Unless there were other factors, the battle between Tonatiu and Shulotel would not have been able to tell the story in the short term.

……

The situation on the side of the Shulotel Legion was relatively simple, and in the face of the musket line of more than 800 people gathered by Fremont, it could not rush through!

This is not something that can be solved by courage or sacrifice.

No matter how brave the soldiers of Shulotel are, they are mortal in the flesh. If you are shot, you will die, and if you die, you will not be able to move, this is the fairest law, whether it is black or white, or Indian, you have to follow this law.

After the first round of fire, which cost more than a hundred lives at once, the blood wolf withdrew the infantry line on which he had high hopes.

It's not that he can't win, it's that he can't afford to fight.

By the time the battle had been fought, he had already known from the mouths of the captured American soldiers that he had caught a big fish. At the same time, he also received information from far and wide, and established contact with the fifteen-dollar army, the waterwheel, and the Red Cloud.

By this time, he didn't need to work as hard as he had at the beginning.

Once upon a time, the Blood Wolf used to think that the least valuable thing in the world was human life. At that time, anything like a knife, a gun, a piece of clothing, a sheep, or even a roasted potato was more expensive than human life.

Later, he gradually gained a foothold, and after three years of bad fighting in Oregon, the blood wolf suddenly discovered that human life should be the most precious thing in the world.

He's not in a hurry now.

Anyway, Fremont has already been surrounded, just like hunting, the prey has been hit by an arrow, so there is no need to risk a life-for-life fight with the prey, just wait for it to bleed.

The blood wolf stood on the top of the North 21 Heights and looked south, only to see a faint glimmer of light in the sky. He almost thought that dawn was coming, but then he realized that it was the great bonfire in Lamar Valley.

The smile on his lips could no longer be hidden, and he picked up a skull on the ground that had been blown by the fire, and placed it on the rocks in front of him, facing south.

"Nameless warrior," said the blood wolf, leaning against the rock, with the head in one hand and the other pointing to the south, "Look, the turtledove is coming!"

"Your blood will not be shed in vain!"

"Sooner or later, we'll win!"

"Sooner or later, we will build a strong nation of Indians, and no one in this country can bully us anymore!"

"I swear, I'll avenge you!"

……

On the side of the Tonatiu Legion, the style is getting more and more weird, and it is vividly staged into a tragedy where the devil comes.

To be honest, the watermill didn't want to do that at first.

After being battered in Whitefish, the Tonatiu Legion was no longer capable of fighting again. However, the situation was so urgent that Turtledove even had to lie to them that "a piece of cloth soaked in water can resist the yellow smoke", and in order to defeat Fremont, whose army suddenly increased dramatically, Turtledove even mobilized the ordinary people of White Rock City.

Under those circumstances, the Tonatiu regiment had to go on another expedition. In order to accomplish the goal of launching a general attack on Livingston before 6 o'clock, the watermill led people over the Bear's Tooth Mountain, which is more than 3,000 meters above sea level.

When he came down from Bear's Tooth Mountain, the watermill found that the men and horses he could gather were less than 100 for a while.

Facts have proved that in order to achieve tactical goals, the behavior of climbing over snow-capped mountains or crossing the desert, and finally giving the enemy a fatal blow at a critical moment, is really difficult to replicate. What can be accomplished is the unprecedentedly unprecedentedly lucky son, crushing the leading figures of the era.

The watermill barely managed to do this, but it was unable to form an effective strike force in the end.

There was no choice but to sneak into the enemy camp in the dark night, intending to make some movement and cooperate with the rest of the army.

But he didn't expect that the situation on the battlefield at this time would become out of everyone's control.

The Livingston barracks, which was supposed to have tens of thousands of troops, became an empty battalion with less than 500 men

U.S. soldiers stayed behind.

The more than 100 soldiers of the Tonatiu Legion who had infiltrated did not make any splashes in the empty camp.

Their hunt went very well.

By about 8 p.m., the entire Livingston barracks had collapsed!

Some American soldiers, frightened by the legendary ghosts, began to flee desperately. It didn't take long for the entire camp to fall into dead silence.

Of course, there are also some unbelieving American soldiers who organize "expeditions", and the two sides play thrilling and exciting ghost hunting games in the quiet and empty camp.

The soldiers who infiltrated Tornathiu were also gradually lost, and several soldiers were captured and hung in the open space in front of the barracks. However, the frothy and scarred faces became more and more hideous under the light of the torches, which only stimulated the speculation of the American troops even more—they had long heard that there were often terrible screams from the underground in Livingston, and now it seemed to be confirmed that there might really be something strange underground!

An atmosphere of terror spread like night fog through the barracks in Livingston.

Later, even the watermill itself felt that this TM was too terrifying!

Ghosts are catching people, and people are catching ghosts. A dagger or bullet is coming through the darkness at any moment, and there might be an enemy hiding behind a door or under a bed!

His manpower had spread out along with this strange battle pattern, and he didn't know how much strength he still had now.

By a fortuitous coincidence, he opens a door to the basement.

After walking down the wet steps, he came to an empty underground prison—

The intrusion of the living caused the devil entrenched here to let out a terrifying howl.

At first, it was still a squirming moan, but later, all kinds of strange sounds converged, almost piercing the eardrums of the waterwheel, and he couldn't help but hold on to the wall and vomit heavily.

The scene in front of me is not an exaggeration to describe it as a "slaughterhouse".

It's just that unlike the slaughterhouse, the eucalyptus board is all placed with some familiar human objects.

Black, white, red...... Intertwined, some still slowly wriggling, surging busily and futile in the dim light like maggots in a dung pit.

It took a while for the waterwheel to recover.

He walked cautiously against the wall, and finally came to a large red glass container, revealing a pale human being tied to the top of the container.

That man is alive!

He opened his eyes and looked at the waterwheel.

The watermill knocked on the glass tube, then smashed open the glass cover with the butt of the gun and lowered the man.

The poor old fellow, unable to stand up, could only curl up on the ground, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. Even if the watermill saves him, he won't live long.

It's a white man.

This is also the first time that the watermill feels that there are actually poor people among white people.

"What did you say?" The watermill lowered his head and put his ear close to the guy's mouth, trying to hear what he was talking about.

But this guy's voice is too quiet.

The watermill could only hear him say, "...... My name is...... Creek ......"

"Graeme...... Vampire ......"