The
first time I saw those red figures--I knew what they were for--it
seemed as if they had been made in blood, and step over them I could
not. I went out in the road around them. We have seen none of those
things during the past two years, and for the sake of those who have
worked so hard for law and order, we hope the desperado element has
passed on.
FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY,
May, 1885.
IT is nice to be once more at this dear old post, particularly under
such very pleasant circumstances. The winter East was enjoyable and
refreshing from first to last, but citizens and army people have so
little in common, and this one feels after being with them a while, no
matter how near and dear the relationship may be. Why, one half of
them do not know the uniform, and could not distinguish an officer of
the Army from a policeman! I love army life here in the West, and I
love all the things that it brings to me--the grand mountains, the
plains, and the fine hunting. The buffalo are no longer seen; every
one has been killed off, and back of Square Butte in a rolling valley,
hundreds of skeletons are bleaching even now. The valley is about two
miles from the post.
We are with the commanding officer and his wife, and Hulda is here
also. She was in Helena during the winter and came from there with us.
I am so glad to have her.
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