I gathered some limbs and chunks and started a fire, while Johnnie pulled Mr. Hughes’ moccasins off and bathed his feet and legs with cold water.  They were swollen almost to twice their usual size.

The fire being started, Johnnie proposed that we lie down and take a nap and a rest before starting out to hunt for meat, saying it was impossible for him to stand on his feet any longer.  “My legs,” said he, “are swollen clear to my body.”  I was too hungry to sleep, so I proposed that Johnnie stay and care for Mr. Hughes and I would take my gun and go out and kill some game, which was plentiful in this part of the country.  I had not gone more than a quarter of a mile when I looked up the ridge and saw a small deer coming down almost in the direction of where I stood, and never before in my life had I cast my eyes on a living animal that pleased me so much as did that one I waited until he was in gunshot and fired.  It ran about one hundred yards in the direction of camp and fell dead I dressed it, cut off its head and carried it to camp, and it was all I could do to get along with it in my half-famished condition.

I found Hughes and West both sound asleep by the fire It was not long before I had some of the venison cooked, and I had it fashionably rare, at that.  After I had wakened my companions and we had broiled and eaten venison for a time, Johnnie and I rolled some logs together and gathered pine knots and made a good fire.  Then we broiled more venison and ate again, until we got sleepy and fell over by the side of the fire, lost to ourselves and Indians.  During the night we all woke up again, cooked and ate as long as we could keep our eyes open, and by sun-up next morning there was not enough of that little deer left to feed a cat.

We found ourselves very sore and stiff from the effects of our run, but Mr. Hughes thought we were about one hundred miles nearer Taos than when we started, as we had been running most of the time in that direction, and this was some consolation.

We remained here and rested two days, and as game was plentiful we did not have to go far from the camp to get all the meat we wanted.

On the morning of the third day we started for Taos, which was about two hundred miles away, but all being so badly worn out and Mr. Hughes having such severe wounds, we had to travel slowly, it taking us about two weeks to make the trip.  But we had no more trouble with the Indians.

At Taos we met Uncle Kit Carson, who had been waiting our arrival for two weeks.  After resting up for a few days, Uncle Kit, Johnnie West and myself started for North Park to pack out the furs.  Mr. Hughes stayed at Taos, as he was too badly wounded to accompany us on the trip.

On our arrival at North Park we found everything just as we had left it, except that the traps, which we had not cached with the furs, had been stolen.