, and jumping to the ground and
pulling the blanket and saddle off of Brigham, I told them what he had
done for me; they at once took him in charge, led him around, and rubbed
him down so vigorously that I thought they would rub him to death.

Captain Nolan, of the Tenth Cavalry, now came up with forty of his men,
and upon learning what had happened he determined to pursue the Indians.
He kindly offered me one of the cavalry horses, and after putting my own
saddle and bridle on the animal, we started out after the flying Indians,
who only a few minutes before had been making it so uncomfortably lively
for me. Our horses were all fresh and of excellent stock, and we soon
began shortening the distance between ourselves and the redskins. Before
they had gone five miles we overtook and killed eight of their number.
The others succeeded in making their escape. On coming up to the place
where I had killed the first horse--the spotted one--on my "home run," I
found that my bullet had struck him in the forehead and killed him
instantly. He was a noble animal, and ought to have been engaged in
better business.

When we got back to camp I found old Brigham grazing quietly and
contentedly on the grass. He looked up at me as if to ask if we had got
away with any of those fellows who had chased us. I believe he read the
answer in my eyes.

Another very exciting hunting adventure of mine which deserves a place in
these reminiscences occurred near Saline river. My companion at the time
was a man called Scotty, a butcher, who generally accompanied me on these
hunting expeditions to cut up the buffaloes and load the meat into a
light wagon which he brought to carry it in. He was a brave little fellow
and a most excellent shot. I had killed some fifteen buffaloes, and we
had started for home with a wagon-load of meat. When within about eight
miles of our destination, we suddenly ran on to a party of at least
thirty Indians who came riding out of the head of a ravine.

On this occasion I was mounted on a most excellent horse belonging to the
railroad company, and could easily have made my escape; but of course I
could not leave Scotty who was driving a pair of mules hitched to the
wagon. To think was to act, in those days; and as Scotty and I had often
talked over a plan of defense in case we were ever surprised by Indians,
we instantly proceeded to carry it out. We jumped to the ground,
unhitched the mules quicker than it had ever bee