eleven years of age, my
exploit created quite a sensation.

The other Indians, upon learning what had happened to their "advance
guard," set up a terrible howling, and fired several volleys at us, but
without doing any injury, as we were so well protected by the bank. We
resumed our journey down the river, and traveled all night long. Just
before daylight, Frank McCarthy crawled out over the bank and discovered
that we were only five miles from Fort Kearney, which post we reached in
safety in about two hours,--shortly after _reveille_--bringing the
wounded man with us. It was indeed a relief to us all to feel that once
more we were safe.

Frank McCarthy immediately reported to the commanding officer and
informed him of all that had happened. The commandant at once ordered a
company of cavalry and one of infantry to proceed to Plum Creek on a
forced march--taking a howitzer with them--to endeavor to recapture the
cattle from the Indians.

The firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell had a division agent at Kearney,
and this agent mounted us on mules so that we could accompany the troops.
On reaching the place where the Indians had surprised us, we found the
bodies of the three men whom they had killed and scalped, and literally
cut into pieces. We of course buried the remains. We caught but few of
the cattle; the most of them having been driven off and stampeded with
the buffaloes, there being numerous immense herds of the latter in that
section of the country at that time. The Indian's trail was discovered
running south towards the Republican river, and the troops followed it to
the head of Plum Creek, and there abandoned it, returning to Fort Kearney
without having seen a single red-skin.

The company's agent, seeing that there was no further use for us in that
vicinity--as we had lost our cattle and mules--sent us back to Fort
Leavenworth. The company, it is proper to state, did not have to stand
the loss of the expedition, as the government held itself responsible for
such depredations by the Indians.

On the day that I got into Leavenworth, sometime in July, I was
interviewed for the first time in my life by a newspaper reporter, and
the next morning I found my name in print as "the youngest Indian slayer
on the plains." I am candid enough to admit that I felt very much elated
over this notoriety. Again and again I read with eager interest the long
and sensational account of our adventure. My exploit was related in a