I was sent down from Camp Cottonwood (now Fort McPherson), with thirty men, to Gilman’s Ranch, fifteen miles east of Cottonwood on the Platte, where I was to remain, guard the ranch, and furnish guards to Ben Holliday’s overland stage-coaches.  In those days, Gilman’s was an important place, and in earlier times had been a great trading point for the Sioux.  Two or three trails led from the Republican to this place and every winter the Sioux had come in with their ponies loaded down with buffalo, beaver, elk, and deer skins, which they exchanged with the traders at Gilman’s.  War had, however, put a stop to these peaceful pursuits; still the Sioux could not give up the habit of travelling these favourite trails.  The ponies often came in from the Republican, not now laden with furs and robes, but each bearing a Sioux warrior.  The overland coaches offered a great temptation to the cupidity of the Sioux, and they were not slow to avail themselves of any opportunity to attack them.  The coaches carried the mails and much treasure, and if the savages could now and then succeed in capturing one, they got money, jewels, scalps, horses, and not infrequently white women, as a reward for their enterprise.

Troops were stationed in small squads at every station, about ten miles apart, and they rode from station to station on the top of all coaches, holding their guns ever ready for action.  It was not pleasant, this sitting perched up on top of a coach, riding through dark ravines and tall grass, in which savages were ever lurking.  Generally the first fire from the Indians killed one or two horses, and tumbled a soldier or two off the top of the coach.  This setting one’s self as a sort of a target was a disagreeable and dangerous duty, but the soldiers performed it without murmuring.  My squad had to ride up to Cottonwood, and down to the station below, where they waited for the next coach going the other way, and returned by it to their post at Gilman’s.  All the other stations were guarded in like manner; so it happened that every coach carried some soldiers.

One evening my pony was missing, and thinking he had strayed off but a short distance, I buckled on my revolvers and went out to look for him.  I had not intended to go far, but not finding him, I walked on, and on, until I found myself some four miles from the ranch.  Alarmed at my indiscretion, for I knew the country was full of Indians, I hastily set out to return, and as it was now growing dark, I determined to go up a ravine that led to the post by a nearer route than the trail.  I had got nearly to the end of the ravine, where the stage-road crossed it, and was about to turn into the road when, on looking up the bank, I saw on the crest of the slope some dark objects.  At first I thought they were ponies, for they were moving on all fours, and directly toward the road.  I ran up the bank, and had not gone more than ten yards, when I heard