The captain detailed four men to act as a guard over the camp and stock during the night, each watching two hours and then calling up the one who was to relieve him, and this precaution was followed up throughout the expedition.
The men were tired from their long ride, and sought the comfort of their blankets at an early hour. As they had a ten days' journey before them to reach the buffalo range, it was agreed that they should start early each morning, and the camp fires were therefore ordered to be lit at four o'clock.
The journey was uneventful for several days. The road upon which the party had first traveled bearing off to the southwest, and the course of our party being due west, they left it. "Red River Frank" now sustained his good reputation as a guide by selecting with excellent skill and judgment the best portion of the country to travel in, avoiding the numerous swamps and sandy plains, finding safe and easy fords across the streams, and selecting good camp sites for each night.
They were now in a country where deer and turkeys were abundant, and their tables were bountifully supplied with fresh meat. They camped on the night of November 12 in a clump of tall cottonwood trees that skirted a small creek. Just at dusk a great rush of wings was heard in the air, and, looking in the direction from whence the sound came, a large flock of wild turkeys was seen sailing directly toward their camp, and, a moment later, they lit in the trees amongst which our party was camped. Instantly every rifle was brought forth, and the whole camp was ablaze with burning powder. The smoke floated up amongst the dazed and panic-stricken birds, who fluttered wildly and aimlessly from tree to tree, knocking their wings against each other and the dead limbs, and making a most frightful noise.
The hunters scattered and tongues of flame shot up from every quarter. Volley after volley was fired. The roar of the rifles interspersed with the "thud" and "crash" of falling birds, the shouts of the excited throng, the neighing of terrified horses, the barking of dogs, turned the quiet camp of a few moments ago into a veritable pandemonium. The slaughter went on for, perhaps, twenty minutes, when the more humane became ashamed of themselves and quit. Finally they prevailed upon their friends to desist, and the dead game was gathered up. Sixty-three of these noble birds had met their death, and the survivors were allowed to sit quietly and watch the camp fires till morning, when they sailed away toward the east.
In the afternoon of that day, Frank and the journalist were riding in advance of the column across a level, monotonous stretch of country, where there was little to attract attention or excite remark. They had already become warm friends and talked confidentially on many subjects, but Frank had said nothing of his past history, yet his strange demeanor at times had excited in the mind of the newspaper man an anxiety to know what had moved this refined, generous, scholarly young man to adopt a life so uncivilized as the one he was living.
"Frank," he finally said, "I have no wish to question you on a subject that you may not wish to speak on, yet I have observed many traits in you that are not found in other men of your calling. I am of the opinion that you have been bred in a very different sphere of life from this in which you now live. If you have no objection, I should like to know what motive prompted you to adopt this wild life."
He bit his lip and hesitated. Finally, after some moments, he said:
"Well, I'll tell you how it came about, and I'll make the story brief. It is similar to that of many another scout, in general, but different in detail, perhaps, from any of them. I was born and bred in an Eastern city, and was being educated for the ministry. My father failed in business and I was compelled to leave school. He gathered what little was left of his shattered fortune, and with his family emigrated to the far West. There he engaged in farming on what was then the frontier, but before we had been there six months we were awakened one morning at daylight by the yells of savage Indians, and, looking out, beheld them all around us. They were Comanches.
"Our house was burned. My father was tomahawked and scalped before our eyes, and my mother, my sister (who was older than I), and myself were carried into captivity. I was fortunate enough to escape. I returned and organized a pursuing party, but our efforts were fruitless, and a few months later I learned from a half-breed that death had relieved the sufferings of my mother and sister. That was twenty years ago. I was fifteen years old then, and from that day to this I have been on the trail of that tribe. I boast of nothing, but each year I feel better satisfied with my work. I hope that, in time, I may feel content to return East and engage in some lawful and more congenial pursuit."