wound
sufficiently to be able to walk, and, although weak from the loss of
blood, picked up a rifle that had belonged to a fallen comrade and
again took his place at the head of his company. While in this
enfeebled condition he attempted to wade the river, but getting into
water beyond his depth was compelled to throw away his rifle and swim.
His failing strength now compelled him to seek shelter and lie down.

It soon became evident to General Gibbon that it would be unwise to
hold his position on the river bottom, where there was no adequate
cover for his men, and he reluctantly ordered them to fall back up the
hill and take cover in the mouth of a gulch, since known as "Battle
Gulch." They withdrew through the willow thickets to a position under
the hill, gallantly carrying their wounded comrades with them, and then
made a push for the timber. It was held by about twenty of the Indian
sharpshooters, who were killed, or driven from it only at the muzzles
of the soldiers' rifles. On the approach of the troops these Indians
took shelter in a shallow washout, not more than a foot deep and two or
three feet wide. Some of them were behind trees which stood beside this
trench.

One had a few large rocks piled about the roots of his tree, and from a
loophole through these he picked off man after man, himself secure from
the many shots aimed at him at short range by the soldiers. Finally,
however, a soldier, who was an expert marksman and cool as a veteran,
took a careful aim and sent a bullet into this loophole which struck
the rock on one side, glanced and entered the Indian's eye, passing out
at the back of his head--a veritable carom shot. This tree was girdled
with bullets, and the plucky Indian who lay behind it is said to have
killed five of the soldiers before the fatal missile searched him out.

While the main body of troops were clearing out this clump of woods,
the valiant band of regulars and volunteers who had been sent down the
river under Lieutenant Bradley to strike the lower end of the camp, now
turned and fought their way up through it; through the willow thickets;
through the sloughs and bayous; through the windings of the river;
killing an Indian and losing a man at every turn, and finally joined
the command in the woods.

But the gallant young leader of the band was not there. He had fallen
early in the fight; in fact, the first white man killed. He was leading
the left wing of the army in its assault