Water was needed; but when soldiers tried to get it from the river below they were promptly fired upon. The shooting in the direction where the general was died away to a fitful clatter; few Indians were to be seen; and at last Major Reno did order a movement north on the bluffs, toward the general. Then the Indians gathered fast and furious, and the command was driven back to the first bluff. The general’s battalion had been in sight, two miles distant, on a hill. At least, over there was an eddy of riding and irregular firing. From the place many Indians suddenly came hurrying to attack the other white soldiers. So it looked as if the general had been defeated and his rear-guard had been defending his retreat. But why didn’t he send a courier through or make signals, to inform the rest of the regiment? The bluff was a lively spot. Thicker and thicker the Sioux and the Cheyennes were besieging it. From every side, from above as well as from below, shrieked their taunts, whined their bullets. The day was almost spent. As the sun sank into the desolate hills the red foe yelped the louder, fired the faster; every bunch of sage and every rock seemed to harbor an Indian; down by the willow-bordered stream the squaws sang vengefully in the village still standing and triumphant. Even at twilight the Indians did not dare to charge. Steadily and desperately the soldiers replied to their bullets. Officer and man shot as one; and Ned among them. His stubby cavalry carbine repeatedly jammed on him. It wouldn’t extract the shell. On right and left he heard his mates complaining of their carbines also. They must stop and use their knife-blades, to pry loose the shells. The twilight faded; the dusk settled; and the Indians quit. The reports of rifle and carbine ceased; and for an instant quiet blessed the valley. Ned was glad to rise and stretch his cramped legs and back, and look about. “Hark!” again cautioned somebody. “I hear commands! Troops are coming! Hurrah for Crook!” “Don’t you see them over there? Right over there against the sky-line! Ah—now they’ve disappeared. But they’re coming—Terry or Crook or Custer! Hurrah!” “Hurrah!” welled the cheers, from this hill and all along the bluff, where the Reno men also were stirred. “Sound stables, Fletcher,” bade Captain Benteen, of Ned. “Loud as you can, to reach them and guide them.” With parched and cracked lips Ned did his best, pealing from his battered trumpet the rollicking, familiar tune: Come off to the stable all ye who are able, And give your horses some oats and some corn; For if you don’t do it your colonel will know it, And then you will rue it as sure as you’re born. “Now listen!” It did seem as though answering bugle call floated in through the dusk. But after shots had been fired, and more calls had been sounded, officers and men must agree that their hopes deceived them. Nobody was coming. So where was Custer?