48

46

On many a long day's march after that White rode by my side along the flanks of the column, and I got to know him well. A simpler-minded, a gentler frontiersman never lived. He was modesty and courtesy itself, conspicuous mainly because of two or three unusual traits for his class--he never drank, I never heard him swear, and no man ever heard him lie.

For years he had been CODY'S faithful follower, half servant, half "pardner." He was Bill's "Fidus Achates;" Bill was his adoration. They had been boys together, and the hero worship of extreme youth was simply intensified in the man. He copied Bill's dress, his gait, his carriage, his speech--everything he could copy; he let his long yellow hair fall low upon his shoulders in wistful imitation of Bill's glossy brown curls. He took more care of Bill's guns and horses than he did of his own, and so, when he finally claimed, one night at Laramie, the right to be known by some other title than simple Jim White--something descriptive, as it were, of his attachment for CODY, and lifelong devotion to his idol, "BUFFALO BILL," a grim quartermaster (Morton of the Ninth Infantry) dubbed him "BUFFALO CHIPS," and the name was a fixture. His story was a brief one after that episode. We launched out from Laramie on the 22d of June, and through all the vicissitudes of the campaign that followed, he was always near the Fifth. On the Yellowstone CODY was compelled to bid us a reluctant farewell to join General Terry.

A great loss to us was "BUFFALO BILL." He left his "pardner," Jim White, with us to finish the campaign as scout; and we little thought that those two sworn friends were meeting for the last time on earth when "BUFFALO CHIPS" bade good-bye to "BUFFALO BILL." "CHIPS" remained in his capacity as scout, though he seemed sorely to miss his "pardner".

It was just two weeks after that we struck the Sioux at Slim Buttes, something of which I told you in former chapter. you may remember that the Fifth had ridden in haste to the relief of Major Mills, who had surprised the Indians away in our front early Saturday morning, had whipped them in panicky confusion out of their "tepees" into the neighboring rocks, and then had to fight on the defensive against ugly odds until we rode in to the rescue. As the head of our column jogged in among the lodges, and General Carr directed us to keep on down to face the bluffs to the south, Mills pointed to a ravine opening out into the village, with the warning, "Look out for that gully; there are Indians hidden there, and they've knocked over some of my men."

Everybody was too busy just then to pay much attention to two or three wounded Indians in a hole. We were sure of getting them when wanted. So placing a couple of sentries where they could warn stragglers away from its front, we formed line along the south and west of the captured village, and got everything ready to resist the attack we knew they would soon make in full force.

46

On many a long day's march after that White rode by my side along the flanks of the column, and I got to know him well. A simpler-minded, a gentler frontiersman never lived. He was modesty and courtesy itself, conspicuous mainly because of two or three unusual traits for his class--he never drank, I never heard him swear, and no man ever heard him lie.

For years he had been CODY'S faithful follower, half servant, half "pardner." He was Bill's "Fidus Achates;" Bill was his adoration. They had been boys together, and the hero worship of extreme youth was simply intensified in the man. He copied Bill's dress, his gait, his carriage, his speech--everything he could copy; he let his long yellow hair fall low upon his shoulders in wistful imitation of Bill's glossy brown curls. He took more care of Bill's guns and horses than he did of his own, and so, when he finally claimed, one night at Laramie, the right to be known by some other title than simple Jim White--something descriptive, as it were, of his attachment for CODY, and lifelong devotion to his idol, "BUFFALO BILL," a grim quartermaster (Morton of the Ninth Infantry) dubbed him "BUFFALO CHIPS," and the name was a fixture. His story was a brief one after that episode. We launched out from Laramie on the 22d of June, and through all the vicissitudes of the campaign that followed, he was always near the Fifth. On the Yellowstone CODY was compelled to bid us a reluctant farewell to join General Terry.