XXII. TENTING ON THE PLAINS, by Elizabeth B. Custer. Harper & Brothers. New York. 1895. XXIII. THRILLING DAYS IN ARMY LIFE, by Gen. George A. Forsyth, U. S. A. Harper & Brothers. New York. 1902. XXIV. TWENTY YEARS AMONG OUR HOSTILE INDIANS, by J. Lee Humfreville (late Captain of United States Cavalry). Hunter & Co. New York. 1903. XXV. UNITED STATES IN OUR OWN TIME, THE, by E. Benjamin Andrews. Charles Scribner’s Sons. New York. 1903. XXVI. WAR PATH AND BIVOUAC, by John F. Finerty. M. A. Donohue & Co. Chicago. 1890. PART I Protecting the Frontier CHAPTER ONE The Powder River Expedition I. The Field and the Fighters Since the United States began to be there never was such a post as Fort Philip Kearney, commonly called Fort Phil Kearney.[3] From its establishment, in 1866, to its abandonment, some two years later, it was practically in a state of siege. I do not mean that it was beleaguered by the Indians in any formal, persistent investment, but it was so constantly and so closely observed by war parties, hidden in the adjacent woods and the mountain passes, that there was little safety outside its stockade for anything less than a company of infantry or a troop of cavalry; and not always, as we shall see, for those. Rarely in the history of the Indian wars of the United States have the Indians, no matter how preponderant in force, conducted a regular siege, Pontiac’s investment of Detroit being almost unique in that particular. But they literally surrounded Fort Phil Kearney at all times. Nothing escaped their observation, and no opportunity to harass and to cut off detached parties of the garrison, to stampede the herds, or to attack the wagon trains, was allowed to pass by. Not a stick of timber could be cut, not an acre of grass mowed, except under heavy guard. Herds of beef cattle, the horses for the cavalry and mounted infantry, the mules for the supply wagons, could not graze, even under the walls of the fort, without protection. The country teemed with game. Hunting parties were absolutely forbidden. To take a stroll outside the stockade on a summer evening was to invite death, or worse if the stroller happened to be a woman. There was no certainty about the attacks, except an assurance that one was always due at any given moment. As old James Bridger, a veteran plainsman and fur trader, a scout whose fame is scarcely less than that of Kit Carson, and the confidential companion adviser of Carrington in 1866, was wont to say to him: “Whar you don’t see no Injuns thar they’re sartin to be thickest.”