Fully convinced that we were in the presence of an enemy determined to kill or capture our little party, no attempt was made to parley. The ponies were hurriedly drawn together so as to form a barrier against the assaults of the Indians, who were now in short range and gradually closing in upon us. As they galloped around us, the Indians formed a circle and kept up an incessant fire, to which we replied over the backs of our ponies, but with little effect, as from their mode of attack they were a constantly shifting target and difficult to reach, even with the best weapons in use. My own equipment consisted of a carbine, such as I had used in the cavalry service during the Civil War, and a 22-calibre Colt's revolver. Gordon and the Mexican were each provided with a Winchester rifle and navy revolver, while nearly all the Arrapahoes were armed with Winchesters and revolvers.
But few moments were required to settle the unequal contest. Four of our horses fell in rapid succession, including my own mustang; in the meantime we brought down one Indian and three ponies. The Indian was instantly killed by a shot from the Mexican.
On seeing one of their number fall, the Arrapahoes rushed upon us with deafening yells, and with such force as to render resistance useless. Our arms were taken from us, our horses quickly seized, and, in much less time than it takes to tell it, we were mounted and riding at a rapid pace to the northward, under a guard of six well-armed Indians, who were carefully instructed as to their duties by their chief, Lone Wolf. The remainder of the band were more or less occupied in scouring the country for horses and other plunder, wanted for their encampment in the Black Hills.
DECIDING THE FATE OF THE CAPTIVES.
We rode at a trot or gallop until about ten o'clock at night, when a halt was ordered by the chief, and all dismounted; a fire was built and some antelope meat, secured during the day, was partially roasted and distributed among the Indians and their captives. We were for some time squatted around a big fire—our captors engaged in earnest conversation. Gordon understood enough of their language to interpret that the discussion related to their prisoners—that the friends of the Indian killed at Skull Rocks, and who were in the majority, were in favor of putting all of their prisoners to death for having shot one of their number. Lone Wolf, however, interposed, saying it would be enough to take the life of him who had killed their brother. Supper over, four Arrapahoes approached us and seized the herder who had fired the fatal shot. They led him to a stake which had been driven in the ground about fifty yards from the bivouac; to this stake he was firmly bound by lariat ropes. All of the Indians then began dancing around and torturing their victim in the most brutal manner conceivable. Arrow-heads were heated in the fire and held against his naked person. Three or four of the Indians made a target of their captive, and amused themselves by hurling at him their sharp-pointed knives, which, penetrating his body, remained imbedded in the flesh, until he was nearly exhausted with pain and loss of blood. These tortures were continued until our unfortunate comrade lost consciousness, when one of the Arrapahoes, more humane than his associates, advanced and ended his sufferings by a pistol-shot in the head.
In the meantime Gordon and I were seated on the ground, bound together, and unable to offer any relief to our suffering companion, who bore his tortures with a greater degree of composure and fortitude than I ever witnessed on the battle-field or within the walls of the dungeon, and, while no stately column or monumental pile marks his resting-place, he deserves to sleep beside the heroic martyrs of the border who have risked life and suffered privation and hardship for the advancement of a higher civilization.
Having disposed of the Mexican, several of the Indians now approached Gordon and myself, and, separating us, seized me roughly by the arms, and, dragging me to the stake, bound me to it and commenced a series of dances, accompanied by much gesticulation and taunting, which they doubtless intended as a sort of introduction to tortures which were to follow. Lone Wolf, who had from the first seemed friendly, but who was at this time some distance from the camp-fire, now rushed to my rescue and dispersed our inhuman captors, who were loath to desist from their devilish work. A few minutes later a brother of the Indian killed at Skull Rocks removed the scalp of the Mexican, and, after he had fastened it to his belt, all began dancing around the fire, singing and shouting until they were thoroughly exhausted, when they squatted upon the ground, apparently regretting that they had not been permitted to put more trophies in their scalp locks.