anole and jerked beef.

The parley was very unsatisfactory, as the Indians were surly, and made
demands which it was impossible to grant. There were about twenty-five
Indians at the council, and fifty or more on the surrounding ledges. As
the Indians became more hostile the situation became more serious, and
it was evident to the Americans that they were surrounded, and in
imminent danger of massacre.

Woolsey was not only a brave but a very intelligent man, and he saw at
once that either the Americans or the Indians were to be slaughtered, so
he said: "Boys, we have got to die or get out of this. Each of you pick
out your Indian, and I will shoot the chief for a signal."

The fusillade commenced, and all the Indians that could run stampeded.
The only American killed was Lennon, a half brother of Ammi White, my
Indian agent at the Pima villages.

Lennon had picked out his Indian and sent a bullet to his heart; but the
Indian in the agonies of death made a lunge at Lennon with his spear and
transfixed him. They both fell at the Bloody Tanks in the embrace of
death.

The Americans rescued Lennon's body, and having strapped it over a pack
mule, carried it away to the next camp, where it was buried with
Christian services at the foot of an aspen tree.

The Americans brought away twenty-four scalps.

After the Bloody Tanks affair some of the men engaged in it came into
the Pima villages, where I was in camp. J. Ross Browne, who was with me,
took down the account in short hand, and I made a list of the Americans
engaged in the expedition. I remember, when Browne got through with his
stenography, he asked one of the men if he had any Indian relics. The
man replied, "Yes, I have got some jerked years," and he presented
Browne about a dozen "jerked years" strung on buckskin.

I concluded to make a scout up country and see what was going on among
the Indians, and as there were no troops at my command I organized a
company of Pimas and Maricopas as scouts. They had recently received
arms and ammunition from the government, and I had uniforms and swords
enough for the officers. They soon learned to drill, and already knew
how to shoot.

The commissariat was not quite up to military regulations, but we set
out all the same, following along the Hassayamp to Antelope Peak, when
we turned east by Walnut Creek to the Verde over an infernal trail.

The way down the Verde was not much better, as the Black Canon has never
been