ed. It was not until Lieutenant
Strong and the rest of the men came up with them that they pushed ahead
and found the officer and his horse lying among the rocks by the
stream. Willett had been hurled out of saddle when the frenzied beast
went suddenly down, and there he lay, stunned and bleeding, while the
poor brute was quivering in the agonies of death.

"Did you see anything of 'Tonio?" Strong was asked, as a matter of
course.

"Not so much as a shred of his breechclout," said Strong, "nor of any
other Indian nearer than a mile away, and they were running for the
rocks. It was too dark to do any trailing." But for the shot that
killed Willett's horse, and the tremendous tales of the courier scouts,
Strong would have been inclined to say there were not a dozen Indians
in the north valley. "If there were more," said he, "and if they were
really hostile, even though afoot as they were, was it likely that two
couriers on worn-out horses could have escaped them? No," said Strong.
"There is something about it we don't understand, neither does Willett,
for all he's so positive."

But Strong admitted that two things puzzled him. The horse was
certainly shot, and Willett's Colt, the handsome revolver that he set
such store by, was certainly gone. Willett, when he came to, had asked
for it. He swore that he had drawn it from the holster, and was riding
at "raise pistol" when the shot was fired--that he clutched it as his
maddened horse tore blindly down the slope, and then, among the rocks,
stumbled, staggered and fell. Now revolver, holster, "thimble belt" of
cartridges--all were gone.

The couriers were made to tell their tale while the doctor and his
assistants were getting Willett to bed, and Willett, from several
conditions, was not easy to soothe and quiet. He had not been sparing
of the _spiritus frumenti_ that went with other medical supplies
in the ambulance. Archer and the surgeon saw it, and said nothing. That
was natural, possibly, under the circumstances, and could be controlled
later. Archer cross-questioned the couriers at some length. They had
not followed the Verde Valley southward. They had "lit out" along the
Mesa road, toward Baker's Butte, until they found the trail by way of
Hardscrabble and Granite Creek. They had succeeded in evading Apaches
until the third day out, and after leaving the East Fork they saw
smokes that made them wary, and once down in the Wild Rye Valley, and
in sight of the old Pi