The chief walked up close to the brink of the ravine, and almost within arm’s-length of the Captain, and stood gazing on the ground.  Mitchell now saw the chief was blind of an eye and wore a spotted head-dress; and he knew by these marks he was none other than the celebrated Sioux warrior, Spotted Tail.  On making this discovery the Captain levelled both his revolvers at the chief’s breast, and was fully determined to fire.  He believed that the loss of five captains would be a small matter, if by their death they could secure the destruction of the great leader of the Sioux.  Just as he was about to pull the triggers a loud shout from the warriors caused Spotted Tail to start forward and run rapidly up the hill.  The ponies were led down the ravine and the warriors scattered in all directions, seeking cover.  One of them ensconced himself in the ravine not more than thirty feet from Mitchell.  Raising his head so that he could see out, the Captain endeavoured to ascertain what caused all the excitement among the Indians.  At first he had thought he was discovered, then that re-enforcements from the fort had arrived, and a battle was about to begin; but now he saw Anderson was discovered.  When the Captain had started down the ravine Anderson had followed him, and just emerged from the bushes when the Indians suddenly came up.  He had dropped on the ground, and endeavoured to roll himself back among the sage-brush, when an Indian saw him and gave the alarm.  The warriors, not knowing how many white men might be in the brush, with their usual caution, had immediately sought cover.

A hot fire was opened on Anderson’s position, and at first he did not respond at all.  A warrior, more bold than discreet, ventured to go closer to the bushes, when a small puff of white smoke was seen to rise, a loud report rang out on the air, and the warrior fell, pierced through the heart.  A yell of rage resounded over the hills, and three more Indians ran toward Anderson’s cover.  Three reports followed each other in rapid succession, and the three Indians bit the dust.  There was now a general charge on Anderson, but he fired so fast and true that the Indians fell back, carrying with them two more of their number.

The Captain now felt it his duty to help Anderson, and was about to open fire with his revolvers, when Anderson, who, no doubt, expected as much, yelled three or four times, saying in a sort of a cry, “My arm is broken; keep quiet; can’t work the Spencer any more.”  The brave fellow no doubt intended this as a warning to the Captain not to discover himself by firing, and he reluctantly accepted the admonition and kept quiet.

A rush by some thirty warriors was now made on Anderson, and, notwithstanding his disabled condition, he managed to kill three more Indians before he was taken.  He was overpowered, however, dragged out of the bushes, and scalped in full sight of the Captain.  He fought