tent to report to him, intending to then lie down and rest for the day at least.  He had just rolled out of bed, but he looked worn and haggard as if he had had a bad night of it.  He asked me what news I had and I said good news, as we had seen no Indians or any fresh sign, but that I was worn out, having been almost constantly in the saddle for twenty-four hours.  I asked him if he had any news and he said he had, and bad news too.  The Indians had attacked a train in Choke Cherry canyon, burned all the wagons, but how many persons they had murdered or how many had escaped he could not tell me, as there were no scouts in camp at the time.

He wished so know if I could spare some men to go and bury the dead and locate the Indians.  I replied that George Jones and John Riley were there, but that like myself, they were very much fatigued.  He said he wanted them for another purpose.  Then I offered two men, good and fresh, Jim Davis and Mike Maloney.  But I had some uneasiness as to Mike.  Not that there was any doubt about his bravery but he was so utterly incautious.  However, I decided to go with them myself, as tired as I was.  So as soon as I could get a bite to eat and a fresh horse saddled, we were off and on the way to Choke Cherry canyon.

Lieut.  Jackson asked me when be could expect to hear from me.  I told him that if I succeeded in locating the Indians in a body I would report to him at once, but if not he might not hear from me until my return.  So we shook hands and he retired to his tent.

I directed Mike to go straight to the canyon and to keep on the east side until he came to the trail leading to Agua Caliente, and then take that trail direct for Sand Point; and when near the point to signal me by barking like a cayote, and that I would answer him by gobbling like a turkey; that he must meet me at Sand Point at three o’clock sharp, and if he was not there at that time I would know that something was wrong.  I also told him to be careful and not run into an ambuscade, but above all not to be taken prisoner.  Then I asked him if he could bark like a cayote.  His answer was:  “Sure, Captain, it’s mesilf that can make a bloody cayote ashamed of himself bairking, and I belave ye’s is afraid for me, but O’ill tell ye now there’s no bloody Apache in all Arizony that’s goin’ to take this Irishman prisoner.  I’m sure they don’t want me schalp anyway, for me hair is too short.”

I told Jim Davis to go to Wild Plum Ridge and then follow the trail to Sand Point, for him to signal me the same manner as Mike and I would answer him in the same manner.