but still
clinging to my old Mississippi Yaeger rifle, a short muzzle-loader
which carried a ball and two buckshot.

Darkness came, and I still toiled along. The men ahead were almost out
of hearing. Presently the moon rose, dead ahead of me. And painted
boldly across its face was the black figure of an Indian. There could
be no mistaking him for a white man. He wore the war-bonnet of the
Sioux, and at his shoulder was a rifle, pointed at someone in the
bottom below him. I knew well enough that in another second he would
drop one of my friends. So I raised my Yaeger and fired. I saw the
figure collapse, and heard it come tumbling thirty feet down the bank,
landing with a splash in the water.

McCarthy and the rest of the party, hearing the shot, came back in a
hurry.

"What is it?" asked McCarthy, when he came up to me.

"I don't know," I said. "Whatever it is, it is down there in the
water."

McCarthy ran over to the brave. "Hi!" he cried. "Little Billy's killed
an Indian all by himself!"

Not caring to meet any of this gentleman's friends we pushed on still
faster toward Fort Kearney, which we reached about daylight. We were
given food and sent to bed, while the soldiers set out to look for our
slain comrades and to try to recover our cattle.

Soldiers from Fort Leavenworth found the herders, killed and mutilated
in the Indian fashion. But the cattle had been stampeded among the
buffalo and it was impossible to recover a single head.

We were taken back to Leavenworth on one of the returning freight
wagon-trains. The news of my exploit was noised about and made me the
envy of all the boys of the neighborhood. The Leavenworth _Times_,
published by D.B. Anthony, sent a reporter to get the story of the
adventure, and in it my name was printed for the first time as the
youngest Indian slayer of the Plains.

I was persuaded now that I was destined to lead a life on the Plains.
The two months that our ill-fated expedition had consumed had not
discouraged me. Once more I applied to Mr. Majors for a job.

"You seem to have a reputation as a frontiersman, Billy," he said; "I
guess I'll have to give yon another chance." He turned me over to Lew
Simpson, who was boss of a twenty-five wagon-train just starting with
supplies for General Albert Sidney Johnston's army, which was then on
its way to Great Salt Lake to fight the Mormons, whose Destroying
Angels, or Danites, were engaged in many outrages on Gentile
immigra