From him I learned that they had not seen an Indian for three days, but had seen any amount of sign, every day, which was evidence that there were plenty of Indians in the country.

The following morning when I went for my orders I was much surprised at the Colonel saying:  “Oh, damn it!  I don’t care.  Go any way you please and as far as you please.  The other boys say there is not an Indian in fifty miles of here, and if you find any you will do better than any man I have sent out, so far.”

When I went to order my lunch, and told the negro cook to put up enough to last me until the next night, he looked at me and said:  “Whar you going, boss?” Jim told him I was going out to get some cayote scalps.  I now mounted Mexico—­the horse that Mr. Reed had given me at the City of Mexico—­and started off on my first scouting trip, taking an easterly direction until I had struck the old emigrant road.

After I had left camp the other scouts were talking among themselves, and none of them thought I would ever return.  One of the scouts told Jim that I was the biggest fool that he had ever seen, to start out scouting in a strange region and not ask anything about the country, grass, water, Indians, or anything else.

“Don’t be alarmed about that boy,” said Jim, “he’ll take care of himself in any man’s country.”

I had been taught by Uncle Kit that when I attempted to do a thing to carry it out at all hazards, if it was in my power to do so.

After I had ridden about twelve miles or so, and was just entering the mouth of a little ravine, on looking up the same ravine I saw three Indians who had just hove in sight over the hill.  I dropped back from their view as quick as I could, which only took about two or three jumps of my horse.

The Indians having their backs toward me, I was confident they had not seen me.  They were heading for the emigrant trail, that being what we called the wagon road across the plains in those days.

I rode around the point of a hill and tied my horse in a washout where he would be hid from view, climbed up the top of the hill and saw five warriors, riding direct for the trail.  After watching them for a short time I hurried back to my horse, mounted him and rode as fast as Mexico could conveniently carry me over this sagebrush country—­about a quarter of a mile in an opposite direction to which the Indians were traveling.  Riding up to the head of a little ravine, where I could tie my horse in a place where he would not be discovered by the redskins, I dismounted, tied my horse and crawled up through the sagebrush to the top of the hill, where I could watch the movements of the Indians.

This was a rolling country, low hills covered with a heavy growth of sagebrush, and not a tree of any description to be seen anywhere.

I had discovered my game, but how to capture it was what puzzled me.