After I had ridden about twelve miles or so, and was just entering
the mouth of a little ravine, on looking up the same ravine I saw
three Indians who had just hove in sight over the hill. I dropped
back from their view as quick as I could, which only took about
two or three jumps of my horse.
The Indians having their backs toward me, I was confident they had
not seen me. They were heading for the emigrant trail, that being
what we called the wagon road across the plains in those days.
I rode around the point of a hill and tied my horse in a washout
where he would be hid from view, climbed up the top of the hill
and saw five warriors, riding direct for the trail. After watching
them for a short time I hurried back to my horse, mounted him and
rode as fast as Mexico could conveniently carry me over this
sagebrush country--about a quarter of a mile in an opposite
direction to which the Indians were traveling. Riding up to the
head of a little ravine, where I could tie my horse in a place
where he would not be discovered by the redskins, I dismounted,
tied my horse and crawled up through the sagebrush to the top of
the hill, where I could watch the movements of the Indians.
This was a rolling country, low hills covered with a heavy growth
of sagebrush, and not a tree of any description to be seen
anywhere.
I had discovered my game, but how to capture it was what puzzled
me.
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