I DISENTANGLED MYSELF AND JUMPED BEHIND
THE DEAD BODY OF THE HORSE.
This proved to be a lucky march for us, as far as gaining on Penrose was concerned; for the route he had taken on the west side of the stream turned out to be a bad one, and we went with our immense wagon train as far in one day as Penrose had in seven. His command had marched on to a plateau or high tableland so steep that not even a pack mule could descend it, and he was obliged to retrace his steps a long way, thus losing three days’ time, as we afterward learned.
From this point on, for several days, we had no trouble in following Penrose’s trail, which led us in a southeasterly direction toward the Canadian River. No Indians were seen, nor any signs of them found. One day, while riding in advance of the command down San Francisco Creek, I heard some one calling my name from a little bunch of willow brush on the opposite bank, and upon looking closely at the spot, I saw a negro.
“Sakes alive! Massa Bill, am dat you?” asked the man, whom I recognized as one of the colored soldiers of the Tenth Cavalry. I next heard him say to some one in the brush: “Come out o’ heah. Dar’s Massa Buffalo Bill.” Then he sang out, “Massa Bill, is you got any hawdtack?”
“Nary a hardtack; but the wagons will be along presently, and then you can get all you want,” said I.
“Dat’s de best news I’s heerd foah sixteen long days, Massa Bill,” said he.
“Where’s your command? Where’s General Penrose?” I asked.
“I dun’no’,” said the darky; “we got lost and we’s been starvin’ eber since.”
By this time two other negroes had emerged from their place of concealment. They had deserted Penrose’s command—which was out of rations and nearly in a starving condition—and were trying to make their way back to Fort Lyon. General Carr concluded, from what they could tell him, that General Penrose was somewhere on Palladora Creek; but we could not learn anything definite, for they knew not where they were themselves.