Safe beyond range of the troopers' light carbines, the Indians, with
their heavier rifles, kept hurling a constant storm of lead, hugging
the gullies, and spreading out until there was no rear toward which the
harassed cavalrymen could turn for safety. One by one, continually
under a heavy fire, the scattered troops were formed into something
more nearly resembling a battle line--Calhoun on the left, then Keogh,
Smith, and Yates, with Tom Custer holding the extreme right. The
position taken was far from being an ideal one, yet the best possible
under the circumstances, and the exhausted men flung themselves down
behind low ridges, seeking protection from the Sioux bullets, those
assigned to the right enjoying the advantage of a somewhat higher
elevation. Thus they waited grimly for the next assault.
Nor was it long delayed. Scarcely had the troopers recovered, refilled
their depleted cartridge belts from those of their dead comrades, when
the onslaught came. Lashing their ponies into mad gallop, now sitting
erect, the next moment lying hidden behind the plunging animals,
constantly screaming their shrill war-cries, their guns brandished in
air, they swept onward, seeking to crush that thin line in one terrible
onset. But they reckoned wrong. The soldiers waited their coming.
The short, brown-barrelled carbines gleamed at the level in the
sunlight, and then belched forth their message of flame into the very
faces of those reckless horsemen. It was not in flesh and blood to
bear such a blow. With screams of rage, the red braves swerved to left
and right, leaving many a dark, war-bedecked figure lying dead behind
them, and many a riderless pony skurrying over the prairie. Yet their
wild ride had not been altogether in vain; like a whirlwind they had
struck against Calhoun on the flank, forcing his troopers to yield
sullen ground, thus contracting the little semicircle of defenders,
pressing it back against that central hill. It was a step nearer the
end, yet those who fought scarcely realized its significance. Exultant
over their seemingly successful repulse, the men flung themselves again
upon the earth, their cheers ringing out above the thud of retreating
hoofs.
"We can hold them here, boys, until Reno comes," they shouted to each
other.
The skulking red riflemen crept ever closer behind the ridges, driving
their deadly missiles into those ranks exposed in the open. Twice
squads dashed forth to dislodge these bands, but were in turn driven
back, the line of fire continually creeping nearer, clouds of smoke
concealing the cautious marksmen lying prone in the grass. Custer
walked up and down the irregular line, cool, apparently unmoved,
speaking words of approval to officers and men. To the command of the
bugle they discharged two roaring volleys from their carbines, hopeful
that the combined sound might reach the ears of the lagging Reno. They
were hopeful yet, although one troop had only a sergeant left in
command, and the dead bodies of their comrades strewed the plain.