So for twelve miles I rode with Sherman, and we became fast friends. He asked me all manner of questions on the way, and I found that he knew my father well, and remembered his tragic death in Salt Creek Valley. He asked what had become of the rest of the family and all about my career. By the end of the ride I had told him my life history.
As we were riding along together, with the outfit following on, I noticed pony tracks from time to time, and knew that we were nearing the Springs. Presently I said:
"General, we are going to find Indians at the Springs when we reach there."
"How do you know?"
"We have been riding where ponies have been grazing for the last mile."
"I haven't seen any tracks," said the General in surprise. "Show me one."
I jumped off my horse, and, thrusting the buffalo grass aside, I pointed out many tracks of barefooted ponies. "When we rise that ridge," I told him, "we shall see the village, and thousands of ponies and Indian lodges."
In a very few minutes this prophecy came true. Curtis and the other scouts with the officers rode up quickly behind us, and we all had a fine view of this wonderful sight of the desert—a great Indian camp. As we stood gazing at the spectacle we observed great excitement in the village. Warriors by the dozens were leaping on their horses and riding toward us, till at least a thousand of them were in the "receiving line."
"It looks to me as if we had better fall into position," said Sherman.
"It is not necessary," I said. "They have given us the peace sign. They are coming toward us without arms."