The side towards the door was all ablaze and escape that way was
impossible, so I picked up a chair and slammed it through the window
over the table, and climbed out taking a loose set of instruments with
me. The wires were still working, and above the crackle of the flames I
heard "DS" still calling me. I reached in through the window and simply
said,

"Indians--depot on fire--have saved a set of instruments--will call you
later when I can fix a wire," and signed my name, "Bates."

My lungs were filled with smoke and felt like they had a million sharp
needles sticking in them, but thanks to my lucky stars, I was not
otherwise hurt. Everything appeared so quiet and still that I was dazed,
but presently I heard a low mumbling of voices out to the westwards. I
made my way thither and found the population (all that was left of it),
assembled. When I staggered up to a group of the men, they turned on me
like tigers, not knowing what kind of an animal I was. I recognized one
of them who was commonly known as "Full-House Charley," and weakly said,

"Don't shoot, Charley, it's Bates the night operator at the depot."

"Well! where the devil have you been all the time? When the depot was
burning some of us went over there, but you'd gone some place. We
couldn't save anything so we let 'er burn. Your side partner, the day
man, was killed and scalped."

It appeared that just as the fight was the hottest, three troops of
the --th U. S. Colored Cavalry, appeared on the scene, having been on
the trail of this same band all day. They made short work of the red men
who melted away to the fastnesses of the Mogollons, first setting fire
to the depot, the troops in close pursuit. If there ever were faithful
hard working fighters in that country, it was these same dusky
brunettes.

I told the gang where I had been, and in a few minutes several of them
went over to the station to help me rig up a wire. I knew the
despatcher's wire, and taking a pole's length out of another line, I
soon made a connection to the instrument I had saved. It was no go--the
wire was dead open. Then I rigged up a ground by running a wire to a
pipe that ran down the well, and in testing I found the wire was open
west. I called up "DS," who was east of-me, and told him what a nice hot
old time we had been having out there.

"Yes," he said, "I knew there was trouble. Just after you told me about
the Indians and fire, Clear Creek said their place was attacked