Occasionally an officer would be detailed to crawl up the heights and examine the country, especially Clark's Fork Pass, with his glass. But he was instructed never to reveal as much as the top of his head over the crest unless it was covered by some bush or tall grass.

On the following morning about eleven o'clock the hostile Bannocks were seen on the top of a mountain, slowly winding their way down the circuitous rocky trail, a distance of ten or twelve miles from us, moving along down Clark's Fork, and going into camp in the valley within six miles. of the command. They unsaddled and turned out their horses-quite a large herd-posted their videttes or lookouts on the bluffs immediately adjacent to the camp, built their camp fires, and settled down apparently confident of their safety, and utterly unconscious of the strong command concealed in their vicinity.

To approach their camp it would be necessary to pass over a level plain two or three miles in extent, and the lookouts or videttes would have discovered the command the moment it debouched from its place of concealment. Having once discovered us, it would be but the work of a moment for the Indians to jump upon their horses and escape over the foot-hills and rugged passes of that mountainous region. I, therefore, decided to remain in our place of concealment, from which we watched their camp all that day, and that night we moved slowly down to within two miles of it.

At nine o'clock that evening I called the two Indians who had first followed us from the Crow agency, and told them that I wanted them to crawl up and discover the condition of the Bannock camp. An Indian wrapped in his blanket could crawl up under cover of the darkness and walk near a hostile Indian camp without being discovered, whereas a white man would have been immediately recognized. This was especially so as the night was dark and rainy, and the Bannocks were curled up sheltering themselves from the rain and cold, and if the Crow scouts had been seen, wrapped as they were in their blankets, they would very likely have been mistaken for members of the Bannock camp walking about looking out for their horses.

The Crow scouts returned between twelve and one o'clock and reported that the Bannock camp was in a very strong position, difficult to approach, with the sage brush as high as a horse's back about it, and that if we attempted to take it we would get whipped. The rain had then been pouring down in torrents for several hours and the conditions were anything but cheerful.

For this dangerous, hazardous and valuable service, these two men were afterward well rewarded, but they were told at the time that the attack would be made at daybreak and the Crows were expected to assist-at least they were expected to capture the herd of horses-and they were then directed to guide us to the hostile camp. Slowly and noiselessly the command moved in the direction in which the camp was supposed to be, stopping to listen in the dark, and occasionally making long waits for some ray of light or other sign to direct them. When we had moved to a distance that we believed would place us very near the camp, we halted and waited until about four o'clock, as we were not sure of its exact location or direction. Fortunately a dim light suddenly appeared on our left, about five hundred yards dis

tant, indicating the exact locality of the camp, and that we had almost passed it.

The troops were formed in skirmish line and the center directed to guide on this light, which was evidently caused by some one just starting a fire for the morning, and as good a line as could be arranged in the dark was made. The Crows were told to take position on the right of the line. The troops moved slowly and cautiously in the direction of the light, passing through the grazing herd of horses and ponies. A halt was occasionally made in order to wait until the troops could see a short distance, and it was noticed that as we passed through the herd, the Crow warriors began to quietly move off some of the Bannock horses, and instead of remaining on the right of the troops where they had been placed, they gradually worked to the left, and as they did so drove the herd to the rear. As day broke the troops were able to see, and moved forward until they got within a hundred yards of the camp before opening fire.

The Indians were taken completely by surprise. Some of them jumped into the river and swam to the other side. Eleven of the warriors were killed and the remainder surrendered. The fight lasted but a short time and was ended by six o'clock in the morning.

Before the affair was over there was scarcely a Crow Indian, and not a single Bannock horse, to be seen in the valley. While the Crows had been useful on account of their formidable numbers, the principal object of their attention was the herd of captured horses. Some of them did not stop until they had reached the agency, a distance of seventy-five miles, where they arrived about one o'clock in the afternoon. Others left their captured stock in the hands of their friends four or five miles back in the foot-hills, and returned to the assistance of the troops. They did good service, especially in calling out to the Bannocks to surrender, and also in capturing a small party that came into the valley later and were evidently following the main camp with a band of stolen horses one day behind. I had sent the interpreter, named Rock, on in advance of the command from the Crow agency as we marched out to go up to Clark's Fork to see what he could find out about the enemy. He could speak both Crow and Bannock. When he had gone over the pass and into the park, he met the Bannocks on the other side of Clark's Fork Pass coming out. After leaving them he passed on as if journeying in the same direction from whence they had come until he had gone a safe distance away, and then circled around, returned, and reported to me the night before the attack. He was a good man, and, I am sorry to say, was killed in the fight.

The affair was a very disastrous one to the Indians, eleven of their number being killed and many wounded, while their entire camp was captured with two hundred and fifty horses.

CAPTAIN BENNETT.

Our loss was small in number, but among the killed was Captain Andrew S. Bennett of the Fifth Infantry, a most accomplished, meritorious and valuable officer. It was a sad sight as his friends gazed upon his dead body which Surgeon Redd had placed against a tree, with the shoulders bare, in order to examine the wound. The bullet

hole was in the center of his breast, and had evidently caused instant death. It seemed hard and strange that this good soldier, who had risked his life on many a hard-fought battlefield, both during the war and on the frontier, must meet his death at last in that wild and rugged region amid the eternal silence of these snow-capped mountains. His body was tenderly cared for and sent to his relatives in Wisconsin.

The command remained beside the rapid, clear, trout stream that came down from the mountains, during that day, and in the evening witnessed the burial of one of the Crow warriors who had been killed in the fight and had been a very popular man in the tribe. After his body had been arranged for its final rest and bedecked with all the valuables that he had possessed, as well as some belonging to his friends, and his final resting place had been prepared on a high butte standing alone in the valley near the camp, his body was lifted on the shoulders of four of his comrades, who slowly moved up the side of the butte chanting their sorrow in low, mournful tones, while the other Indians bewailed his loss according to the custom of their people.

Sending back the captive Bannocks by a command under Lieutenant Colonel Buell, that had moved up

tana, and making all arrange-
our dead and wounded, I renewed
Yellowstone upon an en-
tirely different route from
that which I had formerly
planned. I sent couriers
to Lieutenant Bailey's
command, and also to the
detachment with our
wagon-train at Fort Ellis,
directing them to move
on to the Mammoth Hot
Springs in the National
Park, and there await my
arrival.

I then took up my line

from Fort Custer, Monments necessary for my journey toward the

THE MOUNTAIN BUFFALO.

of march, following the back trail of the Bannocks over a high mountain pass most difficult of ascent, yet with surrounding scenery far more majestic and grand than that of the ordinary trail up the Yellowstone Cañon which is now the principal route of travel. We followed the circuitous

trail by which the Bannocks had moved out, which was also the same one

that Looking Glass and Chief Joseph had followed with the tribe of Nez Percés the year before. It was familiar to a few of the Indians, but originally had been nothing more than a large trail made by the deer, elk and mountain buffalo in going into and out of the park. This latter animal is found in various portions of the Rocky Mountains, especially in the region of the parks. It has been, and more properly, called the "American bison." The animal bears about the same relation to his relative, the plains buffalo, as the sturdy mountain pony does to the wellbuilt American horse. His body is lighter, though his legs are shorter and much thicker and stronger than those of the plains animal; this structure enabling him to perform feats of climbing which would seem almost impossible to such a huge and apparently unwieldy beast. They also differ from the plains species in being excessively shy, inhabiting the darkest, deepest defiles, and high, craggy, almost precipitous sides of the mountains, inaccessible to any but the most practiced mountaineers.

We ascended the high divide, going close under Pilot and Index Peaks, which are covered

with perpetual snow, and then descended to the headwaters of what is