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Drannan, William F., 1832-1913

"Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains"

When we were within
about a quarter of a mile, it being nearly dark, we were just in
the act of tying our horses, intending to crawl up near their
camp, we heard a rumbling noise back in the direction from which
we had just come. I crawled quickly around the hill and saw
another band of Indians coming directly toward us, who were making
their way as we supposed to where the other Indians were camped. I
got back to my horse in less time than it took me to crawl away
from him, then we mounted and got away as we supposed,
undiscovered, and rode up a ravine and in a direction that we
would not be seen by the Indians. Not thinking ourselves in any
immediate danger, we did not hurry. After riding up the ravine
only a short distance, just as we rounded a curve, we were brought
face to face with another band of Indians. This was, I think, a
small band that had left the main band to hunt for game and were
just getting into camp, but we did not make any inquiries as to
what success they had in hunting, nor did we ask whether they had
been hunting at all.
The moment we saw them we drew our pistols and commenced firing,
and they returned the fire. We were almost entirely surrounded by
Indians, and I saw that it was no place for me, so I sang out to
George: "Let's breakthrough their ranks." "All right," said he,
and we drove the spurs into our horses with all vengeance, riding
about fifteen feet apart and succeeding in getting through unhurt,
and away we rode for quarters, closely followed by the redskins
Now we thought we were safe, and each in his own mind was
congratulating himself, when a ball struck me in the left hip
which paralyzed my whole side and wrecked my whole nervous system.


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