Descending the mountain we struck across the valley and at or near the creek we found the trail of the command.  It was easy to distinguish the trail as our men rode shod horses while the Indian ponies were bare-footed.  Picking up the trail we rode as fast as the condition of our tired horses would permit.  About four miles from where we struck the trail we found the carcass of one of our pack mules.  We at first thought there had been a skirmish and that the mule had been killed.  An examination, however, showed us that the mule had fallen over an embankment and broken his neck.  Following a well beaten trail we did not discover that the command had left it until we had gone some two or three miles past the carcass of the dead mule.  We therefore began to retrace our steps.  It should be understood that the course taken by the command was due east, at right angles to that which they should have taken in following me in the morning.  Returning, we carefully examined each side of the trail in order to discover where it had been left.  We finally came back to the carcass of the dead mule.  We knew they had been there, but what had become of them?  Eugene suggested that they had “had an extra big scare and had taken to wing.”

While we were looking for the trail six of the men from whom we had separated in the morning rode up.  They were as much bewildered as I. In fact, I could not account for the actions of the command except that there was rank, craven cowardice somewhere, and the language I used was freely punctuated with adjectives not fit for print.  After a long search we discovered where they had left the trail.  They had followed a shell rock ridge for a quarter of a mile, probably, as some of the men suggested, to hide their trail for fear the Indians would follow them.  The course was now due north.  This they kept until reaching the summit, when they again turned west.  We followed on as fast as the jaded condition of our horses would permit, until I discovered pony tracks following behind.  Keeping a sharp lookout, however, we continued on until we came to where one of the Indians had dismounted, the imprint of his moccasin being clearly outlined in the dust.  This presented a new difficulty, and we now understood why they had not picked us off in the morning.  They were entrenched and were waiting to be attacked, but seeing the main force turn tail, the hunted had turned hunters.

To follow the trail further appeared madness, and we turned down the mountain, keeping in the thick cover.  I concluded the command would simply circle the camp and return to the Stewart ranch that night.  Accordingly we bent our course so as to strike the head of the valley, which we reached at sundown, but nowhere could we discover the presence of man or beast.  We waited until dark and then led our horses up through the willows lining the banks of the creek, and finding an open space picketed our horses, and leaving a guard of two men, laid down to sleep.  I told the boy Eugene to wake me up and I would stand guard, but he failed to do so, saying he was not as tired as I and stood both guards.