ustice. The very morning after we got here, not long after
our breakfast, he appeared at our tent with a fine young deer slung
across the back of his horse, which he presented to us. He had just
killed it. It was most acceptable, as there was no fresh meat in camp.
He and his "pal" stayed around that day and night, and then quietly
disappeared. Not one of the soldiers, even, saw them go.

*About six years after this occurrence, there was a graphic account
in the Western papers of the horrible death of "Buckskin Joe," who
was known as one of the most daring and slippery horse thieves in the
Territory. After evading arrest many times, he was finally hunted down
by a sheriff's posse, when his fiendish fighting excited the admiration
of those who were killing him. A bullet broke one of his legs, and
he went down, but he kept on shooting--and so fast that no one dared
approach him. And when the forearm of his pistol hand was shattered, he
grasped the pistol with the other hand and continued to shoot, even
when he could not sit up, but had to hold himself up by the elbow of his
broken arm. He was finally killed, fairly riddled with bullets. He knew,
of course, all the time what his fate would be if taken alive, and he
chose the cold lead instead of the end of a rope.

It was pleasant to meet our old friends here. Colonel Palmer is in
command, and I was particularly glad to see them. After Mrs. Palmer had
embraced me she held me off a little and said: "What have you been doing
to your face? my, but you are ugly!" The skin on the blistered side has
peeled off in little strips, leaving the new skin very white in between
the parched brown of the old, so I expect I do resemble a zebra or an
Indian with his war paint on. The post, which is only a camp as yet,
is located at the upper end of a beautiful valley, and back of us is a
canon and mountains are on both sides. Far down the valley is a large
Indian village, and we can distinctly see the tepees, and often hear the
"tom-toms" when the Indians dance. There are other Indian camps near,
and it is not safe to go far from the tents without an escort. It seems
to be a wonderful country for game--deer, grouse, and prairie chicken.
Twice we have seen deer come down from the mountains and drink from the
stream just below the post. Bettie and I have scared up chicken every
time we have taken little runs around the camp, and Faye has shot large
bags of them. They are not as great a trea