I replied that it was about twenty-five miles, and he said we would make it the next day.

Getting an early start in the morning, we struck out across the prairie, my position as guide being ahead of the advance guard.

About two o'clock General Carr overtook me, and asked how far I supposed it was to water.

I thought it was about eight miles, although we could see no sign or indication of any stream in our front.
"Pepoon's scouts say that you are going in the wrong direction," said the General, "and in the way you are bearing it will be fifteen miles before you can strike any of the branches of the Beaver; and that when you do, you will find no water, for the Beavers are dry at this time of the year at that point." "General, I think the scouts are mistaken," said I, "for the Beaver has more water near its head than it has below; and at the place where we will strike the stream we will find immense beaver dams, large enough and strong enough to cross the whole command, if you wish." "Well, Cody, go ahead," said he, "I'll leave it to you, but remember that I don't want a dry camp." "No danger of that," said I, and then I rode on, leaving him to return to the command.

As I had predicted, we found water seven or eight miles further on, where we came upon a beautiful little stream--a tributary of the Beaver--hidden in the hills.