Therefore, with dawn all were alert to strike the wagon-trail to Fort Wallace. Comstock and the Delawares forged ahead, to examine it first before the cavalry column should mark it up. The general and his staff urged forward, to get the report. “Well, Comstock. Have they passed?” queried the general, reining short. Comstock had been on foot, peering closely. The Delawares and he seemed to have agreed, for now he remounted. “Yes, sir. They’ve gone toward Wallace, sure,” he said, soberly. “They’ve mistook this here trail for the main trail of the column. The trail shows that twelve American horses, shod all ’round, have lately passed at a walk, in direction of the fort. When they come by this p’int they were all right, ’cause their hosses were movin’ along easy, an’ there are no pony tracks behind ’em, as would be the case ef Injuns had got an eye on ’em.” Comstock rubbed his cheek, dubiously. “I mought as well say that in _my_ opinion, gentle-_men_, it’ll be astonishin’ ef that lootenint an’ his lay-out gets into the fort without a scrimmage. He may, but _ef_ he does, it’ll be a scratch ef ever thar was one, an’ I’ll lose my confi_dence_ in Injuns.” That sounded bad. It was only two days’ march to the fort, but what would those two days uncover? “We’ll soon know, then,” spoke the general. “Let us hope that if they did reach the fort, they didn’t attempt to return and hunt us further, and that we’ll find them there. You and the Delawares watch close, Will, to catch any sign of their having left the trail, at either side.” Comstock nodded. Still the plains stretched lonely and unbroken, with never a sight of moving figure save occasional rabbit or wolf. Then, toward noon, at last something did appear—a white object, dotting the trail a mile in advance. A skeleton? A tent? A patch of alkali? At every guess Comstock, gazing, shook his head; and even the Delawares were mystified. But General Custer never delayed. “Come on,” he bade. “Let’s look into that.” And away he galloped, with Adjutant Moylan and Major Elliot and Major West and a couple of other officers, the scouts, and Ned faithfully following. Where went the general, went he, the orderly. “It’s a hoss! A dead hoss, gentle-_men_,” pronounced Comstock, before they were more than half way. The general did not pause to level his glasses again; Comstock’s word was enough. Sure enough, a horse it was; a white horse, lying stiff and bloody in the trail, with a bullet-hole through its head. “A cavalry horse,” exclaimed the general, quickly. “There’s the U. S. on its shoulder, and saddle marks on its back.” “It’s out of the Second Cavalry, too, general,” added Major Elliot. “When I was at Sedgwick I noticed a full company mounted on white horses.” “Do you see any Indian sign, Comstock?—As to who did this? Or whether there’s been a fight?” demanded the general.