Up to this time I had not seen any fresh Indian sign whatever, and had about concluded that we would not have any trouble this winter with them.  After riding about ten miles or so I came to a nice little brook, and there being fine grass, I stopped and let my horse feed for an hour or more.  I was riding my old Pinto that day and he was also feeling fine.

About one o’clock I mounted Pinto and started south, striking for a high mountain, from which if I could once reach the top, I could, with the aid of my glasses, see all over the entire country.  While climbing this mountain I ran on to a bear cub.  Seeing that he was very fat, I shot him and lashed him behind my saddle, and was soon climbing the mountain again, which was, in places, steep and very rocky, with scattering pine trees here and there.  After going about a half a mile and just as I came to the top of a steep little pitch, I came face to face with a band of Apache Indians.  I did not take time to count them, but thought there were about eighteen or twenty of them, I fired four shots in quick succession.  The first two shots I killed two Indians, but the other two I could not tell whether I got my men or not, as I was just in the act of turning my horse when I fired.  They fired a perfect shower of arrows at me.  To run back down the mountain the way I came was a matter of impossibility, as it was both steep and rocky, so I took around the side of the mountain, thinking that I would be able in a few moments’ run to reach the top of the mountain, where I could have a better show to defend myself.

I had to ride all over my horse to avoid the arrows, first on one side, hanging by one foot and one hand, then on the other side.

I had not run more than one hundred yards until I knew there was something wrong with my horse, for he had always before seemed to know when I was in a tight place and seemed eager to carry me out of danger.  I gave him the spurs three or four times but he did not increase his speed in the least, and then I knew well that he had been shot, and it always seemed a miracle to me that I went through all that and did not get shot also.

It is quite useless for me to say I thought my time had come.  On looking ahead some fifty yards I saw a pile of rocks about four or five feet high, which I made a bee line for.  Getting to the rock pile I dismounted and ran between two large rocks where poor old Pinto tried to follow me, but he received two more arrows in his hip and one in his flank.  He fell to the ground, and after falling raised his head, and looking toward me, whinnied.

The poor faithful old fellow lay there and would whinny for me at intervals as long as he lived, which was perhaps half an hour.  The reader can fancy my condition just at this time.  Here I was almost surrounded by hostile Indians and the only friend that I had with me dead.  I did not expect to ever get away from there, for I expected that while a part of the Indians guarded me the balance would go off and rally reinforcements.