e, and a small party of horsemen were visible, but the
latter too far away to make out if they were United States Cavalrymen
or Indians. Looking again, without my glass, I discovered my horse
standing on a high knoll not more than a half mile away with head and
tail erect; the breath from his dilated nostrils ascending heavenward
in the cold October air and presenting a picture for an artist. I
called loudly, "Billie, Billie," and with outstretched hand walked
slowly toward him, but he looked not in my direction. All of a sudden
he made a quick bound and was off. My heart seemed to stop beating. A
minute seemed an hour; but I kept walking after him and he finally
stopped, turned around and faced me. That look can never be forgotten.
With ears thrown back, he came slowly toward me. Again, I called
"Billie, Billie," and held out both hands and with a whinner he came
on a gallop, trembling in every muscle, seemingly as frightened as
myself. I patted his neck, straightened out his rich heavy mane,
rubbed his face and nose and kissed him. He licked my cheek and hand
in appreciation of my welcome; moisture gathered in his large eyes and
I cried with joy--like a child that I was--and then we both felt
better. I coiled up the lariat and placed my right arm over his
perfectly formed neck and slowly walked to our little camp. I rubbed
him down until he was perfectly dry; then curried, brushed and rubbed
until I could almost see myself in his coat of silky hair. Then I made
him lay down and did the same thing myself, using his withers and mane
for a pillow. When I awoke the moon shown full in our faces. I patted
his neck and soon those large eyes were looking affectionately into
mine. I sprang to my feet and he did the same. After brushing off the
side on which he had laid, I placed the saddle blanket, buckled taut
the saddle, gathered up my small camp kit and fastened it to the rear
of the saddle, coiled the lariat and hung it on the pommel of the
saddle, fastened on my spurs--from which he had never felt even the
slightest touch--threw my field glass over my left shoulder, buckled
on my cartridge belt and revolvers, swung my canteen and Henry Carbine
over my right shoulder, and with a leap, landed astride the saddle,
and was off with the wind in search of the trail two full miles away.

THE INDIANS CAPTURE A FRIEND

Early on the morning of the third day, I stopped at a stage station,
where I met the assistant wagon boss who w