Once the firing ceased, we hailed our men under the wagon and returned to it.  Three men were with the commissary, one of whom was a mere boy, who was wounded in the head from an arrow during the first moment of the attack, and was then raving piteously from his sufferings.  The darky cook, who was one of the defenders of the wagon, was consoling the boy, so with a parting word of encouragement we swung into our saddles and rode in the direction of dim firing up the creek.  The cattle were out of hearing, but the random shooting directed our course, and halting several times, we were finally piloted to the scene of activity.  Our hail was met by a shout of welcome, and the next moment we dashed in among our own and reported the repulse of the Indians from the wagon.  The remuda was dashing about, hither and yon, a mob of howling savages were circling about, barely within gunshot, while our men rode cautiously, checking and turning the frenzied saddle horses, and never missing a chance of judiciously throwing a little lead.  There was no sign of daybreak, and, fearful for the safety of our commissary, we threw a cordon around the remuda and started for camp.  Although there must have been over one hundred Indians in the general attack, we were still masters of the situation, though they followed us until the wagon was reached and the horses secured in a rope corral.  A number of us again sought the protection of the ravine, and scattering above and below, we got in some telling shots at short range, when the redskins gave up the struggle and decamped.  As they bore off westward on the main Clear Fork their hilarious shoutings could be distinctly heard for miles on the stillness of the morning air.

An inventory of the camp was taken at dawn.  The wounded lad received the first attention.  The arrowhead had buried itself below and behind the ear, but nippers were applied and the steel point was extracted.  The cook washed the wound thoroughly and applied a poultice of meal, which afforded almost instant relief.  While horses were being saddled to follow the cattle, I cast my eye over the camp and counted over two hundred arrows within a radius of fifty yards.  Two had found lodgment in the bear-skin on which I slept.  Dozens were imbedded in the running-gear and box of the wagon, while the stationary flashes from the muzzle of the cook’s Creedmoor had concentrated an unusual number of arrows in and around his citadel.  The darky had exercised caution and corded the six ox-yokes against the front wheel of the wagon in such a manner as to form a barrier, using the spaces between the spokes as port-holes.  As he never varied his position under the wagon, the Indians had aimed at his flash, and during the rather brief fight twenty arrows had buried themselves in that barricade of ox-yokes.