“He served out on the Colorado plains during the war,” at noon halt explained Sergeant Kennedy—whom Ned much liked. “Commanded the Rocky Mountain Rangers. A fine officer, they say. Now he’s the agent for the Comanches and Kiowas, down at Larned. There’s another army man and agent, too, at the same place: Major Wyncoop. His Injuns are Arapahos, Cheyennes and ’Paches. Each agent blames t’other one for damage done.” “How big is Fort Larned?” queried Ned. “Well, Larned’s a fair post, but nothing like Riley, in size. Lots of Injuns come in there, for their supplies and to trade buffalo-robes. Stages and emigrants stop there, too.” The weather continued mild and pleasant, and the march might have seemed only a practice march, had it not been for the scouts now riding more widely in front and on the flanks, examining the landscape. By this might it be known that the real Indian country had been reached. However, no Indians at all came near the march. They still were in their winter villages, awaiting the signal of the bursting willow buds and the greening grass. On duty regularly at headquarters tent, Ned could not help but hear most of the conversation; and he heard Colonel Leavenworth talking with General Custer. “My Indians are mostly camped down south, on the Texas border,” was explaining Colonel Leavenworth. “It will be hard to get them up this far, until they draw their rations. Satanta is coming, though, to tell you what he thinks.” “The red rascal,” accused General Custer, roundly. “N-no, he’s a smart Injun. He’s quite a man, Custer,” declared the colonel. “I can count on Satanta, and he’s the chief of the Kiowas. The Injuns you fellows want to look close after are that crowd of Wyncoop’s. I understand Wyncoop has sent out word for them to come in to Larned and meet you in a council.” “Well, we’ll hear what old Satanta has to say, and what the others have to say; but Hancock is out to make it plain that _we_ have something to say, too,” answered General Custer. “We’ll smoke the peace-pipe—and if they want war we can give it to them in any shape, by horse, foot and artillery. That’s my understanding of the situation and I’m ready to turn my Seventh Cavalry loose, if necessary. After a winter of drill and discipline they’re in fair shape. They need only one fight, shoulder to shoulder, to make a real regiment of them.” The terraced plateaus bordering the Smoky Hill Fork had been left behind; the flatly rolling plains grew sandier and sandier; and, finally, four days out of Fort Harker, on the seventh of April was sighted again a garrison flag streaming red, white and blue in the prairie wind.