604 
FOREST ANt) STREAM. 
|t)EO. 36 1896. 
pleaty of buffalo, besides smaller game, and we migtit 
have loaded a steamboat with meat if we had wanted to 
and had had the steamboat. As it was, we killed an elk, 
» sheep and two blacktail deer, and then stopped hunting 
because the boat was loaded within an inch or two of 
the water. 
The trip down the river from Carroll to Bismarck was 
a short one, and that fall I parted with Charlie never to 
see him again. The last letter I received from him was 
written just before his trip of 1876; which proved so dis- 
astrous. 
Chatley Reynolds was resppcted and admired by General 
Custer and. his officers^ as well as by the officers' wives. 
How earnest and sincere this appreciation was is indi- 
cated by the tribute paid him by Mrs. Elizabeth B. 
Custer in her book entitled "Boots and Saddles"; 
"The one whose past we would have liked best to know 
was a man most valued by my husband. All the im- 
portant scoutings and most difficult missions, where 
secrecy was required, wera intrusted to him. We had 
no certain knowledge whether or not he had any family 
or friends elsewhere, for he never spoke of them. He 
acknowledged once, in a brief moment of confidence, 
that he was a gentleman by birbh. Startled, perhaps, by 
the look of curiosity that even a friend's face showed, he 
turned the conversation and said, 'Oh, but what's the 
use to refer to it now?' We did not know whether Char- 
ley Reynolds was his real name or one that he had 
assumed. Soon after we reached Dakota the General 
began to employ him as a scout. He remained with him 
much of the time, until he fell in the battle of the Little 
Big Horn My husband had such genuine admiration 
for him that I soon learned to listen to everything per- 
taining to his life with marked interest. He was so shy 
that he hardly raised his eyes when I extended my hand 
at the General's introduction. He did not assume the pic- 
turesque dress, long hair and belt full of weapons that 
are cnaracteristic of the scout. His manner was per- 
fectly simple and straightforward, and he could not be 
induced to talk of himself. He had large, dark-blue 
eyes and a frank face. Year after year he braved the 
awful winters of Dakota alone. I have known him to 
start out from Forb Lincoln when even our officers, 
accustomed as they were to hardships, were forbidden to 
go. He had been the best shot and most successful hunter 
in the territory for fifteen years. * * * 
"The y«ar that the regiment explored the Black Hills, 
Charley Reynolds undertook to carry dispatches through 
to Fort Laramie, over 150 miles distant. He had only his 
compass to guide him, for there was not even a trail. 
The country was infested with Indians, and he could 
travel only at night. During the day he hid his horse as 
well as he could in the underbrush and lay down in the 
long grass. In spite of these precautions, he was some- 
times so exposed that he could hear the voices of the 
Indians passing near. He often crossed Indian trails on 
his journey. The last nights of his march he was com- 
pelled to walk, as his horse was exhausted, and he found 
no water for hours. * * * His lips became so parched 
and his throat so swollen that he could not close his 
mouth. In this condition he reached Fort Laramie and 
delivered his dispatches. It was from the people of that 
post that the General heard of his narrow escape. He 
came quietly back to his post at Fort Lincoln, and only 
confessed to his dangers when closely questioned by the 
General long afterward. When I think how gloriously he 
fell, fighting for his country, with all the valor and fidel- 
ity of one of her officers, my eyes fill with tears; for he 
lies there on the battle-field, unwept, unhonored and un- 
sung. Had he worn all the insignia of the high rank and 
the decorations of an adoring country, he could not have 
led a braver life or died a more heroic death; and yet he 
is chronicled as 'only a scout.' " 
There was talk among the officers of the 7bh Cav- 
alry in 1874 of obtaining for Charley Reynolds a commis- 
sion in the regular army, and this could very likely have 
been done, as strong influence could have been brought 
to bear on the Prtsideut to secure the appointment. 
When the news of this movement came to Charley's ears, 
however, he very quietly asked that the matter be 
dropped, saying that he would not accept a commission 
if it were offered him. His reasons for this decision, 
though never publicly stated, were, in my opinion, good 
ones at the time. 
On that 36th day of June, 1876, when so many of the 
7th Cavalry rode down into the Valley of the Shadow 
i)t Death, Charley Reynolds was attached to Reno's com- 
mand, and with it charged down from the bluffs into the 
bottom, across Reno Creek,'and quite up to the edge of 
the Sioux camp. Then, as will de remembered, Reno 
halted his command and went into a piece of timber. 
The story of what took place just afterward has been told 
me by more than one witness of the scene. With Reno's 
command were a dozan or fifteen scouts— Charley Rey- 
nolds, Bloody Knife, the Ree; laaiah, the negro; Fred 
Girard, the Rae interpreter; Billy Jackson, the Piegan 
half-breed; George Herendeen, and others. 
Reno ordered the retreat. The soldiers started with 
more or less order, but the fire was terrible, and in a 
moment they became panic-stricken and crowded toward 
the ford. A body of 500 Indians was charging toward 
them down the vailey. Charley called out to the scouts, 
"Here, boys, let us try to stop these Indians and give the 
soldiers a chance to cross," The scouts stayed behind and 
turned, shooting into the charging mass, a dozen men 
against 500, the Indians came on like a whirlwind and 
struck, The soldiers crowded at the ford, they were 
killed like sheep as they struggled to get across. They 
made no defense, They were butchered with bullets, 
arrows, lances and clubs, or knocked off their horses with 
gun barrels. "It was like killing buffalo," a Cheyenne 
who was in the charge has since said to me. Bloody 
Knife had shaken hands with two or three of the 
men nearest to him, saying, "This is my last day. I see 
the sun now for the last time." He rushed out among 
the Sioux, killed two of them, and in a moment was him- 
self killed, fighting bravely to the last. Isaiah was 
knocked over by d ball. Billy Jackson and Girard had 
retreated into the timber; they were not noticed by the 
Indians, whose attention was directed entirely to the 
struggling mass of soldiers. 
Charley's horse bad been killed at once. He shot an In- 
dian who was charging toward him on a buckskin pony, 
and as the Indian did not at once fall off he shot the 
' horse, and Indian and pony rolled over together almost 
at his feet. He fired again, and then again. Bullets and 
arrows were flying thick. Suddenly Charley seemed to 
be hit in half a dozsn places. He fell, raised himself 
on his elbow and fired another shot — his last. Then he 
sank back, ' 
Charley Reynolds's most striking characteristic was his 
quietness, I never heard him swear. I never saw him 
angry with man or beast. I think I never saw him pro- 
voked except on one occasion, when an Indian named 
Goose persuaded Gen. Custer to go three or four days' 
march out of his way to visit a wonderful cave. The 
wonderful cave turned out to be a wretched little cleft 
cut out by the water in a sandstone butte. It was perhaps 
75ft. deep, and often barely wide enough for a man to 
squeeze himself in sideways. On this occasion Charley 
did express his dissatisfaction. Notwithstanding his re- 
serve he could and did talk, and talk well, but only when 
he had something to say. 
His quiet, self-contained manner, his gentleness, his 
bravery, and his wonderful knowledge of all that per- 
tained to the hunting and war of his day, made Charley 
Reynolds a man to be remarked by all who came in con- 
tact with him. He was emphatically a gentle man, a 
brave soldier, a true friend. Geoege Bird Grinnell, 
THE BARON AND THE WOLVES. 
Chapter I. 
"Please, your Honor, young Siegrol is in the court- 
yard with a wolf's head," 
It was Kraff the huntsman who spoke, and Von Siver- 
noff, turning his eyes for a moment from his morning 
cup of chocolate, said: 
"Well, what of it?" 
"Please, sir, he asks for the bounty," 
"What have I to do with that? Lst him take it to the 
mayor," said the Baron, resuming his papsr, 
"May it please your Honor, it was killed in the 
Sohlagerot." 
The Baron's eye grew dark. There had long been a 
bitter feud between himself and the mayor or governor 
of the district as to the ownership of the wild tract of 
forest and fen that was known as the Sohlagerot, and to 
have sent one of his own serfs to the mayor with a wolf 
killed in the disputed territory would have been to forego 
his claim. 
"There, give him that and bring in the head," said the 
Baron, throwing down a gold piece. 
Presently the huntsman returned with the head on a 
tray. 
"Cancel it." 
The huntsman proceeded to out off the nose and ears, 
then throwing them in the blazing fire was leaving the 
room with the "cancelled" head, when the Baron re- 
marked: 
"It's a big fellow; how did the lad manage to kill it?" 
"Please, sir, it was old Siegrol that killed it, not the 
lad." 
"Then why didn't he come with it? ' 
"It seems, sir, that the wolf nearly killed him first." 
"H'm," said the Baron, "that makes two already this 
winter." 
"Three, sir! There was Golowin's widow and Siegrol's 
little brother." 
"H'm," said the Baron placidly, and again addressed 
himself to his paper and chocolate. A few minutes later, 
when he turned to order more toast, he saw that old 
Kraff was back again, and was standing and looking un- 
easily at him. 
"Well, what is it?" 
"So please, your Honor," began the trembling hunts- 
man, "they have killed your second hunting mare?" 
"Whatl" 
The poor huntsman repeated the statement that the 
wolves had killed the mare in the field on this side of the 
Schlagerot, and the Baron broke out into a Iruly baro- 
nial rage. When the first blast of mere ejaculation was 
over he proceeded to demand the fullest information. 
"What was the horse-herd about? Who was he? He 
shall pay dearly for this." 
"Please, sir, it was old Siegrol, and that's how he lost 
his life." 
"Serves him right, the old fool, he has just escaped 
a knouting by dying in time. And why haven't you 
kept the wolves down in this neighborhood?" 
"Please, sir," said Kraff, bowing low, "we have done 
our utmost, and have, as you know, killed quite a num- 
ber during the year." 
"I know I've had to pay bounties enough, and still 
they seem to thrive under it," said the Baron with fierce 
sarcasm; "and if they are so bad now in the first of De- 
cember, what will they be in February? Another year 
I'll try a new plan; instead of a bounty on each wolf's 
head, I'll knout every man who does not kill his wolf 
before the year is out." 
"May it please your Honor, old Siegrol was availing 
himself of your permission to trap in the Schlagerot. He 
had made already over twenty springles* for wolves and 
believed that he would catch many in them before spring- 
time." 
"Pish!" said the Baron, "who ever heard of a wolf 
going in a springle trap?" 
"He was very good at it, sir, and it took three men to 
bend down his springing trees." 
"By Saint Peter and the first Von Sivernoff, I'll sec his 
family free if ever they catch anything bigger than a 
rabbit. Why hasn't he caught a dozen already if he is 
so expert?" 
' Your Honor will remember that it is but a few days 
since your permission was given to trap there, and of 
course no wolf will venture near a trap till after a new 
fall of snow has hidden all traces.' 
But the Baron, finding himself worsted by his servant 
abruptly and properly ended the dialogue, for the hunts- 
man's statements were perfectly true. The Baron, in his 
anxiety to show his authority ovar the Schlagerot, had 
allowed — which really meant ordered — old Siegrol to trap 
in it — a thing he would never have dreamed of permit- 
ting in his own, undisputed, ancestral preserves, so that 
it was really a confession of the weakness of his claim. 
Though inclined to be fat, he was when fully aroused 
as energetic as he was choleric; so he ordered the hunts- 
* A aprlagle trap ig a combination of a bent tree and a anare. Any 
»nimal getting into tbe snare and giving a eligbt pull releases tbe 
tree and is at once tbrowa high in the air and so retained till tbo 
trapper removes lt.]j 
man to prepare for one of those wolf hunts which are 
occasionally reported from Russia. The scene is well 
known: the sleigh full of armed hunters, the live pig 
squealing in the sleigh and the piece of bloody pork trail- 
ing behind as a lure to the gathering and famishing pack. 
It is a method that is better known in story books than 
in fact, for it is only on rare occasions that it is success- 
ful, 'the combination of circumstances requisite iSj in 
brief, a large wolf population in the district and a pro- 
longed time of deep snow and scarcity of foodj so that 
the wolves are sure to be ravenous with hunger. 
But now it was early in the winter, and the wolvepj 
though numerous, were far from starving. They did 
indeed follow the Baron's squealing pig^ but at a safe 
distance, and only for a short timPj so that the hunt 
passed without the death of a single wolf, and the second 
day with the drag was no more successful than the first. 
On the third day, as they were driving homeward 
about dark, one or two dusky forms were deecried fol- 
lowing the sleigh track far behind) but they would not 
come near enough to give a chance tor a successful shot. 
At length, continuing a train of disparaging remarks— for 
he was obliged to discharge some one under the circum- 
stances — 'the Baron said ; 
"I suppose you would be afraid to get up that tree 
while we drive on, then shoot at the brutes as they pass 
under you?"' 
It was a mean, unkind sneer, for never in his life had 
old Kraff shown any lack of courage; it was the last straw 
too, and he sullenly growled, "I'M hot afraid of anything 
in churchyard or woods," and seizing his gun he jumped 
into the snow. 
There was just a faint accent on the "I," and the allu- 
sion to the churchyard was a home shot, for the Baron's 
weak side was superstition. He had many years ago 
been terribly frightened by a supposed ghost, and though 
ilA.. iJ 1.ES FaiGHTBKKD BY A QHOST. 
his college chums had chaffed him no little about it, this 
was the first time that one of his own dependants had 
dared to make the slightest allusion to the subject 
He scarcely knew what to say he was so furious, yet to 
have shown it would have been to confess that he recog- 
nized the thrust. So he stified his rage, and the" hors?s 
bounded off again through the woods. Turning on a cir- 
cuit, the sleigh full of hunters came twenty minutes later 
on their old track to the huntsman's post, and they found 
him, as any one acquainted with wolfish nature would 
have expected, calnaly sitting on a root, alone and un- 
disturbed. 
He had found the tree not easy to climb, so did not »^t- 
tempt it; and the wolves— as he knew they would — disap- 
peared for good the moment they saw him leave the 
sleigh. He neither saw nor heard them again. 
Not a word passed between him and the Baron, but 
everyone felt instinctively that it was a great victory for 
old Kraff. 
That night the Baron set about drowning the memory 
of his defeat, and, as was usual with him in such times, 
he found much solace in dilating on the matchless prow- 
ess of the illustrious house that he represented. He was 
especially fond of relating the exploits of the first Von 
Sivernoff, Petro, after whom he himself was named. 
This first of the baronial line was said to have cut down 
twenty Swedes with his own good sword on the field of 
THKRK SAT KEAFF. 
