It is a big bend in the Arkansas river almost encircling two or
three hundred acres, and where we camped it was not more than a
hundred yards across from one turn of the river to the other.
That night we drove all our horses into the bend and did not have
to guard them or keep out a camp guard. I remained out in the
hills, about three miles from camp, until dark, selecting a high
point and with my glasses watching all over the country for
Indians. The boys were all well pleased when I returned and told
them there were no red-skins anywhere near, and that they all
could lie down and sleep that night. They turned in early.
The next morning we broke camp early, and about eleven o'clock
came on to four emigrant wagons returning from Pike's Peak. The
Indians had stolen the horses.
There were sixteen men in the party and they had been there three
days and had not been two miles away from camp. They made some
kind of arrangement with the train we were with to haul their
things to St. Joe, Missouri, and left their four wagons standing
by the roadside.
We had no more trouble while with this train, and everything moved
along nicely.
When we were near Pawnee Rock, where we were to leave the train,
and some twenty miles from the Kiowa village, I met about thirty
Kiowa Indians going out to run the buffalo near there. Of course
they all knew me, and after shaking hands we stopped to await the
arrival of the train.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294