I knew well enough that in another second he would
drop one of my friends. So I raised my Yaeger and fired. I saw the
figure collapse, and heard it come tumbling thirty feet down the bank,
landing with a splash in the water.
McCarthy and the rest of the party, hearing the shot, came back in a
hurry.
"What is it?" asked McCarthy, when he came up to me.
"I don't know," I said. "Whatever it is, it is down there in the
water."
McCarthy ran over to the brave. "Hi!" he cried. "Little Billy's killed
an Indian all by himself!"
Not caring to meet any of this gentleman's friends we pushed on still
faster toward Fort Kearney, which we reached about daylight. We were
given food and sent to bed, while the soldiers set out to look for our
slain comrades and to try to recover our cattle.
Soldiers from Fort Leavenworth found the herders, killed and mutilated
in the Indian fashion. But the cattle had been stampeded among the
buffalo and it was impossible to recover a single head.
We were taken back to Leavenworth on one of the returning freight
wagon-trains. The news of my exploit was noised about and made me the
envy of all the boys of the neighborhood. The Leavenworth _Times_,
published by D.B. Anthony, sent a reporter to get the story of the
adventure, and in it my name was printed for the first time as the
youngest Indian slayer of the Plains.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32