By July 16, Merritt had reached a small Army post on the Custer City road, where he briefly rested his command. This isolated spot, about equidistant from the Red Cloud Agency and Fort Laramie, would position the 5th to readily respond to alarms from either direction. Amazingly, the tireless Hall came up with the supplies only two hours behind the main column.

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Horsemen and wagons next proceeded across the prairie to a point where the Indian trail crossed Warbonnet Creek. By the time final bivouac was reached late that night, the 5th had covered 85 miles in little over 30 hours. In that time the soldiers had had nothing to eat except some hardtack hastily snatched from saddlebags while still on the move.

While the rest of the force bivouacked in a hollow on the west bank of the Warbonnet, Company K was given the unwelcome task of posting its exhausted men as night sentinels. King stationed most of his pickets out of sight in ravines, while he and a few others waited on a nearby hill to better survey the countryside at first light. Trooper Christian Madsen, a sharp-eyed and eager young man, was given a telescope and positioned on a smaller hill to the north.

Dawn broke blood-red a little before 4 a.m. on July 17. Fifteen minutes later, as drowsy soldiers were boiling coffee in their tin cups, a corporal abruptly jumped up and pointed toward the southeast. He shouted to King, ‘Look, Lieutenant–there are your Indians!’

Some 10 miles away, a small band of Cheyenne could just be seen in the hazy dawn, riding slowly over a ridge before descending into a wide, shallow ravine leading down toward Warbonnet Creek.

Merritt and Cody ran to join King on his hilltop observation point. In the growing light, dozens more Cheyenne, knotted in small groups of riders, could be seen snaking down the ravine. Amazingly, the warriors seemed oblivious to the soldiers positioned in front of their advance; instead, they appeared to be fascinated by something they saw far to the west, in the direction of the old Sage Creek camp.

A moment later, Merritt realized what the Cheyenne were watching so intently: Hall’s blue supply wagons were just then rolling into view in the distance. The wagon train itself was safe enough–a guard of infantrymen was concealed under the canvas covers–but two messengers riding well ahead of the wagons were totally unaware of the oncoming Cheyenne, who were already starting to whip their ponies forward to snatch up this unexpected prize. Seven of the warriors soon broke off from the rest, riding hard to intercept the couriers.

Merritt faced a real dilemma. He had wanted the Cheyenne to get as close as possible before he launched his attack, to avoid yet another futile horse race. But if he was going to save his couriers, he had to do something and do it fast. Just then, Cody spoke up. He suggested that a few picked men–naturally including himself–could ride out and scatter the seven Cheyenne, leaving the rest of the 5th free to charge at full strength. Cody, another scout and six troopers of Company K were given the assignment.

Merritt ran down the hill to join the 5th as it crossed Warbonnet Creek and formed its ranks on the east bank of the stream, just behind a high rise concealing them from the oncoming Cheyenne. Responding to whispered commands, the troopers thumbed cartridges into their Springfields and waited for whatever the next few fateful minutes would bring.

As scouts and soldiers saddled up, King kept the seven warriors under observation. He waited until they were no more than 100 yards from Warbonnet Creek, then jumped up and waved his hat, shouting: ‘Now, lads, in with you!’

Instantly, Cody and the rest of his little band galloped around the hill and launched themselves at the seven Cheyenne. Trooper Madsen, still posted on his lonely hilltop to the north, had a clear view of all that happened next, as did Sergeant John Powers of Company A, who was moonlighting as an on-the-scene correspondent for the Ellis County Star.

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