Following down the stream a mile or two, the colonel searches for a good spot for a camping-ground.  As we are on the move, all mounted, well armed and in military array, about thirty Indians showed themselves.  Moving cautiously at first, they gradually became emboldened and ran along our lines asking sundry questions.  But we returned no answers.  Having selected the spot for camping-ground, we lay out our camp in the form of a triangle.  On the one side is a bluff from six to ten feet high, on the opposite side is a lake called Beaver Lake, about five hundred yards wide.  Here, upon the rich grass which borders the lake, we tether our animals, each one having the range of a rope about thirty feet long.  Here we considered them safe, as the Indians would hardly attempt to attack them.  It was early in the month of January, 1859.

The third side of our triangle was a dry swamp, covered with a dense growth of willow bushes.  By order of the colonel, these bushes were cut down for a distance of sixty or eighty yards, so that no foe could approach unseen.  By four o’clock in the afternoon, the labor of establishing our camp was completed.  At some distance from us there was a large and constantly increasing band of Indians, curiously watching our proceedings.  They were all well armed with their native weapons of lances, bows and arrows.

As I was talking in one part of the camp with Joe Walker, Colonel Hoffman approached us and said,

“I want one of you to go and have a talk with the Indians.”

“Very well sir,” I replied, and turning to Joe, added, “will you go, or shall I?”

“You had better go, I guess,” Joe replied.

I at once set out towards the Indians, and when I arrived within speaking distance, hailed them in Spanish, saying that I wished to see their chief and to have a talk.  I had left my rifle in the camp, but still had my revolvers, and my knife.  A young fellow, tall, of splendid proportions, and one of the fiercest looking Indians I ever saw, stepped out towards me, with his bows and arrows.  He was entirely naked except his breach clout and a small plaid shawl thrown over his shoulders.  The ends were fastened down by a piece of black tape.  On this tape was strung a pair of common shears, apparently as an ornament.

His color was like a new piece of copper, clear, brilliant and exceedingly beautiful, like one of the most majestic statues in shining bronze.  “How do you do?” said he, in Spanish, as he approached me and held out his hand.  I took his hand, returning the salutation in the same language.

“Why do you come here?” he then promptly said.  “This is our country.  We have nothing to give you, for yourselves or your horses.”

I gave him some tobacco in token of good will, and then replied:  “We have come to look at the country.  We do not wish you to give us anything.  If you are friendly, we shall give you presents.  If you attack us, we shall kill you.”  I then added:  “Some of the Indians of this country massacred a party only a year ago.  We shall have no more killed by them.  We shall build a fort here, to protect our emigrants.”