striving to control his voice, "General
Custer's last words to me were that I was to tell you who I am. I do
not know what he meant, but he said you would have news for me."

"Indeed!" in surprise, stiffening in his chair.

"Yes, sir--my name is Hamlin."

"Hamlin! Hamlin!" the General repeated the word. "I have no
recollection--why, yes, by Gad! You were a Confederate colonel."

"Fourth Texas Infantry."

"That's it! I have it now; you were court-martialed after the affair
at Fisher's Hill, and dismissed from the service--disobedience of
orders, or something like that. Wait a minute."

He rapped sharply on the table, and the door behind, leading into the
other room, instantly opened to admit the orderly. In the dim light of
the single lamp Hamlin saw the short, stocky figure of a soldier,
bearded, and immaculately clean. Even as the fellow's gloved hand came
sharply up to his cap visor, Sheridan snapped out:

"Orderly, see if you recognize this man."

Erect, the very impersonation of military discipline, the soldier
crossed the room, and stared into the unshaven face of the Sergeant.
Suddenly his eyes brightened, and he wheeled about as if on a pivot,
again bringing his gloved hand up in salute.

"Eet vas Colonel Hamlin, I tink ya," he said in strong German accent.
"I know heem."

The Sergeant gripped his arm, bringing his face about once more.

"You are Shultz--Sergeant-Major Shultz!" he cried. "What ever became
of you? What is it you know?"

"Wait a minute, Hamlin," said Sheridan quickly, risi