But two of our party were injured—­and they slightly—­by arrows.  Upon reaching camp their wounds were carefully dressed; after which we partook of a slight lunch, and were ready to start for our camp on the banks of the Nucces, when Don Ignacio came to me, saying, that, as his presence was really very necessary in camp, with my permission, he would take his men—­leaving enough behind to assist in driving the stock—­and hurry on.

This would not inconvenience us, and enable him to arrive in camp several hours earlier than ourselves.

Jerry at once acquiesced in the arrangement, saying that three men, besides ourselves, would be all we should require.

Don Ignacio detailed that number to remain with us; and, with the balance of the party, left us.

We made very fair progress during the night; and, when morning dawned, were a long distance on our road.

An hour or two after daylight, old Jerry’s keen eye detected, upon an elevation in the distance, a party of three Comanches.  We were in hope that they would not discover us at first; but it soon became evident that they had seen us, for one of their number turned and rode towards us, waving a blanket in the air.  This, Jerry said, was indicative of a desire for a parley.

After a short conference together, Jerry decided it was better for us to ride out and meet the party, rather than permit them to join us.

We accordingly prepared for the expedition, giving the Mexicans instructions to proceed quietly with the stock.

As we approached the Indians, their leader, an old man apparantly about sixty years of age, with a singularly cunning and wicked looking countenance, came towards us and extended his hand for a shake; while, with much solemnity, he announced himself as Cuchillo, a Comanche chief, and a great friend of the whites.

While Jerry was conversing with the old fellow in Spanish, I made myself familiar with the general appearance of the party.  They were dressed each with a buffalo rug thrown over his left shoulder in such a manner as to allow it to sweep the ground behind him.  They wore moccasins on their feet, made of buckskin, with a heavy fringe or tassels pendant from the seam behind, long enough to permit it to drag upon the ground.  These, with leggins made from a piece of blanket, which was wrapped about the leg below the knee and fastened with a thong of buckskin, heavily fringed, and the breechcloth, completed the dress.

Each was painted in a most hideous manner, in ochre and vermilion mixed with a whitish clay.

Cuchillo shortly produced a well-worn greasy paper from a small bag he wore around his neck, which he handed me, making a sign that I was to read it.

It was as follows:—­

“The Bearer, Cuchillo, is a Comanche Chief, who says he is a friend of the White’s.  My advice is not to Trust him, or any other sneakin’ varmint like him.  Bill Pope.”