“Have any of you men a loaded rifle?” he asked.
“I have,” answered a scout called Gillespie.
“Then dismount, my boy,” said the Ranger Captain, “and make sure work of that chief.”
Gillespie was a brave man. He had been badly wounded by an Indian spear which had gone clean through his body. He was hardly able to sit his horse, but, slipping to the ground, took careful aim and fired. As his rifle cracked, the chief fell head-long from his horse.
It is a strange thing, but Indians always lose heart when their leader is slain. Wailing loudly, the Comanches now left the field, pursued by a portion of the Texans. They carried their chieftain safely away, in spite of the fact that they were pressed very closely by the Rangers. Thirty Indians lay dead upon the battle-ground, while only two of the Texan frontiersmen had been killed. Five, however, were badly wounded; chief among whom was Gillespie, who had really ended the fight.
Captain Hays and his men went back to San Antonio well satisfied with the day’s work. A month later he had another desperate encounter with the Comanches.
With twenty of his men the gallant Ranger was on a scout near the “Enchanted Rock.” This was a depression in a hill, which was conical in shape, and was doubtless the crater of an extinct volcano. A dozen or more men could hide in this place and put up a stout defense against a great number of enemies, as the ascent was steep and rugged. Not far from the bottom of this curious hillock the Rangers were attacked by a large force of Comanches.
When the first shot was fired, Captain Hays was some distance from his men, looking about in order to see whether or not he could discover the whereabouts of the Indians. As he turned to run towards the “Enchanted Rock,” he was cut off and was closely pursued by a number of red warriors.