tacked
us. We rode out on a little hill about a quarter-mile from their
wagon, scattering out so as not to give them a pot shot, in case they
wanted to renew the unpleasantness.

"When they saw us there, one fellow started toward us, waving his
handkerchief. We began speculating which one it was, but soon made him
out to be the cook; his occupation kept him out of the first round.
When he came within a hundred yards, I rode out and met him. He
offered me his hand and said, 'We are in a bad fix. Two of our crowd
have bad flesh wounds. Do you suppose we could get any whiskey back at
this Indian trader's store?'

"'If there is any man in this territory can get any I can if they
have it,' I told him. 'Besides, if your lay-out has had all the
satisfaction fighting they want, we'll turn to and give you a lift. It
seems like you all have some dead men over back here. They will
have to be planted. So if your outfit feel as though you had your
belly-full of fighting for the present, consider us at your service.
You're the cook, ain't you?'

"'Yes, sir,' he answered. 'Are all three dead?' he then inquired.

"'Dead as heck,' I told him.

"'Well, we are certainly in a bad box,' said he meditatingly. 'But
won't you all ride over to our wagon with me? I think our fellows are
pacified for the present.'

"I motioned to our crowd, and we all rode over to their wagon with
him. There wasn't a gun in sight. The ragged edge of despair don't
describe them. I made them a little talk; told them that their boss
had cashed in, back over the hill; also if there was any segundo in
their outfit, the position of big augur was open to him, and we were
at his service.

"There wasn't a man among them that had any sense left but the cook.
He told me to take charge of the killed, and if I could rustle a
little whiskey to do so. So I told the cook to empty out his wagon,
and we would take the dead ones back, make boxes for them, and bury
them at the store. Then I sent three of my men back to the store to
have the boxes ready and dig the graves. Before these three rode away,
I said, aside to Jim, who was one of them, 'Don't bother about any
whiskey; branch water is plenty nourishing for the wounded. It would
be a sin and shame to waste good liquor on plafry like them.'

"The balance of us went over to the field of carnage and stripped the
saddles off their dead horses, and arranged the departed in a row,
covering them with saddle blankets, pendi