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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Well, glory be, th' times has changed since me frind Jawn Finerty come out iv th' House iv Riprisintatives; an', whin some wan ast him what was goin' on, he says, 'Oh, nawthin' at all but some damned American business. Thim was th' days! An' what's changed thim?
'Has Finerty gone in? says I. 'He has, he says. 'Thin, says I, ''tis all off with th' Sassenach. We'll run thim fr'm th' face iv th' earth, I says. ''Tis th' prisint intintion iv mesilf to hire a good big tug an' put a hook into Ireland, an' tow it over th' big dhrink, an' anchor it ayether in th' harbor iv New York or in th' lake.
At the last moment John F. Finerty, a plucky newspaper man who was reporting the campaign for the Chicago Times, asked permission to go, also. He had not heard about the proposed trip until that morning, July 6; but he did not wish to miss any excitement, and therefore he applied at once to General Crook. The general hesitated a minute.
He, Baptiste and the lieutenant immediately left the men and horses and climbed for a look at the back trail. Reporter Finerty soon overtook them, to find out what was the matter although he had no doubts about it. To this time only Frank and Baptiste knew, apparently. But when they four had reached a view-point, and had their glasses out, the lieutenant calmly asked: "What did you see, Frank?"
"Only Sitting Bull's war-party! I could have told they'd be here around the Little Big Horn, without our coming." Sitting Bull's war-party! That meant Sioux, with a vengeance. Lieutenant Sibley said nothing. Reporter Finerty caught his breath. They focused their glasses upon their back trail, and upon the country north. They had no need of glasses. There they were the Sioux, riding up the valley.
He and the two scouts crawled to position on a little knoll; the others followed, and took their posts. Reporter Finerty crept to his commander's side. "We're in hard luck again," young Lieutenant Sibley whispered. "But we'll show those red scoundrels how white men can fight and die, if necessary. Men," he said, "we have a good place; let every shot count on an Indian."
No man in the column was more popular. He hastened to tell Lieutenant Sibley, his friend. Lieutenant Sibley was glad. Other officers asked him what kind of an obituary they should write for him. Captain E. E. Wells, of Troop E the Sibley troop only remarked, without a smile: "Orderly, bring Mr. Finerty a hundred rounds of Troop E ammunition." This sounded like business, to Reporter Finerty.
The advance warriors riding southward were almost at the spot where the trail had turned in flight for the foothills. Reporter Finerty heard his heart beat furiously. They all stiffened. A few moments would tell the tale. Aha! An Indian in a red blanket had reined his pony short, and was staring at the ground. Now he began to trot in a small circle. A signal!
"Ye needn't be pro-fane about it," said Mr. Dooley. "I on'y ast ye a civil question. F'r mesilf, I have no feelin' on th' subject. I am not with th' queen an' I'm not again her. At th' same time I corjally agree with me frind Captain Finerty, who's put his newspaper in mournin' f'r th' ivint. I won't march in th' parade, an' I won't put anny dinnymite undher thim that does.
He well knew that it was likely to be a dangerous scout, and that the Sioux were no joke. At last he said shortly: "All right, sir. But I warn you that you're liable to get into more trouble than you bargain for." That did not daunt the alert John Finerty. He already had fought side by side with the troopers, and was looked upon as a soldier although not in uniform.
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