Doctor Gordon says that he has fatty degeneration of
the heart, caused by having so little exercise in the South, but that
he will probably get over it if allowed to run every day. But I do not
like the very idea of the dog having anything the matter with his
heart. It was so pathetic to have him stagger to the tent and drop at
my feet, dumbly confident that I could give him relief.
CAMP NEAR HELENA, MONTANA TERRITORY,
November, 1877.
THE company has been ordered to Camp Baker, a small post nearly sixty
miles farther on. We were turned off from the Helena road and the rest
of the command at the base of the mountains, and are now about ten
miles from Helena on our way to the new station, which, we are told,
is a wretched little two-company post on the other side of the Big
Belt range of mountains. I am awfully disappointed in not seeing
something of Helena, and very, very sorry that we have to go so far
from our friends and to such an isolated place, but it is the
company's turn for detached service, so here we are.
The scenery was grand in many places along the latter part of the
march, and it is grand here, also. We are in a beautiful broad valley
with snow-capped mountains on each side. From all we hear we conclude
there must be exceptionally good hunting and fishing about Camp Baker,
and there is some consolation in that.
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