For two miles I
followed through the sandhills before I dared to use my rifle.
The Indian riding at the rear had a revolver with which he kept banging
away, but I paid little attention to him. I knew a man shooting behind
with a pistol was likely to hit nothing but air. At last I took a
steady aim while old Joe was running smoothly. The bullet not only hit
the rear man, but passed through him and killed the man in front.
They both fell. I took another shot to make sure they were not playing
'possum. As they fell, Powder Face stopped and looked around, to learn
what it was all about. I called to him, and he came up to me.
Both Indians were wearing beautiful war-bonnets, of which I took
possession, as well as of their fancy trappings. Then, taking Powder
Face by the rope, I led him back to the Springs to see how the
lieutenant had made out.
The herd of horses was held and surrounded by a few soldiers. The rest
were still popping at the Indians. But most of the redskins were either
hidden among the marshes, or had got clear away to the surrounding
hills.
I found the lieutenant, and told him I thought we had accomplished all
that was possible. The orderly sounded the recall. I have never seen a
muddier set of boys than those who came out of the marsh and began
rummaging around the Indian camp. We soon discovered two or three
hundred pounds of dried meat--buffalo, deer, and antelope, also a
little coffee and sugar and an old kettle and tin cups which the
Indians had used.
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