Pulling on for the mountains, the second day we saw the ruins of two wagons that had been burned, but could get no trace of the teamsters.  The supposition prevailed that they were taken prisoners by the Apaches.  The Lieutenant established his headquarters fifty miles from where he had his quarters when we were out before, and now active work commenced, for there was plenty of it to be done.

We had only been there a few days when two of my scouts came in one evening and reported having seen about twenty Indians ten miles from camp and traveling west.  The scouts all being in, George Jones and I and four other scouts and one company of cavalry started in pursuit.  We had no trouble in striking their trail, and there being a good starlight that night and the country somewhat sandy, we were able to track them easily.  We had not followed the trail more than two miles when we passed over a ridge, and I looked down the valley ahead of us and could see the glimmer of their fire.  Here the soldiers stopped, and I and my scouts went on in the direction of the fires, which we supposed to be about half a mile away but which proved to be nearer two miles.  When we were near the camp we dismounted and crawled up.  We located the horses, which were mostly standing still at the time and two or three hundred yards from camp.  I “telegraphed” the soldiers to come at once.

Taking the balance of the scouts we rode slowly and carefully around, getting immediately between the Indian camp and their horses, I telling George Jones that as soon as the soldiers started to make their charge to follow me with the horses.  But this time the Indians were awake before the soldiers were on them and opened fire on them, killing three horses and wounding two the first round, but only one soldier was wounded, and the sergeant in charge told me afterwards that he got eighteen Apaches out of the crowd, and we got twenty-seven horses.  We got back to headquarters about noon the next day and learned that Lieut.  Jackson had gone in a different direction after another band of Apaches, which he overhauled and got twelve scalps from their number.

Now we started for a trip on the east side of Black canyon, six scouts and one company of cavalry, with twenty-two pack animals, calculating to be gone about ten days.  On the fifth day of our trip George Jones, myself and two other scouts were riding leisurely along about one mile in advance of the command when just as we raised to the top of a little rocky ridge we came face to face with a band of Indians, making a surprise to both parties.  I could not tell which party fired first, but we gave them one round and seeing that there were too many of them for us, we wheeled and started back down the hill.  As we did so George sang out:  “My horse is shot,” and just at that time the horse fell.  George threw himself clear of the horse and when he struck the ground he lit running, and at his best licks, too.  The rest of us dropped behind George