“I think the scouts are mistaken, General,” I said.  “The Beaver has more water near its head than it has below.  At the place where we will strike the stream we will find immense beaver dams, big and strong enough to cross your whole command if you wish.”

“Well, go ahead,” he said.  “I leave it to you.  But, remember, I don’t want a dry camp.”

“No danger of that,” I returned and rode on.  As I predicted, we found water seven or eight miles further on.  Hidden in the hills was a beautiful little tributary of the Beaver.  We had no trouble in selecting a fine camp with good spring water and excellent grass.  Learning that the stream, which was but eight miles long, was without a name, the general took out his map, and, locating it, christened it Cody’s Creek, which name it still bears.

Early the next morning we pulled out for the Beaver.  As we were approaching the stream I rode on ahead of the advance guard in order to find a crossing.  Just as I turned a bend of the creek “Bang!” went a shot, and down went my horse, accompanied by myself.

I disentangled myself and jumped clear of the carcass, turning my guns loose at two Indians whom I discovered in the direction from which the shot had come.  In the suddenness of it all I missed my aim.  The Indians fired two or three more shots, and I returned the compliment by wounding one of their horses.

On the other side of the creek I saw a few lodges moving rapidly away, and also mounted warriors.  They also saw me and began blazing away with their guns.  The Indians who had killed my horse were retreating across the creek, using a beaver dam for a bridge.  I accelerated their pace by sending a few shots after them and also fired at the warriors across the stream.  I was undecided as to whether it would be best to run back to the command on foot or to retain my position.  The troops, I knew, would come up in a few minutes.  The sound of the firing would hasten their arrival.

The Indians soon saw that I was alone.  They turned and charged down the hill, and were about to cross the creek and corral me when the advance guard of the command appeared over the ridge and dashed forward to my rescue.  Then the redskins whirled and made off.

When General Carr arrived he ordered Company I to pursue the band.  I accompanied Lieutenant Brady, who commanded the company.  For several hours we had a running fight with the Indians, capturing several of their horses and most of their lodges.  At night we returned to the command, which by this time had crossed the dam.

For several days we scouted along the river.  We had two or three lively skirmishes, but at last our supplies began to run low, and the general ordered us to return to Fort Wallace, which we reached three days afterward.

While the regiment remained here, waiting for orders, I spent most of my time hunting buffaloes.  One day while I was out with a small party, fifty Indians jumped us, and we had a terrific battle for an hour.  We finally managed to drive them off, with four of their warriors killed.  With me were a number of excellent marksmen, and they did fine work, sending bullets thick and fast where they would do the most execution.