he point indicated, where we found the poor fellow
lying on his back. A bullet from that villian's musket had pierced his
heart. His watch, belt of cartridges, revolvers, and repeating carbine
were gone. After we returned with the body, Mr. A---- had the mill
whistle blown calling all hands to quarters and for three days and
nights with little sleep or rest we searched those hills and trails
leading to Salt Lake and Denver. We picketed men on each trail to
search all passing trains; but the demon gave us the slip, and cheated
that maddened crowd of a lynching, or something worse; perhaps a tug
of war between two wild bronchos, which we had in camp, with that
man's body as the connecting link.

I can to this day remember just how that poor fellow looked; cold in
death, far from home and loved ones, with no mother to weep at his
bier. With uncovered heads we lowered him in earth, in a rough box, at
the foot of one of the tall sentinels of the hills, and placed a slab
to mark the spot, that his friends might some day claim all that
remained of as brave and honest a German as ever lived.

A WATCHFUL PROVIDENCE

Thus by the toss of a coin was my life again spared. This last narrow
escape from death was the fourteenth of which I positively knew, and
how many more that I did not know of, it is impossible to tell; so I
made up my mind to get out of the country alive, if possible. I
informed Mr. A---- of my intentions and the following day closed my
business and at dusk that evening I started, unaccompanied, on a two
hundred mile ride over a trail watched by hundreds of blood-thirsty
Indians. I knew that no Indian pony could overtake my fleet runner,
and all that was to be feared was a surprise or have my horse shot
from under me. I camped far from the trail, with lariat fastened to my
wrist, never closing my eyes until my faithful animal had laid down
for the day. His first move at dusk awoke me, and, after feed, we
were off with the wind at breakneck speed.

At the close of the second day, while I lay sleeping on the desert
sands with the saddle blanket for a pillow, and dreaming of my far
away home, it seemed as if something of a slimy nature was slowly
crawling over the calf of my bare leg. On gaining partial
consciousness, too quickly did I realize that it was a reality and not
a dream. A rattlesnake's long slimy body was crossing that bridge of
flesh, squirming along for a couple of inches, then raising its
repulsiv