t the wagon, helping to gather
the crushed form from the prairie, and giving assistance and sympathy in
such measure and earnestness as verified the truth of the words, "A
touch of sorrow makes the whole world kin."

When started again, the trail soon led to a stream, called the Big
Sandy; I believe it is in the northwest part of Fillmore County, where,
about nine o'clock, A. M., we were suddenly alarmed by the unearthly
whoops and yells of one hundred or more Indians (Pawnees), all mounted
and riding up and down across the trail on the open upland opposite us,
about a good rifle shot distant.

Our company was the only people there. A courier was immediately sent
back for reinforcements. We hastily put our camp in position of defense
(as we had been drilled) by placing our wagons in a circle with our
stock and ourselves inside. The Indians constantly kept up their noise,
and rode up and down, brandishing their arms at us, and every minute we
thought they would make a break for us.

We soon had recruits mounted and well armed coming up, when our Captain
assumed command, and all were assigned to their positions. This was kept
up until about four P. M., when we decided that our numbers would
warrant us in making a forward movement.

As a preliminary, skirmishers were ordered forward toward the creek,
through some timber and underbrush, I being one of them. My pardner and
I, coming to the creek first, discovered an empty whiskey barrel, and
going a little farther into the brush, discovered two tents. Creeping
carefully up to them, we heard groans as of some one in great pain.
Peeping through a hole in the tent we saw two white men, who, on
entering the tent, we learned were badly wounded by knife and bullet.
From them we learned the following facts, which caused all our fear and
trouble of the morning: The two white men were post-keepers at that
point, and, of course, had whiskey to sell. Two large trains had camped
there the night before; the campers got on a drunk, quarreled, and had a
general fight, during which the post-keepers were wounded. On the trail
over where the Indians were, some immigrants were camped, and a guard
had been placed at the roadside. One of the Indians, hearing the noise
down at the post, started out to see what was going on. Coming along the
trail, the guard called to him to halt, but as he did not do so the
guard fired, killing him on the spot. The campers immediately hitched up
and moved on.