Old Times in the Black Hills 
themselves through my excited imagination 
as I felt that terrible bullet plowing its way 
through my vitals will never be told. Then, 
as visions of the whole Sioux tribe dancing 
around my scalpless body vanished, I realized 
the truth. A disturbed sand-hill crane, that 
had alighted there during my detour, had 
screeched almost in my ear, and my stockless 
rifle, which I was carrying at full cock, had 
been discharged, nearly fracturing my ribs by 
the recoil. I felt truly thankful that Califor- 
nia Joe was not present, for if my hair did not 
actually stand on end, I certainly had all the 
sensations of this once experienced never to 
be forgotten feeling. 
With a sigh of relief I went back to “ Cof- 
fee” and the dogs, and after cinching up the 
former until he looked like a wasp, and ar- 
ranging the compress on Kentuck, I struck 
out for French Creek at a trot that hustled 
both the crippled dogs and overloaded “ Cof- 
fee” to keep up with. Upon coming down into 
French Creek valley, about two miles above 
the stockade, another and greater surprise 
awaited me; for there I found encamped a 
party of prospectors, arrived from Fort Fetter- 
87 
