IV.

Cautiously approaching, on all fours, to within a few yards of the

nearest lodge, occasionally halting and listening to discover evidence

as to whether the village was deserted or not, we finally decided that

the Indians had fled before the arrival of the cavalry, and that none

but empty lodges were before us. This conclusion somewhat emboldened

as well as accelerated our progress. Arriving at the first lodge, one

of our party raised the curtain or mat which served as a door, and

the doctor and myself entered. The interior of the lodge was dimly

lighted by the decaying embers of a small fire built in the centre.

All around us were to be seen the usual adornments and articles which

constitute the household effects of an Indian family. Buffalo robes

were spread like carpets over the floor; head-mats, used to recline

upon, were arranged as if for the comfort of their owners; parfleches,

a sort of Indian band-box, with their contents apparently undisturbed,

were to be found carefully stowed away under the edges or borders of

the lodge. These, with the door-mats, paint-bags, rawhide ropes, and

other articles of Indian equipment, were left as if the owners had only

absented themselves for a brief period. To complete the picture of an

Indian lodge, over the fire hung a camp-kettle, in which, by means of

the dim light of the fire, we could see what had been intended for the

supper of the late occupants of the lodge. The doctor, ever on the

alert to discover additional items of knowledge, whether pertaining

to history or science, snuffed the savory odors which arose from the

dark recesses of the mysterious kettle. Casting about the lodge for

some instrument to aid him in his pursuit of knowledge, he found a horn

spoon, with which he began his investigation of the contents, finally

succeeding in getting possession of a fragment which might have been

the half of a duck or rabbit, judging merely from its size. “Ah!” said

the doctor, in his most complacent manner, “here is the opportunity

I have long been waiting for. I have often desired to test and taste

of the Indian mode of cooking. What do you suppose this is?” holding

up the dripping morsel. Unable to obtain the desired information, the

Doctor, whose naturally good appetite had been sensibly sharpened by

his recent exercise _à la quadrupède_, set to with a will and ate

heartily of the mysterious contents of the kettle. “What can this

be?” again inquired the doctor. He was only satisfied on one point,

that it was delicious--a dish fit for a king. Just then Guerrier, the

half-breed, entered the lodge. He could solve the mystery, having spent

years among the Indians. To him the doctor appealed for information.

Fishing out a huge piece, and attacking it with the voracity of a

hungry wolf, he was not long in determining what the doctor had supped

so heartily upon. His first words settled the mystery: “Why, this is

dog.” I will not attempt to repeat the few but emphatic words uttered

by the heartily disgusted member of the medical fraternity as he rushed

from the lodge.

Other members of our small party had entered other lodges, only to find

them, like the first, deserted. But little of the furniture belonging

to the lodges had been taken, showing how urgent and hasty had been

the flight of the owners. To aid in the examination of the village,

reinforcements were added to our party, and an exploration of each

lodge was determined upon. At the same time a messenger was despatched

to General Hancock, informing him of the flight of the Indians. Some

of the lodges were closed by having brush or timber piled up against

the entrance, as if to preserve the contents. Others had huge pieces

cut from their sides, these pieces evidently being carried away to

furnish temporary shelter to the fugitives. In most of the lodges the

fires were still burning. I had entered several without discovering

anything important. Finally, in company with the doctor, I arrived

at one, the interior of which was quite dark, the fire having almost

died out. Procuring a lighted fagot, I prepared to explore it, as I

had done the others; but no sooner had I entered the lodge than my

fagot failed me, leaving me in total darkness. Handing it out to the

doctor to be relighted, I began feeling my way about the interior of

the lodge. I had almost made the circuit when my hand came in contact

with a human foot; at the same time a voice unmistakably Indian, and

which evidently came from the owner of the foot, convinced me that I

was not alone. My first impression was that in their hasty flight the

Indians had gone off leaving this one asleep. My next, very naturally,

related to myself. I would have gladly placed myself on the outside

of the lodge, and there matured plans for interviewing its occupant;

but unfortunately to reach the entrance of the lodge I must either

pass over or around the owner of the before-mentioned foot and voice.

Could I have been convinced that among _its_ other possessions there

was neither tomahawk nor scalping-knife, pistol nor war-club, or any

similar article of the noble red man’s toilet, I would have risked an

attempt to escape through the low narrow opening of the lodge; but who

ever saw an Indian without one or all of these interesting trinkets?

Had I made the attempt, I should have expected to encounter either the

keen edge of the scalping-knife or the blow of the tomahawk, and to

have engaged in a questionable struggle for life. This would not do. I

crouched in silence for a few moments, hoping the doctor would return

with the lighted fagot. I need not say that each succeeding moment

spent in the darkness of that lodge seemed like an age. I could hear a

slight movement on the part of my unknown neighbor, which did not add

to my comfort. Why does not the doctor return? At last I discovered

the approach of a light on the outside. When it neared the entrance I

called to the doctor and informed him that an Indian was in the lodge,

and that he had better have his weapons ready for a conflict. I had,

upon discovering the foot, drawn my hunting-knife from its scabbard,

and now stood waiting the _dénouement_. With his lighted fagot in one

hand and cocked revolver in the other, the doctor cautiously entered

the lodge. And there, directly between us, wrapped in a buffalo robe,

lay the cause of my anxiety--a little Indian girl, probably ten years

old; not a full-blood, but a half-breed. She was terribly frightened

at finding herself in our hands, with none of her people near. Why was

she left behind in this manner? Guerrier, our half-breed interpreter,

was called in. His inquiries were soon answered. The little girl, who

at first was an object of our curiosity, became at once an object of

pity. The Indians, an unusual thing for them to do toward their own

blood, had wilfully deserted her; but this, alas! was the least of

their injuries to her. After being shamefully abandoned by the entire

village, a few of the young men of the tribe returned to the deserted

lodge, and upon the person of this little girl committed outrages, the

details of which are too sickening for these pages. She was carried to

the fort and placed under the care of kind hands and warm hearts, where

everything was done for her comfort that was possible. Other parties

in exploring the deserted village found an old, decrepit Indian of

the Sioux tribe, who also had been deserted, owing to his infirmities

and inability to travel with the tribe. He also was kindly cared for

by the authorities of the fort. Nothing was gleaned from our search

of the village which might indicate the direction of the flight.

General Hancock, on learning the situation of affairs, despatched some

companies of infantry to the deserted village, with orders to replace

the cavalry and protect the village and its contents from disturbance

until its final disposition could be determined upon. Starting my

command back to our camp near General Hancock’s headquarters, I

galloped on in advance to report the particulars to the General. It

was then decided that with eight troops of cavalry I should start in

pursuit of the Indians at early dawn on the following morning (April

15). There was no sleep for my command the remainder of the night, the

time being fully occupied in preparation for the march, neither the

extent nor direction of which was known.

Mess kits were overhauled, and fresh supplies of coffee, sugar, flour,

and the other articles which go to supply the soldier’s larder, were

laid in. Blankets were carefully rolled so as to occupy as little

space as possible; every useless pound of luggage was discarded, for

in making a rapid pursuit after Indians, much of the success depends

upon the lightness of the order of march. Saratoga trunks and their

accompaniments are at a discount. Never was the old saying that in

Rome one must do as Romans do more aptly illustrated than on an Indian

campaign. The Indian, knowing that his safety either on offensive

or defensive movements depends in a great measure upon the speed

and endurance of his horse, takes advantage of every circumstance

which will favor either the one or the other. To this end he divests

himself of all superfluous dress and ornament when preparing for rapid

movements. The white man, if he hopes for success, must adopt the

same rule of action, and encumber his horse as little as possible.

Something besides well-filled mess chests and carefully rolled

blankets is necessary in preparing for an Indian campaign. Arms must

be reëxamined, cartridge-boxes refilled, so that each man should carry

about one hundred rounds of ammunition “on his person,” while each

troop commander must see that in the company wagon there are placed

a few boxes of reserve ammunition. Then, when the equipment of the

soldier has been attended to, his horse, without whose assistance he

is helpless, must be looked after; loose shoes are tightened by the

driving of an additional nail, and to accomplish this one may see the

company blacksmith, a soldier, with the few simple tools of his kit

on the ground beside him, hurriedly fastening the last shoe by the

uncertain light of a candle held in the hands of the rider of the

horse, their mutual labor being varied at times by queries as to “How

long shall we be gone?” “I wonder if we will catch Mr. Lo?” “If we

do, we’ll make it lively for him.” So energetic had everybody been

that before daylight everything was in readiness for the start. In

addition to the regularly organized companies of soldiers which made

up the pursuing column, I had with me a detachment of white scouts

or Plainsmen, and one of friendly Indians, the latter belonging to

the tribe of Delawares, once so famous in Indian wars. Of the Indians

one only could speak English; he acted as interpreter for the party.

Among the white scouts were numbered some of the most noted of their

class. The most prominent man among them was “Wild Bill,” whose highly

varied career was made the subject of an illustrated sketch in one

of the popular monthly periodicals a few years ago. “Wild Bill” was

a strange character, just the one which a novelist might gloat over.

He was a Plainsman in every sense of the word, yet unlike any other

of his class. In person he was about six feet one in height, straight

as the straightest of the warriors whose implacable foe he was;

broad shoulders, well-formed chest and limbs, and a face strikingly

handsome; a sharp, clear, blue eye, which stared you straight in

the face when in conversation; a finely-shaped nose, inclined to be

aquiline; a well-turned mouth, with lips only partially concealed by a

handsome moustache. His hair and complexion were those of the perfect

blond. The former was worn in uncut ringlets falling carelessly over

his powerfully formed shoulders. Add to this figure a costume blending

the immaculate neatness of the dandy with the extravagant taste and

style of the frontiersman, and you have Wild Bill, then as now the

most famous scout on the Plains. Whether on foot or on horseback, he

was one of the most perfect types of physical manhood I ever saw. Of

his courage there could be no question; it had been brought to the

test on too many occasions to admit of a doubt. His skill in the use

of the rifle and pistol was unerring; while his deportment was exactly

the opposite of what might be expected from a man of his surroundings.

It was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He seldom spoke of

himself unless requested to do so. His conversation, strange to say,

never bordered either on the vulgar or blasphemous. His influence

among the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law; and many are

the personal quarrels and disturbances which he has checked among his

comrades by his simple announcement that “this has gone far enough,”

if need be followed by the ominous warning that when persisted in

or renewed the quarreller “must settle it with me.” “Wild Bill” is

anything but a quarrelsome man; yet no one but himself can enumerate

the many conflicts in which he has been engaged, and which have almost

invariably resulted in the death of his adversary. I have a personal

knowledge of at least half a dozen men whom he has at various times

killed, one of these being at the time a member of my command. Others

have been severely wounded, yet he always escapes unhurt. On the Plains

every man openly carries his belt with its invariable appendages,

knife and revolver, often two of the latter. Wild Bill always carried

two handsome ivory-handled revolvers of the large size; he was never

seen without them. Where this is the common custom, brawls or personal

difficulties are seldom if ever settled by blows. The quarrel is not

from a word to a blow, but from a word to the revolver, and he who

can draw and fire first is the best man. No civil law reaches him;

none is applied for. In fact there is no law recognized beyond the

frontier but that of “might makes right.” Should death result from the

quarrel, as it usually does, no coroner’s jury is impanelled to learn

the cause of death, and the survivor is not arrested. But instead of

these old-fashioned proceedings, a meeting of citizens takes place, the

survivor is _requested_ to be present when the circumstances of the

homicide are inquired into, and the unfailing verdict of “justifiable,”

“self-defence,” etc., is pronounced, and the law stands vindicated.

That justice is often deprived of a victim there is not a doubt. Yet in

all of the many affairs of this kind in which “Wild Bill” has performed

a part, and which have come to my knowledge, there is not a single

instance in which the verdict of twelve fair-minded men would not be

pronounced in his favor. That the even tenor of his way continues to

be disturbed by little events of this description may be inferred

from an item which has been floating lately through the columns of

the press, and which states that “the funeral of ‘Jim Bludso,’ who

was killed the other day by ‘Wild Bill,’ took place to-day.” It then

adds: “The funeral expenses were borne by ‘Wild Bill.’” What could

be more thoughtful than this? Not only to send a fellow mortal out

of the world, but to pay the expenses of the transit. Guerrier, the

half-breed, also accompanied the expedition as guide and interpreter.

Everything being in readiness to move, the column began its march, and

reached the vicinity of the village before day had fully dawned. Here a

brief halt was necessary, until the light was sufficient to enable our

scouts to discover the trail of the Indians. When they finally set to

discover this, their method was highly interesting, and resembled not

a little the course of a thorough sportsman, who, with a well-trained

pointer or setter, thoroughly “ranges” and “beats” the ground in search

of his coveted game. The Indians had set out on their flight soon after

dark the preceding night; a heavy frost covered the ground and rendered

it difficult to detect the trail from the many pony tracks which are

always found in the vicinity of a village. We began to grow impatient

at the delay, when one of the Indians gave the “halloo” as the signal

that the trail was discovered, and again the column marched forward.

Our order of march was for the Indian and white scouts to keep a few

hundred paces in advance of the troops, so that momentary delays upon

the part of those watching and following the trail should not extend

to the troops. The Indians on leaving the village had anticipated

pursuit and had adopted measures to mislead us. In order to prevent

their trail from being easily recognizable, they had departed in as

many detachments or parties almost as there were families or lodges in

the village, each party taking a different direction from the others,

having personally agreed, of course, upon the general direction and

place of reuniting. Once being satisfied that we were on the right

trail, no difficulty was found in following it as rapidly as our horses

could walk. The Indians had nearly twelve hours the start of us, but

being encumbered by their families, we hoped to overhaul them before

many days. Our first obstacle was encountered when we struck Walnut

creek, a small stream running east and west some thirty miles north

of the Arkansas at that point. The banks were so high and abrupt that

it was impossible to reach the water’s edge, let alone clamber up the

opposite bank. A few of the Indians had been able to accomplish this

feat, as was shown by the tracks on the opposite side; but the main

band had moved up stream in search of a favorable crossing, and we were

compelled to do likewise. Here we found that the Indians had called

a halt, built fires, and cooked their breakfast. So rapidly had we

gained upon them that the fires were burning freshly, and the departure

of the Indians had been so abrupt that they left several ponies with

their packs tied to trees. One of the packs belonged to a famous chief,

“Roman Nose,” who was one of those who met us at the grand gathering

just before we reached their village a few days before. One of our

Delawares who made the capture was very proud of the success, and was

soon seen ornamenting his head-dress with the bright crimson feathers

taken from the wardrobe of “Roman Nose.” Encouraged by our progress, we

continued the pursuit as rapidly as a due regard for our horses would

permit. Thus far, neither myself nor any of the soldiers had caught

sight of any Indians; but our Delaware scouts, who were constantly

in the advance and on our flanks, taking advantage of the bluffs to

reconnoitre, frequently reported that they saw small parties of Indians

observing our movements from a distance. From positive evidences,

familiar to those accustomed to the Plains, we were convinced that we

were rapidly gaining upon the Indians. The earth upturned by the feet

of their ponies and by the ends of the trailing lodge-poles, was almost

as damp and fresh as that disturbed by the horses of the command.

Soon we discovered additional signs of encouragement. The route now

became strewn with various lodge-poles and other obstacles peculiar

to an Indian’s outfit, showing that they were “lightening up” so as

to facilitate their escape. So certain did we feel of our ability to

out-trail them, that the only question now was one which has often

determined the success of military operations. Would darkness intervene

to disappoint us? We must imitate the example of the Indians, and

disembarrass ourselves of everything tending to retard our speed. The

troops would march much faster, if permitted to do so, than the rate

at which our wagons had forced themselves along. It was determined to

leave the wagons, under escort of one squadron, to follow our trail as

rapidly as they could, while the other three squadrons pushed on in

pursuit. Should darkness settle down before overtaking the Indians, the

advantage was altogether against us, as we would be compelled to await

daylight to enable us to follow the trail, while the Indians were free

to continue their flight, sheltered and aided by the darkness. By three

o’clock P. M. we felt that we were almost certain to accomplish our

purpose. No obstacle seemed to stand in our way; the trail was broad

and plain, and apparently as fresh as our own. A half hour, or an hour

at furthest, seemed only necessary to enable us to dash in upon our

wily enemy. Alas for human calculations! The Indians, by means of the

small reconnoitring parties observed by our scouts, had kept themselves

constantly informed regarding our movements and progress. They had

first risked their safety upon the superior speed and endurance of

their ponies--a safe reliance when favored by the grass season, but in

winter this advantage was on our side. Failing in their first resource,

they had a second and better method of eluding us. So long as they

kept united and moved in one body, their trail was as plainly to be

seen and as easily followed as if made by a heavily-laden wagon train.

We were not called upon to employ time and great watchfulness on the

part of our scouts to follow it. But when it was finally clear to be

seen that, in the race as it was then being run, the white man was

sure to win, the proverbial cunning of the red man came to his rescue

and thwarted the plans of his pursuers. Again dividing his tribe, as

when first setting out from the village, into numerous small parties,

we were discouraged by seeing the broad well-beaten trail suddenly

separate into hundreds of indistinct routes, leading fan-shape in as

many different directions. What was to be done?

The general direction of the main trail, before dissolving into so many

small ones, had been nearly north, showing that if undisturbed in their

flight the Indians would strike the Smoky Hill overland route, cross

it, then pursue their way northward to the headwaters of the Solomon

or Republican river, or further still, to the Platte river. Selecting

a central trail, we continued our pursuit, now being compelled often

to halt and verify our course. The trail gradually grew smaller and

smaller, until by five o’clock it had become so faint as to be followed

with the greatest difficulty. We had been marching exactly twelve hours

without halting, except to water our horses. Reluctantly we were forced

to go into camp and await the assistance of daylight. The Delaware

scouts continued the pursuit six miles further, but returned without

accomplishing anything. The Indians, after dividing up into small

parties, kept up communication with each other by means of columns of

signal smoke. These signal smokes were to be seen to the west, north,

and east of us, but none nearer than ten miles. They only proved to

us that we were probably on the trail of the main body, as the fires

were in front and on both sides of us. We had marched over thirty-five

miles without a halt. The Delawares having determined the direction

of the trail for six miles, we would be able next morning to continue

that far at least unaided by daylight. Our wagons over took us a

few hours after we reached camp. Reveille was sounded at two o’clock

the next morning, and four o’clock found us again in the saddle, and

following the guidance of our friendly Delawares. The direction of our

march took us up the valley and almost dry bed of a small stream. The

Delawares thought we might find where the Indians had encamped during

the night, by following the upward course of the stream, but in this we

were disappointed. The trail became more and more indistinct, until it

was lost in the barren waste over which we were then moving. To add to

our annoyance, the water-course had become entirely dry, and our guides

were uncertain as to whether water could be procured in one day’s

march in any direction except that from which we had come. We were,

therefore, forced to countermarch after reaching a point thirteen miles

from our starting-place in the morning, and retrace our steps until

the uncertain stream in whose valley we then were would give us water

enough for our wants.

Here I will refer to an incident entirely personal, which came very

near costing me my life. When leaving our camp that morning I felt

satisfied that the Indians, having travelled at least a portion of the

night, were then many miles in advance of us, and there was neither

danger nor probability of encountering any of them near the column.

We were then in a magnificent game country, buffalo, antelope, and

smaller game being in abundance on all sides of us. Although an ardent

sportsman, I had never hunted the buffalo up to this time, consequently

was exceedingly desirous of tasting of its excitement. I had several

fine English greyhounds, whose speed I was anxious to test with that

of the antelope, said to be--which I believe--the fleetest of animals.

I was mounted on a fine large thoroughbred horse. Taking with me but

one man, the chief bugler, and calling my dogs around me, I galloped

ahead of the column as soon as it was daylight, for the purpose of

having a chase after some antelope which could be seen grazing nearly

two miles distant. That such a course was rashly imprudent I am ready

to admit. A stirring gallop of a few minutes brought me near enough to

the antelope, of which there were a dozen or more, to enable the dogs

to catch sight of them. Then the chase began, the antelope running in

a direction which took us away from the command. By availing myself

of the turns in the course, I was able to keep well in view of the

exciting chase, until it was evident that the antelope were in no

danger of being caught by the dogs, which latter had become blown from

want of proper exercise. I succeeded in calling them off, and was

about to set out on my return to the column. The horse of the chief

bugler, being a common-bred animal, failed early in the race, and his

rider wisely concluded to regain the command, so that I was alone. How

far I had travelled from the troops I was trying to determine, when I

discovered a large, dark-looking animal grazing nearly a mile distant.

As yet I had never seen a wild buffalo, but I at once recognized this

as not only a buffalo, but a very large one. Here was my opportunity. A

ravine near by would enable me to approach unseen until almost within

pistol range of my game. Calling my dogs to follow me, I slowly pursued

the course of the ravine, giving my horse opportunity to gather himself

for the second run. When I emerged from the ravine I was still several

hundred yards from the buffalo, which almost instantly discovered me,

and set off as fast as his legs could carry him. Had my horse been

fresh the race would have been a short one, but the preceding long run

had not been without effect. How long or how fast we flew in pursuit,

the intense excitement of the chase prevented me from knowing. I only

knew that even the greyhounds were left behind, until finally my good

steed placed himself and me close alongside the game. It may be because

this was the first I had seen, but surely of the hundreds of thousands

of buffaloes which I have since seen, none have corresponded with him

in size and lofty grandeur. My horse was above the average size, yet

the buffalo towered even above him. I had carried my revolver in my

hand from the moment the race began. Repeatedly could I have placed

the muzzle against the shaggy body of the huge beast, by whose side I

fairly yelled with wild excitement and delight, yet each time would

I withdrawn the weapon, as if to prolong the enjoyment of the race.

It was a race for life or death, yet how different the award from

what could be imagined. Still we sped over the springy turf, the high

breeding and mettle of my horse being plainly visible over that of the

huge beast that struggled by his side. Mile after mile was traversed

in this way, until the rate and distance began to tell perceptibly

on the bison, whose protruding tongue and labored breathing plainly

betrayed his distress. Determined to end the chase and bring down my

game, I again placed the muzzle of the revolver close to the body

of the buffalo, when, as if divining my intention, and feeling his

inability to escape by flight, he suddenly determined to fight, and

at once wheeled, as only a buffalo can, to gore my horse. So sudden

was this movement, and so sudden was the corresponding veering of my

horse to avoid the attack, that to retain my control over him I hastily

brought up my pistol hand to the assistance of the other. Unfortunately

as I did so my finger, in the excitement of the occasion, pressed the

trigger, discharged the pistol, and sent the fatal ball into the very

brain of the noble animal I rode. Running at full speed he fell dead in

the course of his leap. Quick as thought I disengaged myself from the

stirrups and found myself whirling through the air over and beyond the

head of my horse. My only thought, as I was describing this trajectory,

and my first thought on reaching _terra firma_, was, “What will the

buffalo do with me?” Although at first inclined to rush upon me, my

strange procedure seemed to astonish him. Either that, or pity for the

utter helplessness of my condition, inclined him to alter his course

and leave me alone to my own bitter reflections.

In a moment the danger into which I had unluckily brought myself stood

out in bold relief before me. Under ordinary circumstances the death

of my horse would have been serious enough. I was strongly attached to

him; had ridden him in battle during a portion of the late war; yet now

his death, except in its consequences, was scarcely thought of. Here

I was, alone in the heart of the Indian country, with warlike Indians

known to be in the vicinity. I was not familiar with the country. How

far I had travelled, or in what direction from the column, I was at a

loss to know. In the excitement of the chase I had lost all reckoning.

Indians were liable to pounce upon me at any moment. My command would

not note my absence probably for hours. Two of my dogs overtook me,

and with mute glances first at the dead steed, then at me, seemed

to inquire the cause of this strange condition of affairs. Their

instinct appeared to tell them that we were in misfortune. While I was

deliberating what to do, the dogs became uneasy, whined piteously, and

seemed eager to leave the spot. In this desire I sympathized with them,

but whither should I go? I observed that their eyes were generally

turned in one particular direction; this I accepted as my cue, and with

one parting look at my horse, and grasping a revolver in each hand, I

set out on my uncertain journey. As long as the body of my horse was

visible above the horizon, I kept referring to it as my guiding point,

and in this way contrived to preserve my direction. This resource soon

failed me, and I then had recourse to weeds, buffalo skulls, or any

two objects I could find on my line of march. Constantly my eyes kept

scanning the horizon, each moment expecting, and with reason too, to

find myself discovered by Indians.

I had travelled in this manner what seemed to me about three or four

miles, when far ahead in the distance I saw a column of dust rising. A

hasty examination soon convinced me that the dust was produced by one

of three causes: white men, Indians, or buffalo. Two to one in my favor

at any rate. Selecting a ravine where I could crawl away undiscovered

should the approaching body prove to be Indians, I called my dogs to

my side and concealed myself as well as I could to await developments.

The object of my anxious solicitude was still several miles distant.

Whatever it was, it was approaching in my direction, as was plainly

discernible from the increasing columns of dust. Fortunately I had my

field-glass slung across my shoulder, and if Indians I could discover

them before they could possibly discover me. Soon I was able to see

the heads of mounted men running in irregular order. This discovery

shut out the probability of their being buffaloes, and simplified the

question to white men or Indians. Never during the war did I scan an

enemy’s battery or approaching column with half the anxious care with

which I watched the party then approaching me. For a long time nothing

satisfactory could be determined, until my eye caught sight of an

object which, high above the heads of the approaching riders, told me

in unmistakable terms that friends were approaching. It was the cavalry

guidon, and never was the sight of stars and stripes more welcome. My

comrades were greatly surprised to find me seated on the ground alone

and without my horse. A few words explained all. A detachment of my

men, following my direction, found my horse and returned with the

saddle and other equipments. Another horse, and Richard was himself

again, plus a little valuable experience, and minus a valuable horse.

In retracing our steps later in the day, in search of water sufficient

for camping purposes, we marched over nine miles of our morning route,

and at two P. M. of April 16 we went into camp. From this point I wrote

a despatch to General Hancock and sent it back by two of my scouts, who

set out on their journey as soon as it was dark. It was determined to

push on and reach the Smoky Hill route as soon as possible, and give

the numerous stage stations along that route notice of the presence of

warlike Indians. This was before the Pacific Railroad or its branches

had crossed the Plains. Resting our animals from two until seven P. M.,

we were again in the saddle and setting out for a night march, our only

guide being the north star. We hoped to strike the stage route near a

point called Downie’s Station. After riding all night we reached and

crossed about daylight the Smoky Hill river, along whose valley the

stage route runs. The stations were then from ten to fifteen miles

apart; if Indians had crossed this line at any point the station men

would be informed of it. To get information as to this, as well as

to determine where we were, an officer with one company was at once

despatched on this mission. This party had scarcely taken its departure

and our pickets been posted, before the entire command of tired, sleepy

cavalrymen, scouts, and Delawares had thrown themselves on the ground

and were wrapped in the deepest slumber. We had slept perhaps an hour

or more, yet it seemed but a few moments, when an alarm shot from the

lookout and the startling cry of “Indians!” brought the entire command

under arms.