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a jump. They well knew the custom of the Indians to stampede a herd at break of day, and the boys had fixed for them before retiring. Several of the lead animals were hobbled side and fore so they could not run.

“With the train there was a man, German by birth, whom they called 'Dutch Jake.' He had an old white horse. I advised him to put his horse with the herd. This he refused to do, and said he would take care of his own horse.

So he took him some fifty yards from camp and picketed him to a small tree, and spread his blanket down by the tree. When I returned at 7 p. m., all was still and quiet in camp. Having gone without sleep the previous night, and made a long ride, I was tired and soon fell asleep. I was awakened by the alarm clock going off in the wagon-master's bed. In five minutes all hands, including myself, were up and dressed. The fact was that but little undressing was done. Every man had his rifle by his side and his revolver in his belt, so when we got up we could get up shooting if necessary. We watched for the noble red man, who did not come but had been. I noticed that the Dutchman's horse was missing. I called Jack, the wagon-master, and said, 'Jack, the Indians have got the Dutchman's horse.' He said, 'It served the fool Dutchman right, he knew so much.

As soon as it got a little light, the Dutchman went to the end of the picket rope, which had been cut. He at once discovered prints of bare feet. He said, 'Who has been out here mit his bare feet on?' I said, 'Indians.' Then he kicked himself and talked broken English mixed with Dutch. Finally, as it got fairly light, he

spied his old white horse on the side of the mountain, near the head of the little bushy rocky canyon. "There is my horse, mein Gott,' he exclaimed. He soon got his gun and revolver on and started for his horse. I told him to come back, and each teamster and the wagon-master advised him to stop with the train, but go he would. We all saw the trap and I watched the poor fellow climbing to be shot. The herd came in, and by this time the Dutchman had reached a little open space near his horse, when he suddenly stopped, fired his rifle, and gave a peculiar moan and yell. I well remember the different expressions made by the boys. One said, *The Dutchman has got his dose.' Another remarked : We will have Jake for breakfast. We will mix a little Indian with Dutch.' After dropping his gun the poor fellow made fast time for camp. One of the boys said, 'He doesn't want his horse.' Another said, 'He'll have no further use for a horse, he won't get back.' The poor Dutchman got within thirty yards of camp and fell. I got hold of a canteen of water and ran to assist him, but he was dead. I pulled six arrows out of his back and sides. The blood ran out of his mouth and nose.

“While looking at the dead man I heard a little stir in camp. I looked up and saw all the horses saddled (we could not depend upon a mule in a fight). My horse was also saddled. I inquired what was up. Jack said, “We are going after Mister Indian.' I said, 'Let me go too." "No, you stay in camp, they may attack

" yet,’ Jack, the wagon-master, said. “I will take Dick, Tom and Joe, and take to the left for that open ground beyond. Sam, you take those other

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three boys and climb up that open ridge to the right, and get there, you know.' These men threw themselves into the saddle and rode the horses up the rocky steep in remarkably quick time. The Indian, when he gets hold of a horse, hates to lose him again. They had double hobbled the Dutchman's horse, and tied him to a tree, so the horse could not be easily freed. As the Indians saw the boys coming two of them attempted to free the horse and ride him away, but Sam was too quick for them. He rode to within about one hundred yards of the horse and dismounted, and left one man to hold the horses. The other three opened fire just as one Indian had got on the horse, and the other was climbing on. Result, both Indians were instantly killed. I then heard Jack fire. He had dismounted and left one man to hold the horses, and the three opened fire on the red devils as they skedaddled through the brush. I had not eyes enough. I could not see all that was going on at

I enjoyed the sport hugely. “Sam soon got back to camp. He had peeled the scalps from the two Indians he had killed. He also had their bows and quivers of arrows. These scalps were fastened to the bridles of the lead mules or forward team, and the long black hair would wave and frizzle around. These scalps had to be taken as a sort of voucher that good Indians had actually been made. Jack soon returned to camp without scalps. He reported: “As soon as I dismounted, I saw a big Indian dressed in buckskin, with a feather in his cap, painted black. He was not fifty yards from me and seemed to be giving orders. I put my rifle to my face and pulled for his heart. At

once.

the crack of my rifle he jumped about three feet in the air, gave a whoop and fell, and began crawling off into the brush. Several other Indians came to his assistance, so I got one more fair shot, and the boys all got two good shots each.

“ 'I think that old fellow was a chief,' Jack continued. 'I would like to have had his scalp, but did not care to crawl around in the brush to hunt dead or wounded Indians, as I well know that as long as there is life in an Indian he will fight back. He is like a wounded wolf or bear.'

“During all this time the cook had been perfectly oblivious of what was going on. He had cooked breakfast; the balance of the teamsters had harnessed up and fed the teams, and a man had set at work and dug a shallow grave. The Dutchman was wrapped in his blanket and buried under a large juniper tree, without ceremony or prayers. It would have frightened a tramp to have heard some of the remarks that were made at that breakfast.

“When breakfast was over, Jack said: “We have the start of the Indians, and there must be over a hundred at least around our camp. Our trouble is not yet over, for they may try to retaliate, but we will keep on the safe side.'

"I was ready to obey orders, and so informed the wagon-master. Said he: “We may be attacked in the canyon ahead. You take those three men and follow the rear of the train, and I will take these other men and keep along ahead on the side of the canyon, so I can defend the advance.'

“We went all right for three or four miles, when I heard Jack's rifle crack, and a 'whoa' all along the line. I jumped on a rock and saw the sport. Jack had scared a fine buck out of the thicket, and about the second jump the buck made, Jack shot him through the heart. The buck made a few more jumps, and fell in the road not five feet ahead of the lead team, dead. The team started to turn and stampede, but a little help from the cook stopped them, and got them around all right. The entrails were taken out of the deer, and its carcass thrown on the wagon to be served for supper.

"Again we started down the rough road. Soon Jack and one of his men fired four or five times. Again I looked and found they had killed two wild turkeys. These were also thrown on the wagon.

“About two p. m., we came to a little prairie and a small spring of cold water. We camped and turned in. I at once wrapped myself in my blanket and fell asleep, only to awake suddenly. I dreamed I was in an Indian fight and got shot, and as I jumped up the boys had a good laugh. However, I soon got to sleep again. At 6 p. m., I was awakened for supper. We had venison, roast; broiled and stewed turkey a la campfire. I was hungry, and particularly hungry for wild meat, and I got outside of an immense quantity of this choice fat game. Is there a man living who has spent a few years on the frontier, or even went out on a hunt and cooked by a camp fire that does not relish choice game when cooked to order to suit his taste?

“After supper was over and night came on, I saddled my horse and rode to Prescott, a distance of about forty-five miles, arriving in Prescott before daylight.

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