We started to meet them on the dead run, and I wish to say here now, that Jim Bridger, though a very brave man, was very exciteable when in an Indian fight, and as we started I said to him:  “Now Jim, for God’s sake keep cool this time and make every shot count.”

When within about a hundred yards of the Indians, and our horses doing their best, I raised my rifle and fired, killing the leader dead.  I then drew my pistol and raised the yell.  About that time, from some cause, Jim’s horse shied off to the right, so when we met the Indians he and I were about thirty or forty yards apart.  Jim claimed that his horse scared at something in the sage brush.

Two of the Indians that seemed to be the best mounted made a break for our horses, which I discovered after I had fired two shots from my pistol.  I wheeled my horse and made a rush for them, leaving Jim to take care of the other three that we had not yet killed.  But the redskins had got too far the start of me, and being on good animals they beat to the pack horses, and before I got in gunshot of them they had killed both the boy and his horse.  Had the poor boy kept his presence of mind he might have saved himself, but I think he got excited and did not try to get away.

I got one of them, but the other having the fastest horse, outran me and made his escape.  I think he had the fastest horse I ever saw under an Indian in my life.  Jim Bridger killed one of the remaining three, and the others got away.  Three out of nine escaped, and had it not been for Jim’s horse getting scared I don’t think they would have killed our Mexican boy.

We dug a grave and buried the poor fellow as best we could under the circumstances, scalped the Indians, packed up and pulled out, leaving the poor unfortunate lad to rest on the lonely banks of the Arkansas river.  The Indians we left a prey to the many wild animals that roamed the hills and valleys.

We traveled on with heavy hearts, expecting at any time to be attacked again by another band of these “noble red men,” fearing that we might not be so successful the next time.

In the afternoon we came to where the Indians had had another fight with what we supposed, and which afterwards proved to have been emigrants, returning from Pike’s Peak.  Here we saw four fresh graves, and from the general appearance of things we concluded that the fight had been in the morning, which also proved to be the case.

We were now satisfied that the big trail we had seen the day before was made by Sioux, and that they had split up into small bands to catch small trains of emigrants.

Being satisfied that these emigrants were not far ahead of us, we made up our minds to push on and try to overhaul them, as much for our own protection as anything else.

Jim Bridger told me to take the lead and ride as fast as I wished, and he would make the pack animals keep up; also telling me when on high ground to take my glasses and look for Indians.