I saw lots of Indians around in
the hills. When I got back, I found Captain Ross had formed my men in
line. 'What time in the morning is it?' I asked. 'Morning, hell!' says
he--'it's one o'clock!' And so it was. Directly I saw an Indian coming
down a hill near by, and then more Indians and more Indians--till it
seemed like they wa'n't ever going to get through coming. We had struck
a bigger outfit than the first one. That first Indian he bantered my men
to come out single-handed and fight him. One after another, he wounded
five of my Indians. I ordered my Indians to engage them, and kind of get
them down in the flat, where I could charge. After some running and
shooting they did this, and I turned the Rangers loose. We drove them.
The last stand they made they killed one of my Indians, wounded a
Ranger, but left seven of their dead in a pile. It was now nearly
nightfall, and I discovered that my horses were broken down after
fighting all day. I found it hard to restrain my men, they had got so
heated up; but I gradually withdrew to where the fight commenced. The
Indian camp was plundered. In it we found painted buffalo-robes with
beads a hand deep around the edges--the finest robes I have ever
seen--and heaps of goods plundered from the Santa Fe traders. On the way
back I noticed a dead chief, and was for a moment astonished to find
pieces of flesh cut out of him; upon looking at a Tahuahuacan warrior I
saw a pair of dead hands tied behind his saddle.
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