moment the strange sound reached his ears.
Of course, his first thoughts were of Indians, and the more he peered
through the darkness at the slowly moving object, the more convinced he
was that it must be a blood-thirsty savage.

He rose to his feet and blazed away, the shot rousing everbody, and all
came rushing with their guns to learn what the matter was.

Wooton told the wagon-master that he had seen what he supposed was an
Indian trying to slip up to the mules, and that he had killed him. Some
of the men crept very circumspectly to the spot where the supposed
dead savage was lying, while young Wooton remained at his post eagerly
waiting for their report. Presently he heard a voice cry out: "I'll be
d---d ef he hain't killed 'Old Jack!'"

"Old Jack" was one of the lead mules of one of the wagons. He had torn
up his picket-pin and strayed outside of the lines, with the result
that the faithful brute met his death at the hands of the sentry. Wooton
declared that he was not to be blamed; for the animal had disobeyed
orders, while he had strictly observed them![53]

At Pawnee Fork, a few days later, the caravan had a genuine tussle with
the Comanches. It was a bright moonlight night, and about two hundred
of the mounted savages attacked them. It was a rare thing for Indians
to begin a raid after dark, but they swept down on the unsuspecting
teamsters, yelling like a host of demons. They were armed with bows and
arrows generally, though a few of them had fusees.[54] They received a
warm greeting, although they were not expected, the guard noticing the
savages in time to prevent a stampede of the animals, which evidently
was the sole purpose for which they came, as they did not attempt to
break through the corral to get at the wagons. It was the mules they
were after. They charged among the men, vainly endeavouring to frighten
the animals and make them break loose, discharging showers of arrows as
they rode by. The camp was too hot for them, however, defended as it was
by old teamsters who had made the dangerous passage of the plains many
times before, and were up to all the Indian tactics. They failed to get
a single mule, but paid for their temerity by leaving three of their
party dead, just where they had been tumbled off their horses, not even
having time to carry the bodies off, as they usually do.

Wooton passed some time during the early days of his career at Bent's
Fort, in 1836-37. He was a great favourite wi