In the hard times that followed there was no little growling among the half-starving troopers, because the packers seemed to have sufficient to eat when we were well-nigh destitute. So one night a fifth verse was trolled out on the still evening air in a strongly Hibernian brogue, and the listening ears of the Fifth were greeted with something like this: "But 'twas out upon the Yellowstone we had the d--dest time, Faix, we made the trip wid Rosebud George, six months without a dime. [Illustration: "THE DANDY FIFTH." (General Merritt and his Officers on the Sioux Campaign.)] Some eighteen hundred miles we went through hunger, mud, and rain, Wid backs all bare, and rations rare, no chance for grass or grain; Wid 'bunkies shtarvin' by our side, no rations was the rule; Shure 'twas ate your boots and saddles, you brutes, but feed the packer and mule. But you know full well that in your fights no soldier lad was slow, And it wasn't the packer that won ye a star in the Regular Army, O." With full stomachs, however, came forgetfulness of suffering, and this with other campaign lyrics was forgotten. It seemed so good to rest in peace for day after day. General Merritt with his staff, and Major Upham, had pitched their tents in the shelter of a little rocky promontory that jutted out into the valley and was crowned by a sparse growth of pines and cedars. One evening, as the full moon shone down upon the assembled party over this ridge, a perfectly defined cross appeared upon the very face of the luminary. Every one noticed it, and one of the number, clambering to the summit, found growing from a cleft in the rock a sturdy little leafless branch about two feet in length, crossed by another and smaller twig; the cross was perfect, and the effect in the moonlight something simply exquisite. "Camp Faith" was thereupon selected as the name of cavalry headquarters. Somebody wanted a name for the Fifth Cavalry camp, and, in recognition of our present blissful and undisturbed existence, as compared with recent vicissitudes, and mindful of the martial palace of Sans Souci at Potsdam, a wildly imprudent subaltern suggested _Sans Sioux Ici_, but it was greeted with merited contempt. Of course all were eager for intimation of our next move. Occasional despatches reached General Merritt, but not a hint could be extracted from him. Rumors of a winter campaign were distressingly prevalent, and the Fifth were beginning to look upon a prolonged stay in the Hills as a certainty, when one day an aide-de-camp of the chief's came to me with the request that I would make a map for him of the country between the South Cheyenne and Red Cloud Agency, and let no one know what I was doing. A week after he wanted another sketch of the same thing, and it became evident, to me at least, that before very long we would be down along the White River, looking after "Machpealota."