there was dandy jim, a large gray named bill clinton, silver heel, -- badger, silver heel, unnamed bayblack pinto, one that was big, black an unruly, a gray that was one of the best buffalo horses. blue streak, tip, stumbling there, old dutch,up custer, phil sheridan, as they named some of the horses after themselves. an iron gray mare named molly, wild bill, vick, and all the horses with to names, burdened with ammunition, supplies and hard tack, who were lashed to wagons, unable to move as bullets and arrows hissed over and around them and through their flesh. the horse cavalry had become a horse cavalry, the fate of the e question uinn -- of the equines told long ago, but along the banks of the little big horn river, underred shade of a cottonwood tree, there came a valiant war veteran, a horse with a big heart and a will to live, it was comanche, blood oozing from his seven bullet wounds, or perhaps it was even 12. the record varies. and his saddle now upside down and hanging from his belly.