“These Indian scares,” said Uncle Lance, “are just about as regular as drouths.  When I first settled here, the Indians hunted up and down this valley every few years, but they never molested anything.  Why, I got well acquainted with several bucks, and used to swap rawhide with them for buckskin.  Game was so abundant then that there was no temptation to kill cattle or steal horses.  But the rascals seem to be getting worse ever since.  The last scare was just ten years ago next month, and kept us all guessing.  The renegades were Kickapoos and came down the Frio from out west.  One Sunday morning they surprised two of Waugh’s vaqueros while the latter were dressing a wild hog which they had killed.  The Mexicans had only one horse and one gun between them.  One of them took the horse and the other took the carbine.  Not daring to follow the one with the gun for fear of ambuscade, the Indians gave chase to the vaquero on horseback, whom they easily captured.  After stripping him of all his clothing, they tied his hands with thongs, and pinned the poor devil to a tree with spear thrusts through the back.

“The other Mexican made his escape in the chaparral, and got back to the ranch.  As it happened, there was only a man or two at Waugh’s place at the time, and no attempt was made to follow the Indians, who, after killing the vaquero, went on west to Altita Creek—­the one which puts into the Nueces from the north, just about twenty miles above the Ganso.  Waugh had a sheep camp on the head of Altito, and there the Kickapoos killed two of his pastors and robbed the camp.  From that creek on westward, their course was marked with murders and horse stealing, but the country was so sparsely settled that little or no resistance could be offered, and the redskins escaped without punishment.  At that time they were armed with bow and arrow and spears, but I have it on good authority that all these western tribes now have firearms.  The very name of Indians scares women and children, and if they should come down this river, we must keep in the open and avoid ambush, as that is an Indian’s forte.”

All the women and children at the outlying ranchitas were brought into headquarters, the men being left to look after the houses and their stock and flocks.  In the interim, Father Norquin and the masons had arrived and the chapel was daily taking shape.  But the rumors of the Indian raid thickened.  Reports came in of shepherds shot with their flocks over near Espontos Lake and along the Leona River, and Las Palomas took on the air of an armed camp.  Though we never ceased to ride the range wherever duty called, we went always in squads of four or five.