the cavalry recruit of the old regular army on
the frontier, thirty or forty years ago, mounted on a great big American
horse and sent out with well-trained comrades on a scout after the
hostile savages of the plains, was the most helpless individual
imaginable. Coming fresh from some large city probably, as soon as he
arrived at his station he was placed on the back of an animal of whose
habits he knew as little as he did of the differential calculus; loaded
down with a carbine, the muzzle of which he could hardly distinguish
from the breech; a sabre buckled around his waist; a couple of enormous
pistols stuck in his holsters; his blankets strapped to the cantle of
his saddle, and, to complete the hopelessness of his condition in a
possible encounter with a savage enemy who was ever on the alert, he was
often handicapped by a camp-kettle or two, a frying-pan, and ten days'
rations. No wonder this doughty representative of Uncle Sam's power was
an easy prey for "Poor Lo," who, when he caught the unfortunate soldier
away from his command and started after him, must have laughed at the
ridiculous appearance of his enemy, with both hands glued to the pommel
of his saddle, his hair on end, his sabre flying and striking his horse
at every jump as the animal tore down the trail toward camp, while the
Indian, rapidly gaining, in a few minutes had the scalp of the hapless
rider dangling at his belt, and another of the "boys in blue" had joined
the majority.

The scouting-party had proceeded about four or five miles, when one of
the corporals asked permission for himself and a recruit to go over to
the Upper Walnut to find out whether they could discover any signs of
Indians.

While they were carelessly riding along the big curve which the northern
branch of the Walnut makes at that point, there suddenly sprang from
their ambush in the timber on the margin of the stream about three
hundred Indians, whooping and yelling. The two troopers of course,
immediately whirled their horses and started down the creek toward the
camp, hotly pursued by the howling savages.

The corporal was an excellent rider; a well-trained and disciplined
soldier, having seen much service on the plains. He led in the flight,
closely followed by the unfortunate recruit, who had been enlisted but a
short time. Not more than an eighth of a mile had been covered, when the
corporal heard his companion exclaim,--

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

Looking