Forty Years Among the Indians / A true yet thrilling narrative of the author's experiences among the natives

by Daniel W. Jones

I had a positive feeling that we were in danger. Shortly before sundown we started on intending to make a night drive to the next watering place. After traveling a short distance we came to a hollow where a rain-storm, just passing over, had deposited some good fresh water, and where grass and fuel were plentiful. On approaching camp we descended from a ridge some three hundred yards to a flat. There was an open space some one hundred yards wide to the right of the road. We drove to near the center of this opening. The brush around was about waist high and not very thick. I commenced gathering up fuel, the others unhitching and taking care of the animals.

After getting some dry brush ready, I was about striking a fire when we heard a noise of horsemen back on the road. The full moon was shining and on looking up we saw some eight or ten horsemen just disappearing over the ridge, going from us. As we were near the road and had neither seen nor heard any one passing, this surprised us not being able to account for the move.

Moore and myself took our guns and went up to where we had seen them, to reconnoiter. On getting to the summit of the ridge we could see the tracks plainly where they had come following after us, and on seeing us had turned suddenly and run back. They, no doubt, had expected us to continue on some eight miles farther to the creek before camping, and had run on us unexpectedly. While examining these tracks and trying to solve the mystery, we heard the noise of horses about two hundred yards from the road, and discovered a small clump of cedars in the direction, being on the same side of the road as our camp and just back from the summit of the ridge.

We decided at once that they were robbers following us; that they were tying up and hiding, intending to creep upon us afoot, being too cowardly to make an open attack. We hurried back to camp, intending to try and get to the timber on the creek. I gave orders to hitch up as quickly as possible. The two horsemen were to take the lead and run where the road was good, holding back where rough. I was to drive while Moore did the fighting from the wagon, if we were followed.

Our team was full of life, so much so that we had to change the bits on the leaders, putting on heavy curbbits, taking off the common ones with checks. This left the driving reins alone in the bits. The saddle horses were soon ready, one man holding them just in front of the team, three of us hitching as fast as possible. The mules commenced looking in the direction of the clump of cedars, now and then looking along the edge of the brush around us. I remarked that I believed they were surrounding us. Just as I was about taking the lines in hand, the team being all hitched except the wheel mules' traces, a shot was fired. I thought it came from one of our own party, so near by it seemed. I asked, "Who was that shooting?"

Moore answered, "You know as much about it as I do"

Suddenly several shots were fired. At this the mules started on the full run. I grabbed the nigh leader. The two men with horses now had hold of them, but were not mounted. All ran together, making a half circle back to the road about where we turned out, Moore holding to the off wheeler.

As we ran the shots came thick and fast from the brush, clear along the half-circle up to the road. Just as we struck the road, crossing it to the west—our direction of travel being to the north—shots commenced coming from the left side, one striking and killing the nigh wheel mule. This stopped the team, as the leaders alone could not pull the wagon and drag the dead mule.

The shots were now coming thick and fast from all sides. The lead mules were trying to get away. I called to Moore to cut the breast strap of the dead mule so that the leaders could continue toward open ground. He made a strike or two with his knife, but while doing so the off wheeler fell dead. An instant after the off leader fell. I now had hold of the only mule left standing.

The two horsemen were just in front of the team, and when it stopped they halted also. One of them, Daniel Dafney, I shall always remember for his coolness and courage. I felt like giving the word to run and abandon the team, but knowing that we were some eight hundred miles from home, did not much like the prospect of footing it through.