“After the first two days we traveled at night and camped in a concealed place during the day. Slowly we stole forward, until at last we came near a small village of The Peaked Hats, where some fine horses and mules were reported to be had by advancing with boldness and skill.
“My own ponies were poor and weak and as I saw the horses about this village I became very eager to own some of them. Especially did I desire a fine sorrel mare. It was not easy to get her, for these people had been many times raided by the Comanches and were very careful to round up their best animals at night and put them into a high corral. Nevertheless, I told my brothers to be ready and that I myself would adventure to the gate, open it, and drive forth our prizes.
“My wife begged me to give up my plan. She wept and clung to my arm. ‘It will lead to evil, I feel it,’ she said. ‘You will be killed.’ But I had given my word. I could not fail of it. ‘Take my wife,’ I said sternly to my younger brother. ‘Take her and the little one and ride northward toward that black butte. I will meet you there at daybreak,’ I said.
“My wife took our little daughter in her arms, and my brother led them away. I could hear my wife moaning as she rode into the dark night——”
Again the deep voice faltered, as the memory of this parting wail came back to him, but he soon resumed quietly: “Slowly I crept forward. I reached the corral, but could not find the gate. It was on the side nearest the village and as I crept round feeling of the poles, the dogs began to bark. I kept on, however, and at last found and tore down the bars. Entering the corral, I began to lash the horses with my lariat. As the sorrel was about to pass me I caught her and leaped upon her back. In a few moments I was driving the whole herd like a whirlwind across the plain.
“My brother joined me and we tried to turn the herd northward, but the leaders gave me great trouble. At last some of them escaped and returned to the village. We heard shouting, we were pursued. Roping and tying some of the best of the ponies we could overtake, we drove them before us toward the butte, well pleased with our capture.
“We traveled hard, overtaking my brother and my wife and baby girl, but thereafter we were unable to make speed on account of the child and its mother, and on account of the horses, two of which were fine but very stubborn. I could not consent to set them loose though I knew I was endangering my dear ones by delay. It was very foolish and I was made to suffer for my folly.
“The Mexicans must have had other horses hidden and ready saddled, for they came swiftly on our trail and before long they began to shoot. Almost the first shot they fired struck my wife in the back, and passing entirely through her body wounded my little daughter. I turned then and began to shoot in return and my pursuers fell back. We abandoned all the horses but two and when my wife told me of her hurt I took my little girl in my arms and rode fast for a place of concealment. My wife was badly crippled and got upon another horse, and followed me closely.
“That day we spent in swiftest flight—using every precaution to conceal our trail. I did not know how sadly mangled my child was, but she moaned with pain and that nearly broke my heart, and yet I dared not stop. I realized how crazy I had been to bring her into this land, but my repentance came too late. At every stream I gave her water to drink and bathed her wound, but it was of no avail—she died in my arms—”
The warrior stopped abruptly. His lips quivered and his eyes were dim with memories too sad for speech. For some minutes he sat in silence, the tears rolling down his browned and wrinkled cheeks. At last he brokenly resumed.