Seven of this number of scouts had never seen a wild Indian and were over anxious to have a little sport with the redskins.  The Indians, being in a little ravine, we were able to get within a half a mile of them before they could see us.  After advancing as far as we thought prudent, one of the scouts and myself dismounted and crept through the sagebrush within three hundred yards of them.  Their fire was yet burning and the Indians were lounging around, everything indicating that they had just cooked and eaten their dinner.  I counted them and made out twenty-one, my assistant scout made twenty-three, and instead of being Pah-Utes, as we expected, they were Utes.  The boys all being anxious to try their hand, I decided to make the attack at once.  Returning to where I had left the other scouts, I told them my plan of attack, telling them to bear in mind that one shot well calculated was worth three or four at random.  I also told them as soon as I gave the war-whoop for each of them to make all the noise he could.

Now we all mounted, and by riding up a little ravine we were able to get within fifty rods of them before they could see us.

Before making the charge I told the boys to draw their pistols, and when the pistols were emptied to draw sabres and cut the savages down before they could get to their horses.  We rode slowly and cautiously until almost in sight of the Indians, when I gave the word “Charge!” and all put spurs to their horses, raised the yell, and one minute later we were in their midst, arrows and bullets flying in all directions.  I received an arrow wound in the calf of my right leg, the man immediately on my right got shot through the left or bridle arm, and one of the raw recruits got his horse shot from under him.

He did not wait for orders, but drew his sabre and went to work cutting them down as he came to them.  When we first made the charge some of the Indians made a desperate attempt to get their horses, but the scouts shot and cut them down, not allowing one of them to mount.  The Indians, much to my surprise, fought as long as there was one of them left standing.  The battle lasted about fifteen minutes, and when it was over we counted the dead Indians and found the number to be nineteen, but there were twenty-one horses, so we were confident that two Indians either escaped or fell in the sagebrush where we could not find them.

We gathered up the horses and ropes that belonged to the Indians.  The man that had his horse killed in the battle, caught the best horse in the band, threw the saddle on him and started for camp, considering we had done a good day’s work.  As we rode down the ravine in the direction of the emigrant trail some of the boys looked in that direction and saw the smoke curling up from a camp-fire.

“The command has arrived!” shouted one of the boys.

I proposed that we give the Captain a surprise.  We all dismounted, and each fastened a scalp to the browband of his bridle, and when the Captain saw us coming and saw that each had a scalp, he said:  “Boys, let’s give them three cheers.”  At that the valley rang out with the yells.