ld
be for us, said:

"Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to Fort Kearney by wading in
the river and keeping the bank for a breast-work."

We all agreed that this was the best plan, and we accordingly proceeded
down the river several miles in this way, managing to keep the Indians at
a safe distance with our guns, until the slough made a junction with the
main Platte river. From there down we found the river at times quite
deep, and in order to carry the wounded man along with us we constructed
a raft of poles for his accommodation, and in this way he was
transported.

Occasionally the water would be too deep for us to wade, and we were
obliged to put our weapons on the raft and swim. The Indians followed us
pretty close, and were continually watching for an opportunity to get a
good range and give us a raking fire. Covering ourselves by keeping well
under the bank, we pushed ahead as rapidly as possible, and made pretty
good progress, the night finding us still on the way and our enemies
still on our track.

I being the youngest and smallest of the party, became somewhat tired,
and without noticing it I had fallen behind the others for some little
distance. It was about ten o'clock and we were keeping very quiet and
hugging close to the bank, when I happened to look up to the moon-lit sky
and saw the plumed head of an Indian peeping over the bank. Instead of
hurrying ahead and alarming the men in a quiet way, I instantly aimed my
gun at the head and fired. The report rang out sharp and loud on the
night air, and was immediately followed by an Indian whoop, and the next
moment about six feet of dead Indian came tumbling into the river. I was
not only overcome with astonishment, but was badly scared, as I could
hardly realize what I had done. I expected to see the whole force of
Indians come down upon us. While I was standing thus bewildered, the men,
who had heard the shot and the war-whoop and had seen the Indian take a
tumble, came rushing back.

"Who fired that shot?" cried Frank McCarthy.

"I did," replied I, rather proudly, as my confidence returned and I saw
the men coming up.

"Yes, and little Billy has killed an Indian stone-dead--too dead to
skin," said one of the men, who had approached nearer than the rest, and
had almost stumbled upon the corpse. From that time forward I became a
hero and an Indian killer. This was, of course, the first Indian I had
ever shot, and as I was not then more than