king in the
opposite direction, and I saw him fire three shots from his carbine in
rapid succession. Dismounting the men, I made rapid preparations to
meet an attack, and proceeded to work our way slowly up the height,
and when we reached the narrow level at the top we found Hudson and
the two soldiers that formed our advance occupying a shelter among the
rocks to the left, and gazing down the opposite slope.

"What is it, Hudson?" I asked.

"A party of Indians attempted to jump me here. There they go
now--across that opening in the sage-brush!"

A dozen Indians dashed across an open space south of the road, but too
far away for effective shooting, and then two more passed over,
supporting a third between them.

"You must have hit one of them."

"I tried to. I think another was hurt more seriously, by the way he
acknowledged my shot."

"Are you hurt?"

"A slight scratch on the arm near the shoulder, and my horse is hurt."

An examination of Hudson's arm proved that the scratch was not
serious, but I thought it best to exchange his horse for one belonging
to a soldier. We then went on, Frank and I walking in advance of the
ambulance mules.

"There's something down there in the road by Ferrier's grave, sir,"
said Corporal Duffey. "Looks like a dead man."

"Is that where Ferrier was killed?" I asked.

"Yes, sir; I was in command of the detail that came here to look him
up. He had built a little stone fort on that knoll up yonder, and kept
the redskins off three days. He kept a diary, you remember, which we
found. He killed six of them, and might as many more, but he couldn't
live without sleep or food, and the rascals got him. They scattered
the mail in shreds for miles about here."

"Who was Ferrier?" Frank asked.

"He was a discharged California volunteer, who rode the express before
Mr. Hudson."

"Do you think Mr. Hudson knew his predecessor had been killed?"

"Yes; the incident was much talked of at the time."

We were nearing the object in the road. Suddenly the mules caught
sight of it, backed, and crushed the ten-gallon keg under the axle
against a bowlder--a serious mishap, as our after experience will
show. Walking on, we came to the mutilated bodies of two men, several
yards apart, whom we had no difficulty in recognizing to be the
tradesmen Bell and Sage. With axe, bayonets, and tin cups we dug a
shallow grave beside Ferrier's. We placed the bodies side by side, and
heaped a pyramid of ston