wer to your request. It was on
the 1st day of June, 1867, the same year that the Right Reverend
Bishop Tuttle went out to his jurisdiction (whom I met a few days
after the adventure at the North Platte Station). The scene of the
adventure was Fairview Station, which was a deserted ranch about
ten miles east of "Fort Wicked," or Godfrey's ranch. The station
house had been burned, and the high adobe walls with an open front
entrance, facing the road, were left standing. About half-past two
P.M. we stopped at "Godfrey's" for a change of horses and
refreshments. I was the only passenger, and as we started on, the
company consisted of the driver, myself inside the coach, and two
horsemen, "stock leaders" (employed by the stage company to transfer
stock from one point to another), four in all. Unsuspectingly, we
went straight into the Indian's trap. It was about four P.M. I sat
on the front seat with my back to the driver, the windows being
down. The first thing that caught my attention was the discharge of
a number of rifles, some of the balls crashing through the sides of
the coach.

The Indians were well armed with rifles, bows and arrows, and were
all mounted. Instantly I seized my revolver (a small six-shooter),
and made ready to defend myself. I saw the two horsemen wheel their
horses and start back towards "Godfrey's" Station. They were just a
little behind the coach. The driver also yelled at his horses and
gave them a short turn, for the same purpose, no doubt. While we
were turning round, a tall Indian rode up close to the coach-window
and looked in, and as he did so I looked out; our faces met only
about six feet apart. He had a rifle in one hand; I saw him drop
his rein and grasp his gun with both hands. I heard the click of
the trigger. I could easily have shot him, having my revolver in my
hand, but I did not,--why I do not know. It was well that I did
not, as it proved. I dropped under the coach-window to avoid his
fire, if possible. He fired and rode on quickly ahead, his shot
being delivered either at the driver or myself, I know not which.
The horses and coach were now turned about and faced towards
"Godfrey's," and were running as only thoroughly frightened horses
will run. They were large, powerful animals, four in number. The
Indians had meantime divided themselve