That evening “Autie” reported upon the officers’ council which was held at the general’s tent. “Uncle Autie” had said that the regiment were to follow the Sioux even if the trail led clear to the Nebraska agencies; and it must be done on the fifteen days’ rations. That sounded exactly like the general. Just as General Sheridan had once declared, when he wanted a thing done quickly he sent Custer. The Rosebud was a small but rapid stream, flowing north through a bluffy, bare country. The Indian trail was struck the next day. There were lodge-pole marks and pony tracks, and little brush wicki-ups that looked as if dogs had slept under them. The Ree and Crow scouts, and Charley Reynolds and Isaiah and other scouts not Indians, rode in the advance, closely examining all the signs. They thought that the trail was about ten days old. Over to the right was the Big Horn River, running northeast parallel with the Rosebud. But between was the Little Big Horn, which flowing northwest emptied into the Big Horn. The theory was, that the Sitting Bull or Crazy Horse village, or both, were in on the Little Horn or the Big Horn. The Seventh was to swing in a curve and meet the infantry and the Gibbon column about where the Little Horn joined the Big Horn. That Indians were over there somewhere seemed certain; for to-day, Saturday, June 24, Curly the Crow scout reported through Mitch Bouyer the interpreter that they had found fresh Indian tracks; and they saw signal smokes on the west, or the right. The main trail was very broad and beaten to dust by the hoofs of many, many ponies. “Ike says the dust we’re making will be seen by the Sioux, sure,” complained “Autie,” much concerned, at noon camp finding Ned. “The Little Big Horn is called by the Sioux ‘Greasy Grass River.’ It’s just beyond those hills. They’re the Wolf Mountains. The Injuns might be on top, spying down on us. Maybe we won’t catch ’em.” However, General Custer knew as much as Isaiah. The companies were ordered to march at wider intervals, so as to make as little dust as possible; and that night the camp was pitched under a flanking bluff, and fires were extinguished as soon as supper had been cooked. The trail had turned off from the valley of the Rosebud. It headed for the west, as if to cross over to the Little Big Horn. The first sergeants spread the word among the companies for the men to be ready to march again at eleven-thirty. After taps there seemed to be another officers’ council, by candle-light at headquarters. Lying in his blanket, amidst the dark, while officers on their way to the general’s stepped over him, Ned could tell that something was up. The air was full of mystery and expectation.