er about his person and turned at intervals of his flight
and fired at his pursuer. By this means he was enabled to make headway.
and at last escaped.

Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas were stripped and the General scalped. Meacham
was insensible and as the Indians started in to scalp him Riddle's squaw
told them that the soldiers were coming, and they left him and fled. To
this fact Meacham was indebted for his scalp, as it was partly cut loose
and in a few moments more would have been stripped off.

While these scenes were being enacted, two Indians approached the lines
of Mason and Green bearing a flag of truce. Lieutenants Sherwood and
Boyle went out about 500 yards beyond their line to meet them. The
Indians said they wanted to see Maj. Mason and when told by the officers
that Mason would not talk to them, they appeared disappointed. As the
officers turned to go back to their lines they were fired upon by
Indians in ambush and Lieut. Sherwood was mortally wounded.

Early in the day Capt. Adams had been stationed on Gillem's bluff and
during all the proceedings at the peace tent had watched with a strong
field glass. When the massacre of the commission began he telegraphed to
Gen. Gillem, and the soldiers, held in readiness for an emergency,
sprang to the advance on the double quick, but were too late to save the
life of the gallant Canby and his comrades.

Thus ended the long, dreary farce of the "Peace Commission." And at what
a price! There lay the noble Canby prone upon his face, cold and still
in death; having breasted the hurricane of many a well-fought field to
fall at last by the treacherous, assassin hand of a prowling savage to
whom he had come upon a mission of peace and friendship. There was
another of the Commissioners, a man of peace, a preacher of the gospel
of eternal love, stricken down with the words of mercy and forgiveness
upon his lips, his gray and reverend locks all dabbled in his own blood.
Another, shot and hacked and stabbed, covered with wounds, beaten down
with cruel blows, motionless but still alive. And there was another,
with warwhoop and pistol shot ringing at his heels, fleeing for his
life; while at the side scene was the "honorable" Capt. Jack, stage
manager of the awful play, arch demon of massacre, with pistol that took
the priceless life of Canby still smoking in his hand, leaping with
glee, his dark face all aglow with the glare of the dread spectacle,
like a fiend dancing in the f