ricades. There was a large number
of them, estimated at about seventy-five to one hundred, some on ponies
and some on foot. When the conformation of the ground disclosed their
whereabouts, we were within one hundred feet of them. They opened a
rapid fire on us, which we returned, while keeping up our rushing
advance. When we were within fifty feet of them, they turned and fled
down the street. We followed them for at least half a mile, firing as
well as we could. This took us beyond the burning houses, and finding a
large collection of saw logs, I called a halt and we took cover among
them, lying flat on the ground. The Indians stopped when we ceased to
chase them, and took cover behind anything that afforded protection, and
kept up an incessant fire upon us whenever a head or hand showed itself
above the logs. We held them, however, in this position, and prevented
their return toward the town by way of the street. I at once sent a
party back with instructions to burn every building, fence, stack or
other object that would afford cover between us and the barricades. This
order was strictly carried out, and by six or seven o'clock there was
not a structure standing outside of the barricades in that part of the
town. We then abandoned our saw logs and returned to the town, and the
day was won, the Indians not daring to charge us over an open country. I
lost four men killed in this exploit, one of whom was especially to be
regretted. I speak of Newell Houghton. In ordinary warfare, all men
stand for the same value as a general thing; but in an Indian fight, a
man of cool head, an exceptionally fine shot, and armed with a reliable
rifle, is a loss doubly to be regretted. Houghton was famous as being
the best shot and deer hunter in all the Northwest, and had with him his
choice rifle. He had built a small steamboat with the proceeds of his
gun, and we all held him in high respect as a fine type of frontiersman.
We had hardly got back to the town before a man brought me a rifle which
he had found on the ground near a clump of brush, and handing it to me
said, "Some Indian lost a good gun in that run." It happened that White
was with me, and saw the gun. He recognized it in an instant, and said:
"Newell Houghton is dead. He never let that gun out of his hands while
he could hold it." We looked where the gun was picked up, and found
Houghton dead in the brush. He had been scalped by some Indian who had
seen him fall, and had sne