evidently with the design of cutting them off.  Wise told Bentz to ride hard, at the same time handing him one of his revolvers, to defend himself in case of emergency.  Bentz was very feeble and dizzy, so much so, indeed, that he could barely sit in the saddle.

Wise was mounted on a superb horse belonging to Lieutenant Cutler, which he had taken out to exercise, and, seeing that the Indians would head them off, and that Bentz, who was riding an old mule, could not keep up, he gave the powerful brute rein, and shot down the canyon like an arrow.  He passed the intervening Indians in safety, just as three of them dashed out of a pocket in the bluff and cut off poor Bentz.

Wise saw Bentz knocked from his mule, and, knowing it was useless to try to save him, left him to his fate, and thought only of saving his own life.  He rode hard for Captain Mitchell, who was not far distant, but before he could reach him another party of Sioux headed him off, and he turned and rode up the bluffs to the flat lands.  The Indians pursued him, and made every effort to kill or capture him, but his fine horse bore him out of every danger.  Three times he was cut off from the camp, but by taking a wide circuit he managed to ride around the Indians, and at last succeeded in reaching the high road above the camp.  As many settlers lived on this road, the Indians did not venture to follow him along it, and he was soon safely housed in the log-cabin of a frontiersman, and relating his adventures.

Meanwhile Captain Mitchell, having seen the fate of Bentz and escape of Wise, made haste to assemble his party, and, lifting those who were too weak to climb into the wagon, they set off for the camp.  Mitchell and Anderson were the only two of the party who had arms, but they assured the sick men they would defend them to the last.  Anderson took the lines and drove, while Mitchell seated himself in the rear end of the ambulance, with a Henry rifle to keep off the Indians.

They had not gone far before they came upon a large force of warriors drawn across the canyon, to cut off their retreat.  The bluffs were very steep and high on both sides of them, and escape seemed impossible; nevertheless Mitchell ordered Anderson to run his team at the right-hand bluff and try and ascend it.  The spirited animals dashed up the steep bank and drew the wagon nearly half-way up, when one of the wheels balked and nearly overturned the wagon.  A loud yell from the savages, at this moment, so frightened the horses that they sprang forward, and, before they could appreciate it, they were over the bluff on the level prairie, and flying toward the camp at the rate of ten miles an hour.

They now began to hope, but had only gone as far as the first plum grove when they saw the Indians circling around them, and once more getting between them and the post.  Still they hoped that some soldiers might be in