Finally, when hope and everything else was abandoned, they came to a solitary ranch under the curve of a hill, occupied by a white man and his Indian wife. They were saved; that is, they had escaped with their lives. The horses were put in shelter in the corral, the men crowded into the house, and the painful process of thawing out was begun. The ranch was fifteen miles from Fort Robinson, and when the blizzard abated the next day wagons and ambulances were sent out, and the helpless soldiers were carried back to the post. Most of them were in a terrible condition, and few had escaped. They were broken from the hardships they had undergone, especially from the freezing, which those who have suffered from declare causes a prostration from which it is difficult to recover. When Henry entered his quarters his wife did not recognize him. His face was black and swollen. His men cut the bridle reins to free his hands, and then slit his gloves into strips, each strip bringing a piece of flesh as it was pulled off. All his fingers were frozen to the second joint; the flesh sloughed off, exposing the bones. One finger had to be amputated, and to the day of his death his left hand was so stiff that he was unable to close his fingers again. As he was a thin, spare man, with no superfluous flesh, he had suffered more than the rest. Yet he made no complaint, and it was only due to his indomitable persistence that the men were not frozen to death that awful day. Henry’s winter march is still remembered, by those in the old service, as one of the heroic achievements of the period. III. A Ghastly Experience The heroism and sufferings of the young soldier were nothing, however, to what he manifested and underwent two years later. Just before the Custer Massacre, General Crook, with some eleven hundred men, moved out from Fort Fetterman, Wyoming, on the expedition that culminated in the battle of the Rosebud. Colonel W. B. Royall had command of the cavalry of Crook’s little army. One morning in June the Sioux and the Cheyennes, under Crazy Horse, who as a fighter and general was probably second to few Indians that ever lived, attacked Crook’s men. The left wing, under Royall, was isolated in a ravine and practically surrounded by a foe who outnumbered them five to one. The rest of the army, heavily engaged, could give them no succor. The Indians made charge after charge upon the troops, who had all dismounted except the field officers. Henry had command of the left battalion of Royall’s force. Cool as an iceberg, he rode up and down the thin line, steadying and holding his men. At one time, by a daring charge, he rescued an imperiled company under a brother officer.