o the camp
and saddled up two of the fastest horses, and at daylight we struck out
on his trail, which was plainly visible in the snow. He had got an hour
and a half the start of us. His tracks led us in the direction of the
mountains and the South Platte River, and as the country through which he
was passing was covered with prickly pears, we knew that he could not
escape stepping on them with his one bare foot, and hence we were likely
to overtake him in a short time. We could see, however, from the long
jumps that he was taking, that he was making excellent time, but we
frequently noticed, after we had gone some distance, that the prickly
pears and stones along his route were cutting his bare foot, as nearly
every track of it was spotted with blood.

We had run our horses some twelve miles when we saw Bevins crossing a
ridge about two miles ahead. Urging our horses up to their utmost speed,
we reached the ridge just as he was descending the divide towards the
South Platte, which stream was very deep and swift at this point. It
became evident that if he should cross it ahead of us, he would have a
good chance of making his escape. So pushing our steeds as fast as
possible, we rapidly gained on him, and when within a hundred yards of
him I cried to him to halt or I would shoot. Knowing I was a good shot,
he stopped, and, coolly sitting down, waited till we came up.

"Bevins, you've given us a good run," said I.

"Yes," said he, "and if I had had fifteen minutes more of a start and
got across the Platte, I would have laughed at the idea of your ever
catching me."

Bevin's run was the most remarkable feat of the kind ever known, either
of a white man, or an Indian. A man who could run bare-footed in the
snow eighteen miles through a prickly pear patch, was certainly a
"tough one," and that's the kind of a person Bill Bevins was. Upon
looking at his bleeding foot I really felt sorry for him. He asked me
for my knife, and I gave him my sharp-pointed bowie, with which he dug
the prickly pear briars out of his foot. I considered him as "game" a
man as I had ever met.

"Bevins, I have got to take you back," said I, "but as you can't walk
with that foot, you can ride my horse and I'll foot it."

We accordingly started back for our camp, with Bevins on my horse, which
was led either by Green or myself, as we alternately rode the other
horse. We kept a close watch on Bevins, for we had ample proof that he
needed watching.