In this train there were two negros, whose names were Joe and Bab.  Joe was driving a team for his grub and Bab was cooking for two families for his grub.  The people of the train fell into the habit of calling me Captain, and every time I would ride along where this Joe or Bab were, they would invariably salute me by lifting their hats or by taking them off entirely and then they would say:  “Marse Capting, de ye see any Injuns?”

One day my scouts came in from the south and reported seeing a band of Indians, about ten or fifteen in number, two miles away and coming direct for the train.  I struck out alone at full speed in that direction to ascertain what kind of Indians they were, there being another man whose business it was to take charge of the train at any time I was away, and in case of an attack or danger of such, it was his business to corral the train and prepare for battle.

I had only gone a half mile when I met the Indians, and they proved to be Arapahoes.  I was personally acquainted with all of them and asked them to go to the train with me, telling them it was just over the ridge.  This they agreed to do, saying:  “We will go to the train and then all will go out and kill some buffalo this evening.”

We rode leisurely along until in sight of the train, and the moment the people saw me riding with the Indians on each side of me, they felt sure that I had been taken prisoner, and all the hustling and bustling around to get those wagons corralled, beat anything I had ever seen, and they were all so badly excited that it was no use to try to hello at them.

They were afraid to shoot at the Indians for fear they might shoot me, or if they did not shoot me, they were afraid that if they should shoot the Indians they would retaliate by shooting me down.

The wagons being corralled, we rode around the entire train.  I left the Indians and rode inside of the corral and told the people that these were peaceable Indians and were all friends of mine, and that I wanted every man, woman and child to come out and shake hands with them.  Quite a number hesitated, believing that I had been taken prisoner by the Indians and had been compelled to do this in order to save my own life, and believing that those Indians wanted to murder the entire train.

But after reasoning with them for a while I succeeded in convincing them that the Indians were peaceable.  Then they all went out and shook hands except the two darkies, who were not to be found any where about the train at that time.  I then told the man whose duty it was to look after the train in my absence, to drive about three miles and camp, describing the place, and that I would go with the Indians and kill some buffalo, so that we might have fresh meat, telling him to have each family cook a little bread extra for the Indians, and that they would furnish meat enough to do to-night and to-morrow, and was off for the buffalo hunt.