very cross--ready for the blood of
Indian or white man--therefore he had permitted them to do about as they
pleased while in the store, particularly as we were there, and he
saw that we were frightened. That young man did not know that his own
swarthy face was a greenish white all the time those Indians were in the
store! Not one penny did they pay for the things they carried off. Only
two years ago the entire Ute nation was on the warpath, killing every
white person they came across, and one must have much faith in Indians
to believe that their "change of heart" has been so complete that these
Utes have learned to love the white man in so short a time.

No! There was hatred in their eyes as they approached us in that store,
and there was restrained murder in the hand that pushed Mrs. Phillips
and me over. They were all hideous--with streaks of red or green paint
on their faces that made them look like fiends. Their hair was roped
with strips of bright-colored stuff, and hung down on each side of their
shoulders in front, and on the crown of each black head was a small,
tightly plaited lock, ornamented at the top with a feather, a piece of
tin, or something fantastic. These were their scalp locks. They wore
blankets over dirty old shirts, and of course had on long, trouserlike
leggings of skin and moccasins. They were not tall, but rather short and
stocky. The odor of those skins, and of the Indians themselves, in that
stuffy little shop, I expect to smell the rest of my life!

We heard this morning that those very savages rode out on the plains in
a roundabout way, so as to get in advance of the Cheyennes, and then had
hidden themselves on the top of a bluff overlooking the trail they knew
the Cheyennes to be following, and had fired upon them as they passed
below, killing two and wounding a number of others. You can see how
treacherous these Indians are, and how very far from noble is their
method of warfare! They are so disappointing, too--so wholly unlike
Cooper's red men.

We were glad enough to get in the ambulance and start on our way to the
post, but alas! our troubles were not over. The mules must have felt
the excitement in the air, for as soon as their heads were turned toward
home they proceeded to run away with us. We had the four little mules
that are the special pets of the quartermaster, and are known throughout
the garrison as the "shaved-tails," because the hair on their tails is
kept closely cut do