Though I was not a hundred yards behind the object of my pursuit when the second Indian mounted I was afraid to shoot.  It was not yet quite daylight.  I feared to fire lest I hit my beloved pony.  For two miles I followed through the sandhills before I dared to use my rifle.

The Indian riding at the rear had a revolver with which he kept banging away, but I paid little attention to him.  I knew a man shooting behind with a pistol was likely to hit nothing but air.  At last I took a steady aim while old Joe was running smoothly.  The bullet not only hit the rear man, but passed through him and killed the man in front.

They both fell.  I took another shot to make sure they were not playing ’possum.  As they fell, Powder Face stopped and looked around, to learn what it was all about.  I called to him, and he came up to me.

Both Indians were wearing beautiful war-bonnets, of which I took possession, as well as of their fancy trappings.  Then, taking Powder Face by the rope, I led him back to the Springs to see how the lieutenant had made out.

The herd of horses was held and surrounded by a few soldiers.  The rest were still popping at the Indians.  But most of the redskins were either hidden among the marshes, or had got clear away to the surrounding hills.

I found the lieutenant, and told him I thought we had accomplished all that was possible.  The orderly sounded the recall.  I have never seen a muddier set of boys than those who came out of the marsh and began rummaging around the Indian camp.  We soon discovered two or three hundred pounds of dried meat—­buffalo, deer, and antelope, also a little coffee and sugar and an old kettle and tin cups which the Indians had used.

All the men by this time had all the water they wanted.  Each was chewing a piece of dried meat.  Pickets were posted to prevent a surprise.  Soon coffee was ready.  In a short time everybody was filled up, and I told Thomas we had better be getting out of there.

Many of the men began saddling the stolen horses, so as to rest their own.  The lieutenant was eager to remain and rest until the reenforcements that General Emory had promised should arrive.

“Your orders were to follow me, weren’t they?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, then, keep on following me, and you’ll soon see the reason for getting out of here.”

“All right,” he agreed.  “I’ve heard the general say that in a tight place your directions should always be followed.”

With most of the men driving the captured horses we started for Fort McPherson.  I didn’t take the trail that we had followed in.  I knew of a shorter route, and besides, I didn’t want to meet the support that was coming.  I knew the officer in command, and was sure that if he came up he would take all the glory of the capture away from Lieutenant Thomas.  Naturally I wanted all the credit for Thomas and myself as we were entitled to.