But I expected to change into my Plains clothes as soon as I got into the car.

However, these plans were sadly upset.

Both my friends and I had forgotten my trunk, which in the hour of my greatest need was still reposing in a room in the Paxton Hotel, while in clothes fit only for a banquet I was speeding over the Plains to a possible Indian fight.
At Fort McPherson, my old friend, "Buffalo Chips," was waiting for me.
He had been left behind by General Reynolds to tell me to overtake the command as soon as possible.

He had brought out old Buckskin Joe for me to ride.
The expedition was already well on its way north into the Loup country and had camped at Pawnee Springs, about eight miles from McPherson Station, the night before.
Poor old Buffalo Chips almost fell dead when he saw how I was dressed.
The hat especially filled him with amazement and rage, but there was nothing else to do.

I had to go as I was or go not at all.
The champagne with which my Omaha friends had filled my stateroom I gave to the boys at the station.