for the first time what terrible
danger I was in. Slowly turning the team to the right, I began a
circle, hardly perceptible at first, but finally again reaching the
trail. On the return trip, I plied the long lash to the leading pair.
They shot forward faster than ever, all steaming with foam and covered
with lather. At a great distance to the south I could see a party of
Indians riding in the same direction. This additional danger seemed
fairly to intoxicate me and I plied the whip with all my strength. The
corral loomed up and then the stage station. The others, with hands
in their pockets and mouth agap, were holding their breath; and, as we
wheeled past them, the cowboys lashing the bronchos, a mighty shout
went up. I had won the wager and was the lion of the day.

We did not make a start until the following morning. We fastened the
bronchos together and tied the leader to the rear of the coach, and
thus resumed our journey to the hills, where we safely arrived two
days later, but minus four of the treacherous brutes. At night we
always picketed them with the mules and the four that were lost had
pulled their picket irons and undoubtedly gone to join the much read
of "wild horses of the plains."

The camp in the hills consisted of shanties for fifteen hundred men,
saw mill, and outfit store. The latter included in its stock plenty of
the best kind of liquor. Each man was allowed three drinks a day and
no more.

I had the books straightened out in due time and one day the
contractor discovered he would soon be out of flour, and the nearest
point at which it could be purchased was La Port, seventy-five miles
distant. The Indians were troublesome, and each man who was asked
refused to go, with one exception. The contractor finally made me a
tempting offer to accompany a driver of a six mule team. I accepted,
and at break of day the next morning we started. My companion on that
dangerous trip was a plucky son of the Emerald Isle. We camped that
night on Lodge Pole Creek. On the opposite side was an adobe ranch,
and an immense stockade owned by a Frenchman with a Sioux squaw for a
wife.

In our hurried start we had forgotten our tobacco, and without it my
companion seemed lost. After grub I mounted my horse, and crossed over
the creek to procure some. On making my wants known, I was freely
supplied with tobacco, and was also informed that before we arrived
they had been fighting the Indians for some time; that one