Qimpfire Stories of Indian Character 541 



No packs or rations having been brought, at nightfall 

 Captain Wessells built decoy campfires about the Indians' 

 position and marched the command back into the garrison. 



He told me Lieutenant Baxter, with a detachment of ten 

 men, had located, on the slope of a bluff a mile east of the 

 Deadman Ranch, a camp of Indians which he believed 

 represented a large band of hostiles still loose. 



Pointing to a spur of the bluffs, three or four hundred feet 

 high, standing well out into the valley a scant mile east of 

 my ranch, the trooper hurried on in to the garrison for 

 reinforcements, and I spurred away for the bluff, and 

 soon could see a line of dismounted troopers strung along 

 the crest of the ridge. 



As I rode up to the foot of the bluff, skirmish firing began 

 on top of the ridge. 



After running my horse as far up the hill as its precipi- 

 tous nature would permit, I started afoot climbing for the 

 crest, but, finding it inaccessible at that point, started 

 around the face of the bluff to the east to find a practicable 

 line of ascent, when suddenly I was startled to hear the 

 ominous, shrill buzz of rifle balls Just above my head, from 

 the skirmish line on the crest of the ridge — startled, indeed, 

 for I had supposed the Indians to be on the crest of the bluff, 

 farther to the south. 



Dropping behind a tree and looking downhill, I saw a 

 faint curl of smoke rising from a little washout one hundred 

 yards below me, and, crouched beside the smouldering fire 

 in the washout, a lone Indian. 



This warrior's fight and death was characteristic of the 

 magnificent spirit which had inspired the band, from the 

 beginning of the campaign at Fort Reno. 



In mid-afternoon, scouting to the south of the garrison 



