On the arrival of Mr. Campbell and party we packed up and were off to the waters of the Gila. Our crowd consisted of Green Campbell, of Missouri; Thomas Freeman and David Roberts, of Illinois, and Marlow Pease, of Massachusetts.

I took three saddle horses with me and they each took a saddle horse and three extra horses belonging to the company. We did not lose any time getting across the main divide. Being late in the fall we had great fear of becoming snow-bound on the trip. We left the head of the Arkansas river some fifty miles to the north so as to be able to cross the river without having the snow to encounter. After we were across the main divide I told them there would be no danger of being snowed, in now, So they would stop occasionally from half a day to three days in a place to prospect what they called the most favorable looking places for the yellow metal and most generally finding a little gold, but not as they considered in paying quantities, and while they were prospecting it was my business to scout all around the camp to prevent a surprise party by the reds and to kill game to live on.

We arrived at the Gila, striking the middle fork a little more southwest than I had ever been before. I told them we were now in the Apache country and that those were the worst Indians we had to contend with. We found a nice place for a camp and Mr. Campbell proposed to build a log cabin in order to protect ourselves against the Indians, but I told them I thought they had better prospect a week or ten days first, and if they found it to pay them we could build a cabin, and in the mean time I would try and locate the Indians and watch their movements.

The first four or five days I didn't go very far away, but made an entire circuit of the camp every day. After being here five or six days, I struck out in a southwesterly direction, intending to go about ten or fifteen miles from camp.

Up to this time I had not seen any fresh Indian sign whatever, and had about concluded that we would not have any trouble this winter with them. After riding about ten miles or so I came to a nice little brook, and there being fine grass, I stopped and let my horse feed for an hour or more. I was riding my old Pinto that day and he was also feeling fine.

About one o'clock I mounted Pinto and started south, striking for a high mountain, from which if I could once reach the top, I could, with the aid of my glasses, see all over the entire country. While climbing this mountain I ran on to a bear cub. Seeing that he was very fat, I shot him and lashed him behind my saddle, and was soon climbing the mountain again, which was, in places, steep and very rocky, with scattering pine trees here and there. After going about a half a mile and just as I came to the top of a steep little pitch, I came face to face with a band of Apache Indians. I did not take time to count them, but thought there were about eighteen or twenty of them, I fired four shots in quick succession. The first two shots I killed two Indians, but the other two I could not tell whether I got my men or not, as I was just in the act of turning my horse when I fired. They fired a perfect shower of arrows at me. To run back down the mountain the way I came was a matter of impossibility, as it was both steep and rocky, so I took around the side of the mountain, thinking that I would be able in a few moments' run to reach the top of the mountain, where I could have a better show to defend myself.

I had to ride all over my horse to avoid the arrows, first on one side, hanging by one foot and one hand, then on the other side.

I had not run more than one hundred yards until I knew there was something wrong with my horse, for he had always before seemed to know when I was in a tight place and seemed eager to carry me out of danger. I gave him the spurs three or four times but he did not increase his speed in the least, and then I knew well that he had been shot, and it always seemed a miracle to me that I went through all that and did not get shot also.

It is quite useless for me to say I thought my time had come. On looking ahead some fifty yards I saw a pile of rocks about four or five feet high, which I made a bee line for. Getting to the rock pile I dismounted and ran between two large rocks where poor old Pinto tried to follow me, but he received two more arrows in his hip and one in his flank. He fell to the ground, and after falling raised his head, and looking toward me, whinnied.

The poor faithful old fellow lay there and would whinny for me at intervals as long as he lived, which was perhaps half an hour. The reader can fancy my condition just at this time. Here I was almost surrounded by hostile Indians and the only friend that I had with me dead. I did not expect to ever get away from there, for I expected that while a part of the Indians guarded me the balance would go off and rally reinforcements.

I had made up my mind to fight them to the last and kill as many as I could before they got me. They made three desperate charges for me before dark, but as luck would have it I was always loaded for them. I piled up rocks as I could get them loose in a manner to give me protection from every quarter, but expected they would reinforce and attempt to starve me out.

Just as it was getting dark, two of the Indians crawled up to within thirty feet of my rock pen. I was watching them, and just as they rose up to fire I fired and brought one of them to the ground, thereby making another good Apache. The other one ran away, and it being somewhat dark, I did not get him.

This made the fifth Indian I had killed since I had been in my little rock pen and I had fired eleven shots. After it was good and dark I made up my mind that I would get out of there sometime during the night, for to remain there till the morrow only meant death, and I might as well lose my life in trying to get away that night as to remain there and be killed the next day. I felt sure they had a guard around me, but I made up my mind to make a desperate effort to get away. I crawled to where my dead horse was laying, which was only a few feet from my rock house, cut the latigo, removed my saddle from the dead horse, lashed it to my back, taking the mochilar or covering for a saddle, which I have described heretofore, I took my knife and cut a hole in the front portion of the mochila where the pommel of the saddle protrudes, so that I was able to stick my head through. The mochila was good as a shield, for an arrow would not go through it except at very short range. I cut the reins off of the bridle, and as the bit was a very heavy one, I thought it would answer pretty well as a sling shot in close quarters.

I had no idea of getting out without a desperate fight with ninety-nine chances against me to one in my favor. After I had my rig complete I started to crawl away flat on the ground like a snake, I would crawl for a short distance, then stop and listen. It was very dark, there being no moon in the fore part of the night. I was expecting every minute to feel an arrow or a tomahawk in my head. After working my way down the hill some hundred yards or so, I came to a tree and raised up by the side of it. I stood and listened for some time, but could not hear anything of the Indians, so I struck out in the direction of camp, walking very cautiously for some little distance.

After traveling about six miles I felt comparatively safe, knowing they could not do anything toward tracking me until morning and did not think they would even be able to track me then.

I passed over a great deal of rocky country where there was but little vegetation. Finally I laid down to wait until morning, and I must say that I never had been out in all my life when I actually longed for daylight to come as I did that long and lonely night, and I believe that I would freely have given five hundred dollars to have had a man there with me that night; not that I was afraid of Indians, for I considered that I had given them the slip, and did not believe they would be able to overtake me before I would reach camp even though they should be able to track me the next morning.

I thought of my dying horse who had been such a faithful servant and carried me out of so many tight places, and when I would think of him I could fancy that I could see him raise his head and whinny at me as he had done that evening in his dying moments, seemingly asking me for help, and I could not keep the tears from my eyes. As soon as it was light I started for camp, arriving there about ten o'clock that morning. The men in camp had given me up and did not expect to ever see me any more, thinking that the Apaches had got me. I told the men that we would have to leave this part of the country now, and that too, just as soon as I could get a bite to eat and get my saddle repaired. While the boys pulled up and started to move camp I saddled up another horse and took my back track, traveling very cautiously, thinking they would try to follow me out, and I wanted to watch their movements and see whether they had reinforced or not. I told the boys to move northeast and where to camp, the place being ten miles from where we were then, and not to build any fire that night, also that I would be in camp some time before morning this time, I was very cautious not to be surprised the second time. I rode back within a mile of where my dead horse lay, but could not see any Indians, so I finally concluded that it had been a small hunting party, and seeing that they could not scare me out of my rock pen by their ferocious charges, accompanied by a war-whoop that would make the hair stand on the bravest mountaineer's head, they had abandoned the idea altogether and had no doubt left the ground before I started to crawl away from my rock pen, which had been the means of saving me from falling their victim.

I returned to camp, arriving shortly after dark. We moved north, the men prospecting the country as we went and I scouting, keeping a sharp lookout to prevent a surprise party, but we did not see any more Indians during the entire winter. We struck the Colorado river at the mouth of the Green river.

Mr. Campbell concluded that he would go to southern Nevada; taking a southwesterly course from Green river, I piloted them about one hundred miles and they now being in a country where they were perfectly safe as far as hostile Indians were concerned, I left the party, and the most of them it has never been my pleasure to meet since. I met one of the party by the name of Freeman in Seattle in the year of 1889. At that time he was settled down in his old neighborhood in Illinois and had a wife and five children. I can truthfully say that I never met five better and more agreeable men to travel with in all my career than those men were. While with them I never saw one of them apparently out of humor with his companions or heard one use any kind of language than that of a gentleman. Leaving the party I struck for Salt Lake City. I had no trouble in finding the way, or otherwise, and arrived at Fort Douglas about the first of March.

On arriving here I found General Connor just making preparations to move with almost his entire force against the Ute Indians, who at this time were concentrating their forces in Cash Valley, and committing a great many depredations in that part of the country.

Gen. Connor offered me a position as scout, which I accepted, and on the sixth day after my arrival at Fort Douglas, in company with two other scouts, I struck out in advance of the command. In the forenoon of the eighth day from the fort we found the Indians on a tributary of Cash Valley in a deep canyon and fortified. They had cut logs and rolled them down the hill, piling them on each side of the canyon, several feet high and had intermingled them with brush. This was the first fortification I had ever seen built by Indians.

We returned and met the command that night, and when we were making our report to the General he asked me what the fortifications looked like. I told him that I could not think of anything to compare them to, but that I thought they could be swept very easily by a Howitzer from above and below. He asked me if I would accompany one of his commissioned officers that night to see the fortifications, and I told him I would. After supper that evening a Captain came to me, whose name I am sorry to say I have forgotten, and asked me if I was the man that was to accompany him to the Indian fortifications. I told him that I was, and he asked what time we had better start. I told him we had better start at once as there would be a moon in the fore part of the night, but that the after part would be very dark. So we mounted our horses and were off.

We rode to within about three-quarters of a mile of the fortifications and there we remained until it was light enough to see, and then the Captain took out his glasses and scanned the whole country as well as the fortifications. After looking about half an hour the Captain asked me what I thought of it, and what would be my plan of attack. I told him that I had no idea, as I had never seen Indians fortified before. He said it would be a bloody fight, I said yes, but I thought the blood would all be on one side. "Yes," replied the Captain, "we ought to clean them out without losing ten men."

We went to our horses, mounted, and rode back to the command as quick as we could, meeting it about four miles from the fortifications, piloted by the two scouts that had been out with me the day before.

The Captain and Gen. Connor had a long conversation as we moved along. When within a mile of the mouth of this canyon Gen. Connor formed his men in line, one half to go on each side of the canyon in which the Indians were fortified, and the cannon were placed at the mouth of the canyon.

I did not see any Indians of any account until the command to fire was given. When the soldiers commenced to fire--there being about twelve hundred--it frightened the Indians so that they came running out from under those logs and brush like jack rabbits and were shot down like sheep. In all my experience in the Western wilds I never saw such a slaughtering as there.

The Indians had been taught by the Mormons that if they would fortify themselves in that way the whites could not harm them, teaching them also, that the Lord would protect them, which was a great thing for the white people, for it came so near cleaning the Utes up that there was only a little remnant left, and they never gave the white people any more trouble. Thus white people were enabled to pass through that country unmolested. Heretofore it had been one of the most dangerous parts of the country. For all this I have ever since believed that the Mormons, unintentionally, did the Gentiles a great favor.

After the battle was over, and as scouts are at liberty to go where they please, I rode over the battle-field in company with the other scouts and I never in all my life saw such a mangled up mass as was there. Men, women and children were actually lying in heaps, and I think all that got away were a few that hid among the logs and brush.

I n this battle the Captain told me they did not lose a man, and had only four wounded, while he counted over three thousand dead Indians.

When I returned to Salt Lake City I was astonished to see the manner in which the Salt Lake papers abused Gen. Connor for slaughtering the Indians in the manner he had, when they (the Mormons) had planned the slaughter, although not meaning for it to be a slaughter of Indians.

Gen. Connor said that the Mormons had thought that the Indians would fortify themselves, and when attacked by the soldiers, they would wipe them (the soldiers) off the face of the earth. The idea had been so thoroughly instilled into the minds of the Indians by the Mormons that the Lord would protect them if only fortified in this manner that they depended most altogether on the Lord to protect them.

The third day on our return trip we came to a little place called Ogden. Here the General made preparations to leave the command and go ahead, accompanied by one company, of cavalry. When they were ready I was directed to accompany him, which I did. He and I rode in the rear of the company. After riding some little distance Gen. Connor said: "Drannan, I think I can put you on the track of a good thing if it would suit you." I asked him in what way. He asked me if I had not heard of the Mountain Meadow massacre in Utah. I said: "Certainly, many times." He said: "Now be honest with me and tell me who you think did that horrible work." I told him the Mormons, and the Mormons alone.

He then told me there was a man at the fort from Chicago trying to work up the case and if possible to find out just by whose authority the Mormons had massacred those emigrants, and he said: "From what I have seen of you, I think you would be just the man to help him work up the case."

I said: "General, I think you are mistaken. I never did any detective work among the white people, and I fear I am not good enough a talker to obtain the desired information." The General said: "All right, we'll see."

We reached the Fort that night at dark, having ridden forty miles that day. That evening the General told me to come to his quarters the following day at ten o'clock and he would introduce me to the gentleman referred to.

I went to the General's quarters and the gentleman was present. His name was Howard. By whose authority he was working up this case I never learned, but, however, after questioning me for some time as to what I knew of the Mormons, he asked me what I would charge him per month to go along with him, play the hypocrite, and try to help work up the case. I told him it was all new work to me; that I knew nothing of detective work whatever. I said that if it were a case of Indians it would be quite different, but I did not think I would be of much service to him working among the Mormons.

He proposed that he would furnish me a suit of clothes suitable for the part I was to play, furnish money to pay my expenses, such as hotel bills, whiskey bills, ball-room bills, and pay me fifty dollars per month, I to do as he told me, or as near as I could. "And, at the end of one month," said he, "if your work does not suit me, or if I don't suit you, I can pay you off and you can go your way; or if you stay and we work up this case as I anticipate, as soon as the work is completed I will pay you one hundred dollars per month instead of fifty."

Under these conditions I went to work for him, and the next two days were spent in drilling me on Mormon phrases, their customs And so on, he having been there some three months, had got pretty well posted on the Mormon doctrine.

When I got my new suit of clothes on and he got my hair fixed up just to suit him I looked in the mirror, and I could hardly believe that it was Will Drannan.

The third day we mounted our horses and started across the country to a little town called Provo, which is about forty miles from Salt Lake, if I have not forgotten. Here, we are both Mormons, are brothers, and our business buying cattle; looking around to see who has cattle to sell. We arrived at Provo on Sunday evening and made the acquaintance of two young men who were Mormons. They asked us to go to church with them. "All right," said Mr. Howard, "but where will my brother and I stay to-night?" The eldest of the two young men said: "One of you can stay with me and the other can stay with Jim," referring to his chum. So it fell to my lot to go with Jim after church.

On oar way to church, naturally enough the boys asked our names, and Howard spoke up and said: "My name is George Howard, and this is my brother Frank." And I will tell you new with all candor I did not feel right over this, for it was the first time in my life that I had ever lived under an assumed name, but I had agreed to do what I could, and although I would have given the best horse I had to have been out of the scrape, yet I was into it and I was determined to go through with it if possible. That evening when we came out of church Jim gave me an introduction to his two sisters and they asked me to walk home with them from church, and I did so.

After conversing with them for some time and getting a little acquainted with them, I asked the girl on my left how old she was, and she said she was seventeen. I asked her how long she had lived in this country. She said: "My father was one of the first settlers in this country. He came here among the first emigrants and I was raised here in this country."

"Is that so?" I asked. "Then you were here in this part of the country at the time of the Mountain Meadow massacre?" "Yes," said she, "but you know we must not talk about that." "Well," said I, "you know they were all Gentiles that were killed and what's the difference?" "Well," she said, "I think it was all wrong any way."

I asked her if her father was in that fight and she said: "Let's don't talk about that, please don't ask me any more questions about it."

By this time we had reached the gate, and the conversation stopped for that time. The next day I tried to get a chance to talk to her, but my efforts were all in vain. That afternoon I met Howard and told him of the conversation I had with the young lady, and he insisted on my working on her father if I could get a chance to have a private conversation with her.

On Wednesday night there was to be a big dance at the church, and it being free to all, we attended it. In the mean time I had engaged the company of those two young ladies for the dance. I paid all due respect to the young lady, but did not mention the affair of which I was desirous of obtaining information until we were returning from supper to the church, when I again made mention of the affair in such a manner that I did not think she would suspect anything wrong. But she gave me to understand in plain language that she would not converse on that subject under any circumstances.

I saw there was no use to waste any more time with her and did not mention the subject again.

We remained in this place ten days, during which time I formed the acquaintence of an old man by the name of Snyder, who had five wives, three of them living at his residence in the town and the other two on his farm in the country. Being a brother Mormon, Mr. Snyder one day during my stay there invited me home with him for dinner, and on entering the dining room he introduced me to his three wives, the youngest of the three being about twenty years old, while Snyder was sixty-one years old.

That afternoon Howard and myself were taking a walk, and by chance met this young Mrs. Snyder, whom I introduced to my brother. He asked to accompany her on her walk, to which proposition she unhesitatingly assented, and he walked on home with him.

Her husband was not at home, but before Howard left the gate he heard one of Snyder's other wives say to her: "I'll tell on you, and you will not get to go out again."

This convinced him that there was a great deal of jealousy existing between Mr. Snyder's wives. He said she was well posted in everything pertaining to the Mormon doctrine, and at the same time bitterly opposed to their proceedings.

The afternoon following George Howard and I took a stroll down to Salt Lake City, which was a distance of three miles.

We had been in the city but a short time and were walking up Main street, when on casting my eyes across the street I saw old man Snyder standing talking to Porter Rockwell and Bill Hickman. They were just across Main street immediately opposite us, and George had not yet got sight of them. Those two men were supposed to be Brigham Young's "destroying angels," and their business was to put any one out of the way who had fallen under the ban of the Mormon Church.

These two men had been pointed out to me before, and as soon as I got sight of them I said in a low tone: "There are the leaders of the Danites."

When he looked across at them old man Snyder was pointing his finger direct at us, and Rockwell and Hickman seemed to be very eager to get a good look at us.

George said: "This is no place for us. Let's get back to the Fort." And all the talking I could do I could not make him believe that we were perfectly safe there in the city in broad daylight. His very countenance showed uneasiness to extremity. He had been there long enough to be thoroughly posted in all their laws, customs, etc., and didn't seem to think it would be healthy for us there from that time on. However, I can truthfully say that we made the trip to the Fort in much less time than we did from the Fort to town, notwithstanding it was all up grade.

On our arrival at the Fort we went to Gen. Connor's quarters and told him the whole story just as it occurred. The General said: "The thing is up with you now Howard, you might as well quit and go home. You can do no more good here now. You are perfectly safe here in the Fort, but the moment you are out of sight of it you are in danger of your life. But you will have one company of cavalry to protect you when you go to leave the Fort."

It was really laughable to see the way Howard would tremble and shake while Gen. Connor was talking to him, and he was anxious to get out of the country and wanted me to go with him, it being the wrong time of year to catch a train going East. He thought if he could get to Fort Bridger, which was one hundred miles east of Fort Douglas, he would be safe from the Mormons, and would stand equally as good a show to strike a train going eastward as he would at Salt Lake.

Before we were ready to start for Fort Bridger there came a man to Fort Douglas who had been wagon boss for Maj. Russell the year before. He had just received a letter from his former employer requesting him to come at once to Fort Kearney. He was anxious to find some one to travel with, as it was not safe for one to travel alone in that country, and it was a long and tedious trip this time of year.

The Pony Express was then running, but outside of that we were not likely to see any one on the trip

They insisted on me accompanying them, and being anxious to cross over on the other side of the mountains, I agreed to join them. Having two saddle horses myself I told them three horses between them would be enough, for in case of emergency I would use one of my horses for a pack animal. The next two days were spent in getting ready for the trip, Mr. Damson, the wagon boss, having procured three horses for himself and Howard, Mr. Howard thinking it might not be conducive to his health to leave the Fort to look for horses.

Getting everything in readiness, we made the start just at dark, going the Emigrant canyon route, striking Echo canyon fifty miles from Salt Lake City, making the trip that far without stopping to let our horses feed or even to eat anything ourselves. We did this because we wished to get beyond the Mormon settlements without being discovered by them. We reached Fort Bridget the third day and there took in two more companions, John Scudder and John Korigo, who had been at work at the Fort all winter hauling wood for the Government. They had earned a little money and were returning to their respective homes, one living in Missouri and the other in Pennsylvania. We were now five in number and calculated to make Fort Kearney in fifteen days. which, if I remember rightly, is called six hundred miles from Fort Bridger.

We crossed Green river and took the Bitter creek route, thinking that would be the safest from hostile Indians; but when we got to the head of Bitter creek the Pony Express rider informed us that the Indians were very bad on the North Platte river, having killed two express riders the week before.

This frightened the boys badly, for not one of them had ever been engaged in an Indian fight, and all were free to admit that they were not hankering after experience of that kind.

After we struck North Platte we saw considerable Indian sign every day, but it was evident that the reds were in little bands.

From now on we made a dry camp every night, always stopping in the middle of the afternoon to let our horses graze while we did our cooking to avoid building our fire after dark. Then we would mount and ride until after dark and make a dry camp. This was done in order to avoid an attack while in camp, but we made the entire trip without seeing an Indian.

On my arrival at Fort Kearney I met my old friend Jim Bridger, who was waiting there for a man by the name of Jim Boseman, who was on his way with a large train of emigrants to the eastern part of Montana, the same country that Bridger, Kit Carson, Beckwith and I passed through in 1856 when the Indians were so bad.

Jim Bridger had met Boseman the fall before and had promised to pilot him through to that part of Montana, for which he was to receive five hundred dollars, it also being understood that, there would be at least fifty men in the train and all well armed.

Bridger was just in receipt of a letter from Boseman stating that he would be there on or about a certain date with two hundred men, most all of whom had families.

Jim was very anxious to have me join him, offering to divide the spoils.

I told him it would be folly for me to accompany him, as he would be able to handle the train alone and would then have the five hundred dollars himself, and furthermore, I did not care for work of that kind that summer, as I would rather return to Taos and buy a band of sheep and settle down, for I thought I had enough money, if properly handled, to make me a good living.

At this Jim laughed heartily and said: "Yes, you'll settle down with a band of sheep when you are too old to straddle a horse and your eyes too dim to take in an Indian. I have often thought of the same thing," he continued. "I have a place picked out now about fifteen miles east of Fort Bridger on Black's Fork, near the lone tree. There is where I am going to settle down after I make this trip. I can then sit in my door and with a good glass I can see Fort Bridger that was named for me and which I feel proud of to-day."

Jim Bridger made this trip north with Boseman's train into the valley where the town of Boseman now stands, without the loss of a man or beast on the entire trip, and returning to South Platte, married an Indian woman of the Arappahoe tribe, went to Black's Fork and took up a ranch within five miles of the lone pine tree. Here he lived with his Indian wife for about five years. when she died, leaving two children, a girl and a boy, which I have been told he sent to school, gave them a good education, and they now live, I think, in the state of Missouri.

While I was at Fort Kearney another long train of emigrants came along, en-route for Bannock, Montana. They did not know just where Bannock was, and through the influence of Jim Bridger and Gen. Kearney, I was offered employment in guiding them at seventy-five dollars per month, with provisions.

I told them I did not know where Bannock was, but that I could take them to any portion of Montana they asked to go, I was not long making the bargain and making preparations to get started. We went back over the same road as far as Fort Bridger that I had come only a short time before. There was not a person in the entire train that had ever seen a hostile Indian, and very few of them had ever traveled outside of their own state. The most of them were from Indiana, and most of the men had families, and I presume they were fleeing from the draft; that being the time of the late war.

I experienced a great deal of trouble in getting those people organized and trained in a manner to enable us to protect ourselves against the hostile Indians.

In this train there were two negros, whose names were Joe and Bab. Joe was driving a team for his grub and Bab was cooking for two families for his grub. The people of the train fell into the habit of calling me Captain, and every time I would ride along where this Joe or Bab were, they would invariably salute me by lifting their hats or by taking them off entirely and then they would say: "Marse Capting, de ye see any Injuns?"

One day my scouts came in from the south and reported seeing a band of Indians, about ten or fifteen in number, two miles away and coming direct for the train. I struck out alone at full speed in that direction to ascertain what kind of Indians they were, there being another man whose business it was to take charge of the train at any time I was away, and in case of an attack or danger of such, it was his business to corral the train and prepare for battle.

I had only gone a half mile when I met the Indians, and they proved to be Arapahoes. I was personally acquainted with all of them and asked them to go to the train with me, telling them it was just over the ridge. This they agreed to do, saying: "We will go to the train and then all will go out and kill some buffalo this evening."

We rode leisurely along until in sight of the train, and the moment the people saw me riding with the Indians on each side of me, they felt sure that I had been taken prisoner, and all the hustling and bustling around to get those wagons corralled, beat anything I had ever seen, and they were all so badly excited that it was no use to try to hello at them.

They were afraid to shoot at the Indians for fear they might shoot me, or if they did not shoot me, they were afraid that if they should shoot the Indians they would retaliate by shooting me down.

The wagons being corralled, we rode around the entire train. I left the Indians and rode inside of the corral and told the people that these were peaceable Indians and were all friends of mine, and that I wanted every man, woman and child to come out and shake hands with them. Quite a number hesitated, believing that I had been taken prisoner by the Indians and had been compelled to do this in order to save my own life, and believing that those Indians wanted to murder the entire train.

But after reasoning with them for a while I succeeded in convincing them that the Indians were peaceable. Then they all went out and shook hands except the two darkies, who were not to be found any where about the train at that time. I then told the man whose duty it was to look after the train in my absence, to drive about three miles and camp, describing the place, and that I would go with the Indians and kill some buffalo, so that we might have fresh meat, telling him to have each family cook a little bread extra for the Indians, and that they would furnish meat enough to do to-night and to-morrow, and was off for the buffalo hunt.

The Indians told me there was a band of buffalo about two or three miles ahead of us near the road.

We pushed on, on the main road, and sure enough right in the little valley where I had told the captain to camp, we saw a band of buffalo feeding. We all made a dash for them, and succeeded in killing five fat buffalo, and on the ground, enough for the entire train.

As soon as the train was corralled and the stock turned loose, we appointed four men, who claimed to know something of butchering, to cut up and distribute the meat among the people of the train. Up to this time the darkey cook had not been seen since I came over the hill in company with those Indians. A certain lady in the train said she thought that when he saw the Indians coming he had run off and hid in the sage brush, but after the fires were started he crawled out of one of the wagons where he had been hid, and claimed that he had been asleep all this time and did not know anything about any "Injuns," but it was a difficult matter to make the people in the train believe this yarn. I had the Indians build their fire outside of the corral, and while they were preparing their meat I went around and collected bread enough of different ones in the train for them, also a bowl of molasses. After all had their supper over I proposed to the Indians that we have a dance.

This dance is what they call a dance of peace, and is carried on in a manner like this: They--or all that wish to participate in the dance--form in a circle around the camp-fire, singing, or rather humming, a certain tune. I went to the people of the train and told them that the Indians and myself were going to have a peace dance, and all that wished to see it could come to the camp- fire and look on. I think every man, woman and child came out to see the dance, which lasted about two hours. After the dance was over one of the young Indians in the crowd came to me and said if I would interpret for him he would be pleased to make a speech for my friends, providing they were willing for him to do so. When he told the other Indians he was going to make a speech they all sat down in a circle around the camp-fire, seventeen in number, and were perfectly silent. I told them that this young Indian wanted to know if they would care to hear him make a speech. All were anxious to hear him, which would be something new to them. I told them that he would make the speech in his own language and I would interpret it word for word as near as I knew how.

When I told him they would be pleased to hear from him he walked up to me, laid his hand on my shoulder, and said:

"I have known this friend of mine a great many years. A long time ago when he use to come to our village, we always killed a dog, and after we would have a feast on dog meat, we always smoked the pipe of peace, and all of the Arapahoes are his friends."

He continued this manner of speaking about fifteen minutes, to the amusement of the entire train, and when he took his seat he wanted some one else to speak, but no one would attempt to respond to him, thus winding up the amusements for the evening.

In a conversation that evening with the Indians, they told me their business out there, which was to keep the Sioux Indians off of their hunting ground.

The Sioux and they were on friendly terms, but sometimes the Sioux would steal over on their hunting ground. They proposed to accompany us through the dangerous part of the country.

The morning following I told the men in the train of the generous proposition which the Indians had made me, and told them if they would furnish the Indians with bread they would keep them in meat. I also told them that we were now in the most dangerous part of the Sioux country, and that as long as those Indians were with us we were in no danger whatever from the fact that when the Sioux saw those Indians with us we were supposed to be their friends, and they dare not trouble us in the least.

This, however, was more than agreeable to the entire train, relieving the scouts of their duty, also the night guards. I made arrangements with the Indians to travel three days, and we then pulled out. Just when we were almost ready to start, one young lady in the crowd said to me; "Captain, I want to ask you one question, and will you tell me the truth?" I said: "Most assuredly I will." She said: "I want to know whether it was true that when you visited those Indians they always killed a dog and ate the meat?"

I told her it was true as gospel, and said we always considered dog meat the finest in the land, and only the chief and his most intimate friends were able to afford dog meat. She said she was astonished to hear me talk in such a manner. She said: "The most laughable part of the proceedings the evening before was the action of the darkey cook, Bab, who stood away back in the outer edge of the crowd when you and those Indians were dancing. You could have knocked his eyes off with a frying-pan and not have touched his face."

All went well. The Indians traveled with us three days as they had agreed to, which brought us to the head of Bitter creek. We killed a few buffalo all along the way, and when the Indians were ready to leave us they had killed all the meat that the train could take care of.

This being as far as they had agreed to accompany us, they were to start back the following morning and that night we had another peace dance. The Indians invited all in the train to participate in the dance, but none would take a part; so they and myself had the dancing to ourselves again The next morning when they were ready to leave us I told the people in the train to all come outside of the corral, both old and young, and form in line so those Indians could shake hands with all of them, telling them that they had done us a great favor in escorting us through the dangerous part of the country, and that this shaking hands they considered a great token of friendship.

This request was complied with, and the Indians all passed down the line of people, shaking hands with each one. After they were done shaking hands with all the train they all came and shook hands with me, mounted their ponies, and rode away as fast as their horses could run.

We pulled on for Fort Bridger, all going smoothly, for we were in the Bitter creek country and had no fear of Indians in that section. The day we arrived at Fort Bridger we sent four men on ahead to ascertain, if possible, where Bannock was. Here they met, by chance, some men from what was then called East Bannock and from them we learned just where Bannock was located, it being on a west tributary of the Missouri river. We also learned from these parties that there was a great excitement at this time over mines that had been struck some eighty miles east of Bannock, on what was known as Alder Gulch, or Stinking Water, but they were not able to advise us as to whether or not we could get there with wagons.

Now I knew just where we wanted to go, and we took what was known as the Landers cut-off, and pulled for Fort Hall, reaching the fort without encountering any trouble with the Indians or otherwise. The second day after passing Fort Hall, while we were crossing Snake river, we met a crowd of miners just from Alder Gulch, on their way to Denver, Colorado, for their families. From them we learned where Alder Gulch was, and those miners spoke in such high terms of the richness of that place that a great many in the train wanted to go there instead of going to Bannock, while others wanted to go to Bannock, that being where they had started.

That night they took a vote to decide as to which place they should go, which resulted in favor of Alder Gulch, so we pulled for Alder Gulch instead of Bannock.

We were now in the Bannock country. I did not hear of any depredations being committed by the Indians, but I used all precautions possible in order to prevent a surprise by the redskins.

Every few days we would meet a little squad of miners, all telling exciting stories about the richness of Alder Gulch. They were going home to their families with the expectation of moving them out there the following spring; most of their families being in Denver, Colorado. This all helped to create an anxiety among the people to push on and get through as quick as possible.

They moved somewhat faster now than before, reaching Virginia City, Montana, about the last of September, this being the trading point for Alder Gulch. Here we stopped and the train paid me off.

I stayed around there about three weeks. One day while I was at Virginia City two men, Boon and Bivian, who owned the only store of any note in Virginia City at that time, came to me and said that they had a train of twenty-two wagons some where on the road, but just where they did not know, and they wished to employ me to go and pilot it in, as their men with the train were all inexperienced in that line of business, and not acquainted with the road, not having been over any part of it before, and they were afraid that through carelessness they might fall into the hands of Indians.

The train was loaded, principally, with flour, bacon, sugar, coffee and tobacco. Flour was then worth twenty-five dollars per hundred, bacon forty cents a pound, and other things in proportion. On the twentieth of September I took two horses and started off to meet the freight train.

Three days from the time I left Virginia City I crossed the summit of the Rocky Mountains and it was snowing hard. I thought it doubtful whether or not they would be able to cross the mountains this winter, but I went on, and met them between Fort Hall and Soda Springs. I gave the wagon-boss a letter which Boon and Bivian had sent him, and after reading the letter he asked me if I thought they could cross the range this fall. I told him that it was about one hundred and eighty miles from there to the summit, and if he could make that distance in ten days he would be able to get through, but if not, he could not cross the mountains this fall. He said it would be impossible to make it in that length of time, as the cattle were all getting very poor and weak and the teams very heavily loaded. The next morning I struck out, taking another man with me, to try and find if possible, another ford on Snake river some thirty or forty miles above the old crossing, knowing if I could do that it Would save us two or three days' travel, and might be the means of our getting across the mountains that fall. I told the wagon-boss that I would meet him at Fort Hall, so in company with one other man, I struck straight across the country for Snake river. The second day about noon we reached the river, and that afternoon we succeeded in finding a good ford, which we called the Island ford, there being a little island just above.

We camped on Snake river bottom that night, and the next morning about daybreak we were on our journey for Fort Hall, reaching the fort one day ahead of the train. Here we waited until the train arrived. From Fort Hall we struck out for Snake river. This was all an open country, with the exception of sagebrush. The first night after leaving the fort snow fell four inches deep on the valley, and I felt satisfied then that we would not be able to cross the mountains that winter. The next day the snow all melted in the valley, but hung low at the foot of the mountains.

The third day after leaving Fort Hall we reached Snake river, and were successful in getting across without any mishap whatever. This new ford is near where Pocatello, Idaho, now stands. The first night after crossing the river we camped on a little stream, which I gave the name of Rock creek, and I am told that it is still known by that name. That night the snow fell one foot deep. I told the wagon-boss the next morning that he was at his journey's end for the present fill. We unloaded one wagon and he took one wagon to haul his camping outfit and provisions for the winter, and returned to the river bottom for the purpose of wintering his stock there. Another man and myself went to work to make two pairs of snow shoes, for which we had to use the side- boards of a wagon, there being no timber suitable in reach for that purpose. We were three days preparing for this trip, by which time the snow had settled.

All being in readiness the morning of the fourth day in this camp I, accompanied by two other men started on horseback, one man going along to bring the horses back, and the other to accompany me across the mountains. We rode to within ten miles of the summit of the mountains. Here the snow was nearly two and a half inches deep. Our horses were unable to get anything to eat except the branches of quaking asp trees that we cut and carried to them. The next morning we saddled our horses, one of my companions started back again, and we mounted our snow shoes and started to climb the mountain, this being my second attempt to travel on snow shoes. I was somewhat awkward at this new undertaking, and you can rest assured that I was tired when I reached the summit of the mountains, which took the greater part of the day. Each had a pair of blankets and enough provisions strapped on his back for the trip.

After reaching the summit of the mountain and starting down on the other side we found it much easier traveling. We worked hard all day and made what we thought to be twelve miles, camping that night in the fir timber. It was a cold, disagreeable night, with our one pair of blankets each, we consoled ourselves that it was much pleasanter than to have been here afoot and alone, and no blankets at all. The second day's travel after crossing the summit of this mountain we met a freight train on its return to Salt Lake City. This train was owned by a man named Goddard. It had been across the mountains with a load of freight and was returning, like our train on the opposite side and was unable to proceed farther, having to return to the low lands for the purpose of wintering the stock. We abandoned our snow shoes and procured conveyance to Virginia City. Messrs. Boon and Bivian were glad to know that their train was safe from the hands of the hostiles, but they said they would lose ten thousand dollars by not getting it across the mountains that fall. These men having a room at the rear of their store where they slept and did their cooking, kindly proposed that I should stop and winter with them, which hospitable offer I accepted.

At this time a stage ran from here to Bannock and from Bannock to Boise and from Boise to Salt Lake City, and the news was coming in every day of both stage and train robberies along this line, and it actually got so bad that it was not at all safe for a man to step outside of his own door after dark, if it was known that he had any money. These robbers were known in those days as "road agents."

About this time what was known as a vigilance committee was organized at Virginia City, and other points along the stage line, for protection against desperadoes. During the winter I was not out much, and all the news I could get was from persons who came to the store to trade.

One morning in the latter part of January I went out after a bucket of water at daylight, and happening to cast my eyes up a hillside I could see sentinels walking to and fro I could not understand it. On returning to the house I mentioned the matter to Messrs. Boon and Bivian. They smiled and said: "We understand all that," and they explained the whole thing to me. One of them said: "There will be some fun to-day," and the other replied: "Yes, a little hemp-pulling."

"Yes," responded the other, "that is what I meant." And then--in our western vernacular--I "tumbled to the racket."

By the time we had breakfast over people were beginning to come in to trade, and happening to look down the street I saw forty or fifty men all well armed come marching up the street in the direction of the store They marched up to a large gambling house, called the Shades. There they halted while some of them went in and returned, bringing with them a man by the name of Jack Gallagher

There was a log cabin immediately across the street with a fireplace in it, and to this house they marched Gallagher and put him inside.

Leaving a strong guard around the cabin, the balance of them started out as if hunting some one else. In a short time they came marching another man to the cabin by the name of Boone Helm, who had one hand tied up. It seemed to comfort Gallagher to know that he was going to have company on the long trip by the short route, and "misery likes company."

The third man was brought in a few minutes later whose name was Hank Parrish, the fourth and last that day being Clubfoot George.

They were all placed in the log cabin under a strong guard.

About the middle of the afternoon the crowd reassembled at the cabin jail, took the prisoners out, and marched them up the street. Mr. Boone and I walked down the street by the side of the crowd, and after they had gone one block, for some reason they came to a halt, when Boone Helm sang out in the most profane language he could have uttered, saying: "Hang me if you intend to, or I will have to go and warm my sore hand."

They marched on up the street to where there was a new log house that had been recently built and not yet covered. That had been prepared for this neck-tie party by placing four dry goods boxes in a row in the house. The four men were led in and placed on the boxes and a rope placed around each of their necks thrown over a joist above and made fast to a sleeper below.

While they were tying the rope around Jack Gallagher's neck--his hands already having been tied behind him--a perfect stream of oaths was pouring from his lips, and about the last words he uttered were: "I hope to meet you all in the bottomest pits of hell." These words were uttered not more than a minute before the box was kicked from under him.

After this little hanging-bee everything was quiet until near spring, when there came to town a man by the name of Slade, who was full of noisy whiskey, and started in to paint the town red. This man was the same Slade that used to be stage agent on the Overland road. He was also the same man that in the year 1852 cut an old man's ears off while he was tied to a snubbing post in a horse corrall, where he had been taken by the cowardly curs that were at that time in the employ of Slade simply because he, Jule, would not vacate the ranch where Julesburg was afterward established. After severing both ears from his head they shot him down like a dog while he was tied and helpless.

While in Virginia City this time Slade made threats against several people, and during his spree did something, I never knew just what, and a warrant was sworn out and placed in the hands of a marshal for his arrest. The marshal found him in a gambling house, and in some way managed to get him into the court-room before he suspected anything, not reading the warrant to him until they were in the court-room.

When informed that he was under arrest, Slade did not wait to hear the warrant read, but jerked it from the hands of the officer, tore it in two, wadded it up in his hands and threw it on the floor and stamped on it with his foot. Then he turned and walked out, and was in no wise backward in telling the officer, as well as the judge of the court, what his opinion was of such proceedings.

About the middle of that afternoon the Vigilantes, some twenty in number, came to where Slade was standing, took him in charge, and marched him off up the street. I happened to be standing near when they took him in tow and followed close in the rear while they were marching him off to the place of execution. I don't think that he drew three breaths during that time but what he was pleading for his life.

He told them after he was on the dry goods box that if they would release him he would leave the United States just as soon as he could get away. I have seen men die in various ways, but I never saw a man die as cowardly as this man Slade. When he found they were determined he begged and plead for them to let him live until he could see his wife; he said it was for a business affair. They did not wait for anything, but as soon as they were ready they kicked the box from under him, thus ending the life of another of the worst men that ever lived.

The awful life of this man is another story that would be too long to give here.

It seemed as though as soon as the arrest was made some of Slade's friends had started to inform his wife, from the fact that just as they were carrying the body from the gallows to the hotel she was seen coming across the hill as fast as her horse could carry her. I was told afterward that had she only got there before the hanging took place he never would have hanged, for parties that knew her said that before she would have seen him hanged she would have shot him herself. I was standing in the hotel where the body lay when she came in. She stood silently looking at the corpse for a few minutes, and then turning to the crowd that was standing around, said: "Will some one tell me who did this?" No one answering her, she repeated the question, and finally the third time she repeated the question at the top of her voice. At this I turned and walked out, and that was the last time I ever saw her. This was the last hanging we had that winter and spring.

In the latter days of April Messrs. Boone and Bivian employed me to cross the mountains and take letters to the wagon-master, and also to assist him in crossing the Rockies, so taking one pair of blankets, ten days provisions and a pair of snow shoes on my back I started afoot and alone across the mountains. The fourth day after leaving Virginia City I came to the foot of the main divide, and up to this time I did not have to use my snow shoes. Where I camped that night the snow was two feet deep, and the next morning there was a crust on it strong enough to bear me up until I went six or seven miles farther on, when I commenced to break through.

Then I put on my snow-shoes, and in a short time I was at the summit of the mountain. After reaching the top, the country being open and all down hill, I had fine traveling while the snow lasted, making a distance of about forty miles that day. Then I abandoned my snowshoes, and in two days more I was in camp on the river bottom where the stock had been wintered.

The wagon-master informed me that he had lost about one-third of the oxen, which had stampeded and ran off in a storm; also my two saddle horses, and his one and only saddle horse had gone with the cattle. He said they had been gone about six weeks, so I struck out to Fort Hall to try and buy a horse to ride to hunt up the lost stock.

I succeeded in buying a very poor excuse of a horse for a hundred dollars, that under any other circumstances I would not have accepted as a gracious gift. But it was "Hopkins' choice," that or none. Mounting my crow-bait, I struck out in a westerly direction to look for the stock.

Three days' ride from the fort I struck plenty of cattle sign. They were apparently heading for Wood river, and after following their trail about two miles, I discovered two horse tracks, which convinced me it was the stock I was looking for. The next morning I found them and the cattle were all there with the exception of three. One of my horses was there, but the other one was missing, the wagon-master's horse was also there. I succeeded in catching my horse and turned loose the one I had bought and left him there for wolf-bait, provided they would eat him, mounted my saddle horse, and turned the stock in the direction of camp. It took me five days to drive them to our camp on the river, making ten days in all since I had started out. We stayed there three weeks longer, and the grass being good, by that time the stock was looking well.

All this time we were expecting a Mormon train on the other side would cross over and break the road as they were not loaded, but not seeing any sign of them, the wagon-boss got tired of waiting, and hitching up, pulled about twenty miles to the edge of the snow.

We were two days making this twenty miles. Here we stopped, but the wagon-master and I started next morning on foot for the summit. While we were on the mountain we could hear the other train coming so we walked on to meet it and see if we could assist them in any way. They were taking a very wise plan for it; two men riding ahead on horseback, others were driving about forty head of loose stock behind them, all followed by the wagons.

They got to our camp that night about dark. This tram broke the road in good shape for us, and the following morning the boss put all of the oxen to half the wagons and pulled across. It took us nearly all day to get out of the snow on the other side, thereby taking us three days to cross the mountains.

I traveled with the train three days after crossing the mountains, and then I left and rode on to Virginia City, knowing that Boone and Bivian would be anxious for information.

This was the first train of the season, and when it arrived flour was worth one dollar per pound, bacon fifty cents, and everything else in proportion.

After the goods were unloaded and the stock rested up for a few days, the train was started back to Salt Lake City to load with flour and bacon. After it had been gone five days Mr. Boone and I started to follow it, expecting to get to the Mormon city ahead of the train and have the cargo purchased by the time it would arrive.

Mr. Boone took with him on this trip twenty-two thousand dollars in gold dust, on pack-horses. But in order to get away from Virginia City with it and not be suspected, we packed up three horses one night, behind the store, and I started that night with a pick and shovel tied to each pack, as if I were going prospecting. I went to where I thought would make a good day's ride for Boone, and camped. He overtook me the next night, and he said he would not have had it known how much dust he had with him for three times that amount.

We made the trip to Salt Lake all right, however, but in a few days after we learned that the stage-coach that left Virginia City at the same time we did was robbed and every passenger killed. These passengers were seven successful miners that had made all the money they wanted, or rather what they considered a handsome little stake, there being eighty thousand dollars in the crowd, and they were on their way home somewhere in the East.

The driver was the only one that escaped, he claiming to have jumped off from the stage. I saw the stage when it came into Salt Lake City, and it was riddled with bullets and blood spattered all over the inside of the coach.

There was a man by the name of Brown driving the stage at that time, and many people believed, in fact it was the general impression at the time, that the driver was in with the robbers. This robbery and massacre occurred in what is known as Beaver canyon.

During my stay at Salt Lake there came in from Virginia City a young man by the name of Richard Hyde, to buy cattle. Mr. Boone recommended him to me as being a fine young man and very shrewd for his age. After having some little acquaintance with him and he had told me his business, also what profit there was in it, he and I formed a co-partnership for the purpose of buying cattle and driving them to Virginia City. We bought one hundred and ninety- two head of all sizes, and by the help of two other men, we drove them through, losing only five head, which was considered excellent luck.

We stopped about ten miles below town, and after setting a price on our cattle, I remained with them while Mr. Hyde went to look for buyers. He was gone nearly a week, and when he returned he had sold nearly all the cattle. We were well pleased with the result of our venture, and I am told Mr. Hyde kept the business up for several years until he made an independent fortune, and I am told, at this writing--1899--that he is somewhere in Iowa doing a large banking business.

As soon as the cattle were all delivered and we had settled up, Mr. Hyde and I struck back for Salt Lake City, he to buy more cattle, and I on my way to California.

Near Ogden I fell in with an emigrant train of twenty-two wagons bound for California. As soon as they learned who I was, having heard of me back at Fort Kearney, they insisted on my traveling in company with them, and there being some fine looking young ladies in the train, I accepted the invitation and joined them.

These families were from Illinois and Ohio, and I can truthfully say that I never traveled with or saw a finer crowd of people than these were, and I never was in a company that I regretted leaving as I did those people, for they all seemed more like brothers and sisters to me than strangers.

The majority of them bought small farms in Solano county, California, and settled down. I remained with them until after the holidays, then left and struck out for San Francisco. This was the beginning of the year 1865.

After remaining in the city a few days I concluded one day to take a ride out to the fort and see if any of my acquaintances were there. I only found one person that I had been acquainted with before, and that was Capt. Miller. He showed me a number of letters from his brother officers out in Arizona, all saying they were having a great deal of trouble with the Indians in that country. I returned to the city, bought two more horses and commenced making preparations to go to Fort Yuma by way of Los Angeles.

The day before I was to start I was walking down Sampson street near the American Exchange Hotel, where I was stopping while in the city, when I heard a voice across the street that sounded familiar, say, "Hello chief." I looked around and who should I see but George Jones, who was then coming on a run to me; and you can rest assured that I was glad to see him, as it had been nine years since I had met him. He told me of his trip back to Fort Klamath the time that he accompanied me to San Francisco and returned with the mail; of the hardships that he underwent on his way back, and also his various speculations after leaving the service and said that it seemed that everything he turned his hand to went against him.

I told him my intention was to go to Arizona and secure a position as scout, and he at once made up his mind to go with me, and it is useless to say that I was well pleased with his decision from the fact that when he was with me I always knew just what to depend on.

It was in the fore part of February when we started on this long and tedious trip, and we made up our minds to take our time to it. From here we went to Los Angeles, and there we stayed four days to let our horses rest, and while there we lived principally on fruit.

From Los Angeles to Fort Yuma it is called five hundred and fifty miles and the greater part of the way it is over a desert country. From Los Angeles we struck across the Mojave desert, crossing the extreme south end of Death Valley to avoid the sand desert, and made our way to the Colorado river without any mishap, but sometimes having to ride as much as forty miles without water for our horses.

When we struck the river we traveled down on the north side until just below the mouth of the Gila we crossed the Colorado, where Jim Beckwith and I had crossed a number of years before. We had not gone far after crossing the Colorado when we came to the Yuma Indians, spoken of before as not wearing any clothing. Here George Jones declared that he had gone far enough, saying he had found a place that he had been looking for for a long time where people did not have to wear clothing nor till the soil for a living. And he added: "This is good enough for me."

The next day at noon after crossing the river we reached Fort Yuma. We rode up to the guard and asked if Lieut. Jackson was stationed at this fort. The guard replied that he was, and directed me to his quarters. I walked up to his door and rapped. He came to the door, but did not recognize me as my hair had grown out long and my beard was all over my face, but in his usual kindly way he asked what he could do for us. I asked him if my friend and I could get our dinner.

By this time his wife had recognized my voice and came to the door, and as she was approaching him he asked if she could let those two gentlemen have their dinner.

"Why, Lieutenant, don't you know who that is you are talking to?" she said. "I do not," he replied. "Why," said she, "that is the boy scout."

It is useless to say that we were taken in to dinner and our horses taken care of, and while at the dinner table I told the Lieutenant our business there. I told him that I had come there with the intention of getting a position as chief of scouts, and that I would not accept a position unless my friend Mr. Jones could get a place with me. He told me that he had no doubt but that we would both be able to get a position, as they had lost five scouts inside of the last month.

After dinner Lieut. Jackson excused himself, and telling us to remain at his quarters until he returned, he took a walk to the General's quarters. He returned in about an hour, saying Gen. Crook wished to see us both at once at his quarters, and we, in company with the Lieutenant, walked over to the General's tent, and to my astonishment, I was introduced as Capt. Drannan.

The General's orderly and the officer of the day were both in his room and he told them he wished to speak to us on private business, and they at once withdrew. Then the General commenced to question me in regard to fighting Indians, and I did nothing for the next two hours but answer questions.

Like all other successful officers, he did not want any dead-heads around him, and I presume that is why Gen. Crook was such a successful Indian fighter.

He requested us to call at his quarters at nine o'clock the next morning, after which he called his orderly and told him to show us quarters for the night and also to care for our horses. That evening while George was away looking after our horses I was taking a stroll around the fort, when by chance I met Gen. Crook taking his evening walk, and he asked me what I knew about this friend of mine. I told how I had seen him tried on various occasions and that I had never seen any signs of his weakening yet. I also told him that if I accepted a position as scout, I wanted George Jones with me, for I knew that I could depend on him under any and all circumstances. The General told me that he had been having very hard luck this summer, having lost all his best scouts by their falling in the hands of the Apaches. He also told me that he had one scout that fell into their hands and was burned at the stake, The next morning at nine o'clock Jones and I were on hand at the General's quarters. The first question he asked me was on what conditions I wished to go to work and what I expected per month. I told him that heretofore what scouting I had done I had gone as an independent scout, and that I would go to work under no other conditions.

He asked me what I meant by an independent scout. I said I meant so much per month, rations for myself and horse, and all horses I captured from the Indians to be my own. If I don't suit you, you can tell me so and I will quit, and when you don't suit me I will call for my money and quit at once.

He said that was fair enough, but I told him that I would not go to work under any consideration unless my friend Mr. Jones could have employment too.

I hired to Gen. Crook for one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, to go to work the following morning. After the bargain was made the General said to me: "You must bear in mind that you're in a different country now to what you have been accustomed to working in, and altogether a different climate as well." He proposed sending a man with me that he said was thoroughly posted in the country, knowing every watering place, as well as the different runways of the Indians in the whole, country, and he added that he would not expect any benefit from us for at least ten days, as it would take this man that length of time to show us over the country.

At this I withdrew from the General's quarters, and he and George soon made a bargain. George was to receive seventy-five dollars per month. The balance of the day was spent in making preparations for our prospecting tour, as we termed it.

The following morning I ordered ten days' rations for three of us. When we were ready to start Gen. Crook called me aside and told me the nature of the man who was to accompany us, saying that there was not a watering place nor an Indian trail in the whole territory that he did not know, and said he: "If you don't see any Indians or fresh sign of Indians he will show you all over the country. But he is the scarriest man of Indians you ever saw in your life."

This man's name was Freeman. When we were ready to start Freeman asked me what course I wished to take. I told him that I would like to go in the direction that we would be the most likely to find Apaches. I pointed in the direction of a range of mountains, tell-ing him that by ascending them he would be able to show me where the different watering places were in the valley by land marks, and we struck out southeast from the fort in the direction of the middle fork of the Gila river. The first night we camped on what was then called the Butterfield route, some thirty-five or forty miles from the fort. This season there were a great many emigrants passing over this route from Texas and Arkansas to California, and Gen. Crook said the Apaches were giving them much trouble on this part of the road, and if they continued to be so bad he would have to send one or two companies of soldiers out there for the protection of the emigrants. The second morning out we passed a ranch owned by a man named Davis, who had lived there two years. He told me that the Apaches had never given him any trouble from the fact that he had gotten the good will of the chief when he first went there by giving him numerous little presents of different kinds.

He told me that although isolated from the world, he was doing well, from the fact that most all of the people passing there patronized him. This family was from Indiana. After I had told him who I was and what would be my business, he insisted on my staying over night with him when convenient, saying that it would not cost me a cent. Thanking him for his hospitable offer, we rode on, keeping the Butterfield route. Late that afternoon we met a train of sixteen wagons on the way to California. The people told us that the day before they had seen where five wagons had just been burned. I asked how far it was, and they thought it was twenty- five miles from where we met them. When we heard of this we pushed on, thinking there might be some dead bodies there and that we could bury them. On arriving at the scene, sure enough we found three dead bodies two hundred and fifty yards from the burned wagons; one of them being that of an old man, and the others, two boys twelve and fourteen years of age. The Indians had not stripped the bodies nor mutilated them, only they were all filled with arrows. The dead bodies were all dressed in home-made jeans. We found a few pieces of wagon boxes that had not been burned and dug as good a grave as we could in the sand, giving them as good a burial as we could under the circumstances. This being done, we took the trail of the Indians, which led off in a south-westerly direction. I felt confident that it had been at least three days since this depredation had been committed. My object in following them up was to see if we could get any evidence of white prisoners in their camp. For the first ten or fifteen miles they kept on the roughest, rockiest ground they could find, all of which led me to believe they had expected to be followed. The next morning we came to where they had made their first camp. All the evidence we could see of white prisoners in their charge was a few pieces of calico torn up and scattered around their camp-ground. We followed the trail until we came to where they had made their second camp, and here we found the waists of two women's dresses, one being somewhat larger than the other. The two dress waists we took along with us. Here the Indians had changed their course somewhat, and our guide said in the direction of their main village, but I did not consider myself well enough posted to go too near their main village. I told the guard to lead us off south of west from Fort Yuma, which he did, and late that afternoon we saw six Indians traveling east, and I told the boys that they were scouts for the main band and that they were going out to look for emigrants. When we first got sight of them they were traveling up an open valley. I told the boys that we would keep a close watch of them, and if they should camp alone we would have their scalps before morning; but just one look from Freeman and I was convinced that he did not approve of this scheme. George said to him: "You can take care of the horses can't you, and if everything is favorable, Cap and I can take care of the Indians." Late in the afternoon I told them what course to travel, and taking advantage of the ground, I pushed on to see the Indians go into camp. When I started the guide told me there was water about a mile above where the Indians were, and that they were pulling for it. He said there was a fine spring of water in a little bunch of timber, and that the Indians always camped there when they were going to and from their hunting ground. Sure enough, when they came to this little grove they all dismounted and turned their horses loose entirely, then commenced to roast their antelope meat for supper. I hurried back to meet my companions, and we succeeded in getting within a quarter of a mile of the Indians. By this time it was getting dark.

We picketed our horses and sat down to eat our cold lunch, after which we started down to the camp, but were very cautious how we traveled. When in sight of the camp-fire we could see them all plainly sitting around it. We lay silent and watched them and their movements. In a few minutes two of them got up and went out to where their horses were and drove them all up together to less than one hundred yards of where we lay. It was so dark we could not see them, but could hear them talking very distinctly. After having rounded their horses up together they returned to the fire. Thinking they would lie down in a short time, for they did not seem to suspect any trouble that night, we started to crawl down to their camp, all abreast. After our guide, Freeman, found that I was determined to attack them he seemed to muster up courage and come right to the front like a man. My object in crawling near their camp so soon was to see in just what position they lay before the fire went out, and when the last one laid down we were within fifty yards of them. I told the boys we had a soft thing of it, for each of us had two revolvers and a good knife, and the Indians were all lying close together with their feet towards the fire. I told them we would wait two hours as near as we could guess the time and then they would be asleep; that then we would crawl up and send them to their happy hunting-ground. After waiting until we thought they were asleep we crawled down to their camp, again all three abreast, George on my right and Freeman on my left; and so we drew near, their fire had not gone entirely out, and a little breeze now and then would cause it to blaze up just enough so that we were able to get their exact positions. I told the boys to watch me and when I raised to my feet for both to raise and draw both revolvers as we would then be right at their heads, and for each man to stick the muzzle of each of his pistols to an Indian's head and fire; George to take the two on my right and Freeman the two on toy left, and I to take the two in the middle, and after firing each man was to jump back two jumps, so in case one of us should miss one of his men that we would be out of their reach, thereby enabling us to get all of them without taking any chances ourselves.

George said that at the first click of his pistol one of his men raised up in a sitting position, and he only got one the first shot. Freeman and I each got our two Indians the first shot; but George having both his eyes on one, the other rose to his feet. George and I took two shots each at this other Indian before we could get him down. It was mostly guess work, for it was so dark that we could scarcely see him.

As soon as we were satisfied that we had all of them we started out to look for their horses, but it was so dark that we could not find them, so we found our way back to where our own horses were. Freeman and I laid down to rest, while George got on a horse and kept circling the camp so as not to let any of the horses get away during the. night. He kept this up until the morning star arose, and seeing that all the horses were there, laid down to rest. As soon as it was beginning to get light Freeman and I arose, started a fire, and sat around until after sun-up, when we got breakfast, made some coffee and then called George, and all enjoyed a good square meal once more.

After breakfast we scalped our Indians and found that we had eight good half-breed horses and a number of good horse-hair robes. I asked our guide how far we were from Fort Yuma and he said straight through it was one hundred and twenty miles, but the way that we would have to go it would be at least one hundred and fifty miles. I concluded we had better pull out for the fort so Freeman and myself rode ahead and George followed up the rear, driving the loose horses. We did not see any more Indian sign that day. Late in the evening I was riding along when I ran on to a young antelope. I shot him and we had fresh meat for supper for the first time since we left the fort. The next day we crossed a big Indian trail going east. The trail looked to be about two days old, but as our rations were beginning to run short we did not attempt to follow them, but pushed on to the fort, making as good time as possible, returning on the eleventh day from the time we started out.

I reported our success to the General. He was well pleased with the result of the trip, and when I reported the burying of the dead bodies, he thought we had better return to the spot, taking with us some good coffins, and give them a more decent burial, but on consulting the doctor, concluded in that extraordinarily hot climate it would be utterly impossible to bury them after so long a time, and the idea was abandoned.

I showed the two dress waists that I had found at the Apache camp to the General, also to Mrs. Jackson, but we never got any information of any white prisoners being taken there at that time.

The General was pleased to see the Indian scalps, as he said they were the first scalps that had been brought in for two months.

Gen. Crook now made up his mind at once to send Lieut. Jackson out on the road with two companies of cavalry, and George Jones and myself were to accompany them as scouts.

When we were ready to start Lieut. Jackson asked me if I didn't want more scouts, but I told him that I thought we could get along this trip with what we had.

We took the Butterfield route and followed that road until we were in the St. Louis mountains. This seemed to be at that time, a favorite part of the country for the Apaches to commit their depredations upon emigrants. We traveled very slowly as we had to pack our entire outfit on burros, and our saddle horses having to live altogether on grass, consequently we could not hurry. Early in the morning of the sixth day of that trip George and I started out in advance of the command, one to the right and the other to the left of the road, and if neither of us should see any signs of Indians we were to meet at the crossing of a certain stream only a few miles ahead of the command; and in the event of either of us arriving at the stream and waiting half an hour and the other did not make his appearance, he was to return at once with his force of scouts to the command. On arriving at the appointed spot and finding that George and his assistants were not there, we waited until we were convinced he was not coming and at once returned to the command.

On our return we learned that shortly after starting out that morning George had run on to a big Indian trail. Supposing it to be the same band of Indians whose trail we had crossed when returning from our other trip, he had reported to the command at once, and the trail being fresh, he, taking four other men, had started in pursuit, leaving word with Lieut. Jackson for me not to be uneasy about him nor attempt to follow him, but to remain with the command until I heard from him again.

While Lieut. Jackson was yet talking relative to the matter, I received a message from George saying that he had the Indians located some five miles from the road and wanted me to come and look the ground over before the command should start.

I at once mounted, and piloted by the man who had brought the message to me, rode to where George was. On arriving there I found the Indians so situated that it was impossible to ascertain the number from the fact that in this extraordinarily warm climate the Indians do not use any wick-i-ups or lodges, so that the only method by which we could make an estimate of their number was by counting the number of fires they had end calculate each fire to represent a certain number of Indians, this being our method of estimating them when in wick-i-ups, we reckoned their number to be one hundred and fifty.

Where these Indians were camped it would be utterly impossible to make an attack without being discovered long before reaching them, they being in a large valley.

After a thorough examination of the camp and surroundings by looking through a glass, we concluded that the best plan would be to return to the command and have it move up to within two miles of the Indians and remain there until after dark, then leave it to the Lieutenant whether he should make the attack on foot or horseback.

I remained to watch the movements of the Indians and see whether they were reinforced during the day and to report at dark, George returning to the command. The soldiers moved up that evening to within two miles of the Indian camp I remained at my post until it was so dark that I could not see through my glasses any longer, when I mounted my horse and rode to the command, having made no new discoveries. After explaining the situation as nearly as I could, the Lieutenant concluded to make the attack on foot some time between midnight and daylight the next morning, and to attack them from two sides at the same time.

The Lieutenant taking half the men and making the long march, which would be about one and a half miles farther than the others would have to march, leaving his orderly sergeant in charge of the other half of the command. I piloted the Lieutenant and George piloted the orderly. Here Lieut. Jackson invented some new style of signal to what I had seen before, by taking a tea cup and pouring powder in it and when he was ready to make the charge he was to set the powder on fire, which would make a flash, and in case the orderly was ready, he was to signal the Lieutenant in the same manner.

We made the circuit and marched up to within one hundred yards of the Indians, but could not make the attack until near daylight, the Lieutenant thinking it was so dark that the soldiers were in danger of killing each other, which was all perfectly true.

When the time arrived for the attack, which was just at daybreak, the Lieutenant gave his signal, which was answered at once by the orderly, and the Lieutenant led the way by going in advance of the force, and I think it was the quickest fight I ever saw. I did not count the Indians that were killed myself, but was told that there were between 190 and 200 found dead on the battlefield. They seemed to raise up as fast as the soldiers would cut them down, and I think there were two cut down with the sabres where one was shot. As soon as the battle was over, or when we could not find any more Indians to kill, George and I got our horses as quick as we could and went out after our horses, but they had taken fright at the firing and were scattered all over the country. That evening the Lieutenant moved back to the road at the head of a nice little valley where there were plenty of fine grass and good water, saying that he would make this his headquarters as long as he was out on this road.

The Lieutenant having five men wounded in this engagement, he wanted some one to carry a dispatch to headquarters requesting the General to forward an ambulance, and George Jones being a light man who could stand the ride better than any one in the crowd, the Lieutenant chose him to make the ride. It took us five days to come from Fort Yuma, and George took three horses and made the round trip in seven and one-half days. We remained here in this camp something like three months, but did not have another fight of any consequence with the Indians during our stay in this place. The Apaches quit their work in this portion of the country, thus enabling the emigrants to pass unmolested. In about one week after George Jones had returned from his trip to headquarters, Lieut. Jackson, George and myself went out around the foot of the mountain on a scouting tour. We were riding in sight of each other, when the Lieutenant signalled us to come to where he was. On arriving there he told us to keep our eyes on a certain ridge and we would see a little band of Indians rise over the top of the hill in a few minutes, saying he had just got sight of them while crossing the ridge beyond but could not tell just how many there were.

We secreted ourselves in a little thicket of timber where we would be concealed from their view, and in a few minutes they hove in sight. We counted them and found that there were eleven of them. Lieut. Jackson said to me: "Cap, shall we try them a whirl or not?" I said: "Lieutenant, I will leave that with you. If you feel like it we will give them a round." The Lieutenant said: "All right. I want to try my mare anyway and see if she is any good or not."

He was riding a mare of fine breeding, as black as a coal and as fleet an animal as there was in the whole command. By this time the Indians had crossed over the ridge and were then traveling up a little ravine, and by keeping ourselves secreted they would cross the ridge near us. Just as they turned over the ridge referred to, we were to make the charge. I was riding a roan horse that I had bought in San Francisco that could run like a deer, for when in this business I would not ride a horse that was not swift, but I never had him in an engagement of this kind. Being very hard-mouthed, I thought he was liable to run away with me, and I did not know whether he would run in the opposite direction or after the Indians. The Lieutenant and Geo. Jones said that if he would only run after the Indians they would follow me up closely.

As soon as the last Indian had passed over the ridge out of sight we made a charge, and that black mare went like she was shot out of a cannon. The Indians were all armed with bow and arrows, but they did not attempt to use them. They did not suspect anything wrong until they heard the clatter of our horses' feet within a few yards of them and when they turned to look back we all had our revolvers ready and turned loose to firing and yelling, and for the next half mile we had a lively race. I had thought up to that time that there wasn't a man on the plains or in the Rocky Mountains that could beat me shooting with a pistol while on the run, but I must confess that Lieut. Jackson on his black mare could shoot more Indians in the same length of time than any person I was ever out with, and it seemed that as fast as the Lieutenant would shoot one Indian down his mare would turn and take after the next nearest. The Lieutenant fired six shots and killed five Indians and wounded the sixth one, while riding at full speed, and in this country in places the sage brush is waist high to a man. In this engagement I got four Indians, having to shoot one Indian three times be--I got him down, and George Jones killed three. Not one of them escaped. Lieut. Jackson said he could not see why it was that they did not offer to defend themselves, when they had four to one to start with, for the Apaches have always been considered the bravest tribe of Indians in the entire West, and they had been known at different times to fight soldiers man to man. The last Indian I killed was beyond doubt the best horseman I had ever seen among the Indians, for he was first on one side of his horse and then on the other. It seemed as though he could almost turn under the horses belly while on the dead run, and he would swing himself around under his breast, rendering it almost impossible to deal him a fatal shot, for he frisked around so fast that a person could not get a bead on him.

We arrived at camp that evening just at dark. During our absence a train of emigrants consisting of twenty-one wagons had camped near our quarters. They wanted an escort of twenty or twenty-five men to accompany them to Port Yuma, which they were willing to board free of charge while on the trip.

Those emigrants were from Dallas, Texas, and apparently well-to-do people. On learning that the Lieutenant was out on a scouting tour, they prepared a nice supper for the three of us. The following morning the Lieutenant detailed twenty men in charge of a sergeant, to escort the emigrants to Fort Yuma. George Jones went along as a scout and I remained with the command. They were ten days making the trip, as the emigrants having ox teams, traveled slowly. On the return of the escort the Lieutenant concluded to move some fifty miles south on this road, where we made our headquarters while we remained in this section of country, being on a tributary of the Grand river, which runs down through the western part of New Mexico.

One day while I was out on a scouting tour I ran on to a little band of Navajo Indians on their way to the St. Louis Mountains for a hunt. They had some blankets with them of their own manufacture, and being confident that the Lieutenant had never seen a blanket of that kind, I induced them to go with me to our quarters to show their blankets to the Lieutenant and others as well. I told the Lieutenant that he could carry water in one of those all day and it would not leak through. We took one of them, he taking two corners and I two, and the third man poured a bucket of water in the center of it, and we carried it twenty rods and the water did not leak through it. The Lieutenant asked how long it took to make one of them, and the Indian said it took about six months. He bought a blanket for five dollars, being about all the silver dollars in the command. The blanket had a horse worked in each corner, of various colors, also a man in the center with a spear in his hand. How this could be done was a mystery to all of us, as it contained many colors and showed identically the same on both sides.

By this time our three months' supply was running short, and Lieut. Jackson commenced making preparations to return to headquarters with his entire command. We pulled out for the fort, and did not see an Indian or even a fresh track on our way.

When we arrived at the fort and Lieut. Jackson made his report Gen. Crook was more than pleased with the success we had met, and I succeeded in getting George's wages raised from seventy-five to one hundred dollars per month, unbeknown to him.

It was now in the fall of the year, and the General decided to send us back again with two companies of cavalry and one company of infantry, calculated more for camp and guard duty than for actual service.

After we had rested up a month or such a matter the General had six or eight mule teams rigged up, also fifty burros for pack animals, and started Lieut. Jackson back again with three hundred soldiers.