One day, after we had been out from the post for some little time, I was hunting on Deer Creek, in company with Mr. McCarthy, about eight miles from the command.  I had been wishing for several days to play a joke on him, and had arranged a plan with Captain Lute North to carry it into execution.  I had informed North at about what time we would be on Deer Creek, and it was agreed that he should appear in the vicinity with some of his Pawnees, who were to throw their blankets around them, and come dashing down upon us, firing and whooping in true Indian style; while he was to either conceal or disguise himself.  This programme was faithfully and completely carried out.  I had been talking about Indians to McCarthy, and he had become considerably excited, when just as we turned a bend of the creek, we saw not half a mile from us about twenty Indians, who instantly started for us on a gallop, firing their guns and yelling at the top of their voices.

“McCarthy, shall we dismount and fight, or run?” said I.

He didn’t wait to reply, but wheeling his horse, started at full speed down the creek, losing his hat and dropping his gun; away he went, never once looking back to see if he was being pursued.  I tried to stop him by yelling at him and saying that it was all right, as the Indians were Pawnees.  Unfortunately he did not hear me, but kept straight on, not stopping his horse until he reached the camp.

[Illustration:  MCCARTHY’S FRIGHT.]

I knew that he would tell General Carr that the Indians had jumped him, and that the General would soon start out with the troops.  So as soon as the Pawnees rode up to me I told them to remain there while I went after my friend.  I rode after him as fast as possible, but he had arrived at the command some time before me and when I got there the General had, as I had suspected he would do, ordered out two companies of cavalry to go in pursuit of the Indians.  I told the General that the Indians were only some Pawnees, who had been out hunting and that they had merely played a joke upon us.  I forgot to inform him that I had put up the trick, but as he was always fond of a good joke himself, he did not get very angry.  I had picked up McCarthy’s hat and gun which I returned to him, and it was some time afterwards before he discovered who was at the bottom of the affair.

When we returned to Fort McPherson we found there Mr. Royal Buck, whose father had been killed with his entire party by Pawnee Killer’s band of Indians on the Beaver Creek.  He had a letter from the commanding officer of the Department requesting that he be furnished with an escort to go in search of the remains of his father and the party.  Two companies of cavalry were sent with him and I accompanied them as guide.  As the old squaw, which we had captured, and of which mention is made in a previous chapter, could not exactly tell us the place on Beaver Creek where the party had been killed, we searched