"When did you leave?"
"The evening of the 27th, sir. I was sent back with an Osage guide to bring you this report."
"And the guide?"
"He gave out on the Cimarron and I came on alone."
"And Custer? Did he strike Black Kettle?"
"We found his camp the evening of the 26th, and attacked at daybreak the next morning. There were more Indians with him than we expected to find--between two and three thousand, warriors from all the southern tribes. Their tepees were set up for ten miles along the Washita. We captured Black Kettle's village, and destroyed it; took his pony herd, and released a number of white prisoners, including some women and children. There was a sharp fight, and we lost quite a few men; I left too early to learn how many."
"And the command--is it in any danger?"
"I think not, sir. General Custer was confident he could retire safely. The Indians were thoroughly whipped, and apparently 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."