I sat down and leaned over on my saddle, but could not sleep. The scenes of the past two days were before me in vivid reality. The thought of carrying the wounded man with his life's blood dripping out of him along the trail, without his having the privilege of dying in peace, combined with the leaving of his body to be devoured by wolves and vultures, seemed almost too much to bear.
My imagination pictured another scene. South of us, in the distance, we could see a large fire, around which we presumed the Navajos were having a war dance over the scalp of our brother.
Then the thought of conveying the sad news to his father and mother and affectionate sister, all old and valued acquaintances of mine, pierced me like barbed arrows, and caused me the most bitter reflections that I have ever experienced in my life.
CHAPTER XI
At daydawn a Navajo came to us, and asked me to give him something as a present. I did so, and, as he turned away, I recognized Brother George A. Smith's revolver in his belt.
We were soon on our way for Spaneshanks' camp, where we found water, grass and friends.
That evening our Indian messenger came, and had an interview with Spaneshanks.
Our interpreter informed me that the message sent to our Navajo friends was, that they ought to kill us that night; and that Spaneshanks replied to the message that he was chief in that country and we should not be hurt.
We were further informed that the party that had done the mischief were from Fort Defiance.