The rest of the savages endeavored to make their escape across the open country, which was filled with scattered bunches of the prickly pear, cactus, and cat-claw bushes. Some were on mules, and others on jaded horses. The Rangers rode hard after them and fired with deadly effect. The Indians had no guns—only bows and arrows—so they did but little damage.
As the chase continued, one young Ranger called Stoke Holmes, who rode a fast little pony, singled out an Indian and cried out:
“Watch me, Boys! I’m going to rope him!”
While he was running along and was swinging his lariat, the pony attempted to jump a large bunch of prickly pears. He reared so high that his rider lost his seat in the saddle and fell backwards into the terrible cactus. Some of his comrades saw the mishap. They quickly shot the redskin and then came rapidly to his rescue, as he was unable to get up. The valiant scout was in a sad plight. His body had thousands of pear thorns in it, and his clothing was pinned to him on all sides. He was in agonies of pain. Pulling him away from the grip of the cactus, the Rangers stripped off all of his clothing, extracted all of the large thorns, and endeavored to pull out the small ones. But this was an impossibility, as there were thousands of small needle-like prickers in his flesh. With a sharp knife the Ranger shaved them close to the skin so that his clothing would not irritate his body by rubbing against them. The bold young fellow was hardly able to ride for several days thereafter. As for the rest of the redskins,—only three escaped.
Not many months later Captain Hays and his men were close upon a band of Indians, who had been located by his scouts in a bunch of cedars. The Rangers had not eaten all day, because they had been hot in pursuit.
“Dismount, men,” cried the captain. “Stay here a few minutes and partake of the cold bread and beef in your saddle-bags. But, boys, by no means raise any smoke, or the redskins will surely see it, and will know that the Rangers are upon their trail.”
“You’re right, Captain!” cried many. “We are half famished.”
Captain Hays always had a few Mexicans with him, as they were good guides and trailers, but, upon this occasion, they lighted their cigarettes after eating and dropped the hot ashes into a pile of leaves. Smoke was soon curling above the tree-tops.
“Curse it, boys!” cried Captain Hays. “Did I not tell you not to set fire to anything. Put that out, immediately!”