The soldiers who had been in the wagon-train fight carried John Ermine'sfame into cantonments, and Major Searles never grew tired of the paean:--
"I do not go to war for fifty dollars, You can bet your boots that isn't not me lay. When I fight, it's only glory which I collars, Also to get me little beans and hay."
But his more ardent admirers frowned on this doggerel, and reminded thesongsters that no one of them would have made that courier's ride for athousand acres of Monongahela rye in bottles. As for Wolf-Voice, theyappreciated his attitude. "Business is business, and it takes money tobuy marbles," said one to another.
But on the completion of the rude huts at the mouth of the Tongue, andwhen the last wagon train had come through, there was an ominouspreparation for more serious things. It was in the air. Every whitesoldier went loping about, doing everything from greasing a wagon tomaking his will.
"Ah, sacre, John," quoth Wolf-Voice, "am much disturb; deseMasta-Shella[13] waas say dis big chief--what you call de Miles?--shemedicin fighter; she very bad mans; she keep de soldiers' toes sore allde taime. She no give de dam de cole-moon, de yellow-grass moon; shehump de Sioux. Why for we mak to trouble our head? We have dose box,dose bag, dose barrel to heat, en de commissaire--wael 'nough grub las'our lifetaime; but de soldier say sure be a fight soon; dat Miles shebegin for paw de groun'--it be sure sign. Wael, we mak' a skin dat lasfight, hey, John?"
[13] White men.
Ermine in his turn conceived a new respect for the white soldiers. Iftheir heels were heavy, so were their arms when it came to the finalhug. While it was not apparent to him just how they were going to whipthe Sioux and Cheyenne, it was very evident that the Indians could notwhip the soldiers; and this was demonstrated directly when ColonelMiles, with his hardy infantry, charged over Sitting Bull's camp, andwhile outnumbered three to his one, scattered and drove the proudtribesmen and looted their tepees. Not satisfied with this, the grimsoldier crawled over the snow all winter with his buffalo-coated men,defying the blizzards, kicking the sleeping warriors out of theirblankets, killing and chasing them into the cold starvation of thehills. So persistent and relentless were the soldiers that they foughtthrough the captured camps when the cold was so great that the men hadto stop in the midst of battle to light fires, to warm their fingers,which were no longer able to work the breech-locks. Young soldiers criedin the ranks as they perished in the frigid atmosphere; butnotwithstanding, they never stopped. The enemy could find no deep defilein the lonely mountains where they were safe; and entrench where theywould among the rocks, the steady line charged over them, pouringbullets and shell. Ermine followed their fortunes and came to understandthe dying of "the ten thousand men." These people went into battle withthe intention of dying if not victorious. They never consulted theirheels, no matter what the extremity. By the time of the green grass thewarriors of the northern plains had either sought their agencies or fledto Canada. Through it all Ermine had marched and shot and frozen withthe rest. He formed attachments for his comrades--that enthusiasticaffection which men bring from the camp and battle-field, signed bysuffering and sealed with blood.