I finally gave the signal to charge, and we dashed into the little camp with a yell.  Five Indians sprang out of a willow tepee, and greeted us with a volley, and we returned the fire.  I was riding Buckskin Joe, who with a few jumps brought me up to the tepee, followed by my men.  We nearly ran over the Indians who were endeavoring to reach their horses on the opposite side of the creek.  Just as one was jumping the narrow stream a bullet from my old “Lucretia” overtook him.  He never reached the other bank, but dropped dead in the water.  Those of the Indians who were guarding the horses, seeing what was going on at the camp, came rushing to the rescue of their friends.  I now counted thirteen braves, but as we had already disposed of two, we had only eleven to take care of.  The odds were nearly two to one against us.

While the Indian reinforcements were approaching the camp I jumped the creek with Buckskin Joe to meet them, expecting our party would follow me; but as they could not induce their horses to make the leap, I was the only one who got over.  I ordered the sergeant to dismount his men, and leaving one to hold the horses, to come over with the rest and help me drive the Indians off.  Before they could do this, two mounted warriors closed in on me and were shooting at short range.  I returned their fire and had the satisfaction of seeing one of them fall from his horse.  At this moment I felt blood trickling down my forehead, and hastily running my hand through my hair I discovered that I had received a scalp wound.  The Indian, who had shot me, was not more than ten yards away, and when he saw his partner tumble from his saddle, he turned to run.

By this time the soldiers had crossed the creek to assist me, and were blazing away at the other Indians.  Urging Buckskin Joe forward, I was soon alongside of the chap who had wounded me, when raising myself in the stirrups I shot him through the head.

The reports of our guns had been heard by Captain Meinhold, who at once started with his company up the creek to our aid, and when the remaining Indians, whom we were still fighting, saw these reinforcements coming they whirled their horses and fled; as their steeds were quite fresh they made their escape.  However, we killed six out of the thirteen Indians, and captured most of their stolen stock.  Our loss was one man killed, and one man—­myself—­slightly wounded.  One of our horses was killed, and Buckskin Joe was wounded, but I didn’t discover the fact until some time afterwards as he had been shot in the breast and showed no signs of having received a scratch of any kind.  Securing the scalps of the dead Indians and other trophies we returned to the fort.

I made several other scouts during the summer with different officers of the Third Cavalry, one being with Major Alick Moore, a good officer, with whom I was out for thirty days.  Another long one was with Major Curtis, with whom I followed some Indians from the South Platte river to Fort Randall on the Missouri river in Dakota, on which trip the command ran out of rations and for fifteen days subsisted entirely upon the game we killed.