“Now, Cody, we’ll give Bache a lively little ride, and shake him up a little.”

The new arrival was given a back seat in the ambulance when he got off the train, and we headed for the camp.

Presently Major Brown took the reins from his driver and at once began whipping the mules.  When he had got them into a lively gallop he pulled out his revolver and fired several shots.  The road was terribly rough and the night was intensely dark.  We could not see where we were going, and it was a wonderful piece of luck that the wagon did not tip over and break our necks.

Finally Bache asked, good-humoredly: 

“Is this the way you break in all your new lieutenants, Major?”

“Oh, no,” returned the major.  “But this is the way we often ride in this country.  Keep your seat, Mr. Bache, and we’ll take you through on time,” he quoted, from Hank Monk’s famous admonition to Horace Greeley.

We were now rattling down a steep hill at full speed.  Just as we reached the bottom, the front wheels struck a deep ditch over which the mules had jumped.  We were all brought up standing, and Bache plunged forward headlong to the front of the vehicle.

“Take the back seat, lieutenant,” said Major Brown sternly.

Bache replied that he had been trying to do so, keeping his nerve and his temper.  We soon got the wagon out of the ditch and resumed our drive.  We swung into camp under full headway, and created considerable amusement.  Everyone recognized the ambulance, and knew that Major Brown and I were out for a lark, so little was said about the exploit.

Next morning at an early hour the command started out on another Indian hunt.  General Carr, who had a pretty good idea where he would be likely to find them, directed me to guide him by the nearest route to Elephant Fork, on Beaver Creek.

When we arrived at the South Fork of the Beaver, after two days’ march, we discovered a fresh Indian trail.  We had followed it hurriedly for eight miles when we discovered, on a bluff ahead, a large number of Indians.

General Carr ordered Lieutenant Pepoon’s scouts and Company M to the front.  Company M was commanded by Lieutenant Schinosky, a reckless dare-devil born in France, who was eager for a brush with the Indians.

In his anxiety to get into the fight he pushed his company nearly a mile in advance of the main command, when he was jumped by some four hundred Indians.  Until our main force could come to his support he had as lively a little fight as any one could have asked for.

As the battle proceeded, the Indians continued to increase in numbers.  At last it became apparent that we were fighting eight hundred or a thousand of them.  The engagement was general.  There were killed and wounded on both sides.  The Indians were obviously fighting to give their families and village a chance to get away.  We had surprised them with a larger force than they knew was in that part of the country.  The battle continued steadily until dark.  We drove them before us, but they fought stubbornly.  At night they annoyed us by firing down into our camp from the encircling hills.  Several times it was necessary to order out the command to dislodge them and to drive them back where they could do no damage.