Turning my glass toward the wagon, I could see a party of soldiers gathered around it. Soon the wagon started moving toward our camp, accompanied by the mounted men. The soldiers must have recaptured the mules and harness.
As the wagon party came down the grade from the upland at a brisk trot, it occurred to me that they would all be as hungry as coyotes, and, rushing down into the dugout, I began doing what I could to prepare something for them to eat.
Lieutenant Wilson came galloping on ahead to tell me the results of the fight at his end of the line, not knowing that I had witnessed nearly all of it through the glass. Jack and Tom, he said, were both wounded, but not seriously. They had killed three Kiowas and two ponies before the soldiers arrived, and the latter had killed five more Indians and captured several ponies in the attack at daylight.
I told the lieutenant what arrangement I had planned for feeding his men—which he said would be satisfactory—and also that we had grain enough to give his horses a feed but no hay.
As the wagon came up I rushed to it to congratulate my comrades on their escape and to ascertain the extent of their injuries.
"Only a few scratches," said Jack indifferently, in spite of his pale looks, as he climbed out of the wagon with his left arm in a sling. "I got an arrow through me arm, but Tom is worse hurted—a bullet through his thigh but no bones broke. Have you anything to eat?"
I helped Tom out and supported him on one side as he hobbled down to the dugout. Meantime, the lieutenant and his troopers were taking care of their horses, after which some of them unharnessed the mules for us while others started a fire and began to cook their breakfast.
As I entered the dugout with Tom, I noticed my blankets lying on the floor, where I had dropped them on my hurried entry the night before, and after helping the old man to a seat I gathered up the bedding to make him a pallet. In doing this the bullet that old Broken Nose had fired into the bundle dropped to the floor.
"There, Tom," I said as I picked it up and handed it to him, "is a last token from your old friend, Broken Nose."
"What? Has the old rascal been here? Why didn't you kill him?" he asked eagerly.