attempted to stampede the herd picketed near the
camp. The whole party were on their feet in an instant with rifles in
hand, and all the savages got for their trouble were a few well-deserved
shots as they hurriedly scampered back to the river and over into the
sand hills on the other side, soon to be out of sight.

The expedition travelled sixteen miles next day, and camped at
Pawnee Rock, where, after the experience of the evening before, every
precaution was taken to prevent a surprise by the savages. The wagons
were formed into a corral, so that the animals could be secured in the
event of a prolonged fight; the guards were drilled by the colonel, and
every man slept with his rifle for a bed-fellow, for the old trappers
knew that the Indians would never remain satisfied with their defeat on
the Walnut, but would seize the first favourable opportunity to renew
their attack.

At dark the sentinels were placed in position, and to young Kit fell
the important post immediately in front of the south face of the Rock,
nearly two hundred yards from the corral; the others being at prominent
points on top, and on the open prairie on either side. All who were not
on duty had long since been snoring heavily, rolled up in their blankets
and buffalo-robes, when at about half-past eleven, one of the guard gave
the alarm, "Indians!" and ran the mules that were nearest him into the
corral. In a moment the whole company turned out at the report of a
rifle ringing on the clear night air, coming from the direction of the
rock. The men had gathered at the opening to the corral, waiting for
developments, when Kit came running in, and as soon as he was near
enough, the colonel asked him whether he had seen any Indians. "Yes,"
Kit replied, "I killed one of the red devils; I saw him fall!"

The alarm proved to be false; there was no further disturbance that
night, so the party returned to their beds, and the sentinels to their
several posts, Kit of course to his place in front of the Rock.

Early the next morning, before breakfast even, all were so anxious to
see Kit's dead Indian, that they went out en masse to where he was still
stationed, and instead of finding a painted Pawnee, as was expected,
they found the boy's riding mule dead, shot right through the head.

Kit felt terribly mortified over his ridiculous blunder, and it was a
long time before he heard the last of his midnight adventure and his
raid on his own mule. But he alwa