140 BUFFALO LAND. 



white tents, the timber along the creek for a back- 

 ground, and the solemn, apparently illimitable plains 

 stretching away to the horizon in front. Taken alto- 

 gether, it looked more like the comfortable nooning 

 spot of a cavalry scout than the quarters of a famous 

 Greneral. Our chieftain stood in front of the center 

 tent, with a few staff-officers lounging near by, his 

 short, thick-set figure and firm head giving us some- 

 how the idea of a small, sinewy lion. 



We found the General thoroughly conversant with 

 the difficult task to which he had been called. "Place 

 the Indians on reservations," he said, " under their 

 own chiefs, with an honest white superintendency. 

 Let the civil law reign on the reservation, military 

 law away from it, every Indian found by the troops 

 off from his proper limits to be treated as an outlaw." 

 It seemed to me that in a few brief sentences this 

 mapped out a successful Indian policy, part of which 

 indeed has since been adopted, and the remainder 

 may yet be. 



When speaking of late savageries on the plains 

 the eyes of "Little Phil" glittered wickedly. In one 

 case, on Spillman's Creek, a band of Cheyennes had 

 thrust a rusty sword into the body of a woman with 

 child, piercing alike mother and offspring, and, giving 

 it a fiendish twist, left the weapon in her body, the 

 poor woman being found by our soldiers yet living. 



"I believe it possible," said Sheridan, "at once and 

 forever to stop these terrible crimes." As he spoke, 

 however, we saw what he apparently did not, a long- 

 string of red tape, of which one end was pinned to 

 his official coat-tail, while the other remained in the 



