es.

Yet it was for scarcely more than a minute. Men trained, strong, clear
of brain, were in those stricken lines--men who had seen Indian battle
before. The recoil came, swift as had been the surprise. Voice after
voice rang out in old familiar orders, steadying instantly the startled
nerves; discipline conquered disorder, and the shattered column rolled
out, as if by magic, into the semblance of a battle line. On foot and
on horseback, the troopers of the Seventh turned desperately at bay.

It was magnificently done. Custer and his troop-commanders brought
their sorely smitten men into a position of defence, even hurled them
cheering forward in short, swift charges, so as to clear the front and
gain room in which to deploy. Out of confusion emerged discipline,
confidence, _esprit de corps_. The savages skurried away on their
quirt-lashed ponies, beyond range of those flaming carbines, while the
cavalry-men, pausing from vain pursuit, gathered up their wounded, and
re-formed their disordered ranks.

"Wait till Reno rides into their village," cried encouraged voices
through parched lips. "Then we'll give them hell!"

Safe beyond range of the troopers' light carbines, the Indians, with
their heavier rifles, kept hurling a constant storm of lead, hugging
the gullies, and spreading out until there was no rear toward which the
harassed cavalrymen could turn for safety. One by one, continually
under a heavy fire, the scattered troops were formed into something
more nearly resembling a battle line--Calhoun on the left, then Keogh,
Smith, and Yates, with Tom Custer holding the extreme right. The
position taken was far from being an ideal one, yet the best possible
under the circumstances, and the exhausted men flung themselves down
behind low ridges, seeking protection from the Sioux bullets, those
assigned to the right enjoying the advantage of a somewhat higher
elevation. Thus they waited grimly for the next assault.

Nor was it long delayed. Scarcely had the troopers recovered, refilled
their depleted cartridge belts from those of their dead comrades, when
the onslaught came. Lashing their ponies into mad gallop, now sitting
erect, the next moment lying hidden behind the plunging animals,
constantly screaming their shrill war-cries, their guns brandished in
air, they swept onward, seeking to crush that thin line in one terrible
onset. But they reckoned wrong. The soldiers waited their coming.
The short,