He said: "Let me
pull your boot off," at the same time taking hold of my boot. I
caught my leg with both hands to hold the bones together while the
boot was being removed from the leg, thinking that the bone was
shattered into small pieces. As soon as George had succeeded in
removing my boot from my foot, he turned the top of the boot
downward to let the blood run out of it. "Why," said he, "your leg
is not bleeding at all." I then commenced feeling my leg, but could
not feel or hear any bones work, so by the assistance of George I
got my breeches-leg up and there the ball stuck just between the
skin and the bone of my leg, and the boys had a good laugh at my
expense.
When I had learned that my leg was not broken, George and I
crawled down together into the canyon, and located the Indians. We
got so near that we could see the flash from their guns through
the fog. We then ascended the hill, mounted our horses, rode back
and reported to Gen. Wheaton. But the Indians had the advantage
over the soldiers from the fact that the soldiers' could be easily
distinguished from the rocks.
About one week later, George Jones, a young man named Savage, and
myself, went on just such another trip. It was our custom when
going into the canyon to leave one man in charge of our horses
until we returned, and in this case we left Savage with three
saddle horses and instructions to remain there until we returned.
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