While they were thus engaged, one of the Mexicans called Jerry's
attention to a solitary Indian who was approaching our wagons from the
rear. Jerry immediately pronounced him to be the Arapahoe, whom we had
seen with the party of Missourians.

He soon came up with us, and brought the intelligence that his party was
only a short distance behind and would soon be in to help us.

This was indeed good news; but, before they could possibly reach us, the
Comanches, who had evidently made up their minds to once more attack,
began their old plan of riding around us in a circle, discharging their
arrows with such good effect that one of the Mexicans was shot in the
thigh.

Jerry, and the Indian guide, both advised us to reserve our fire until
the enemy should come within range of our revolvers; but their arrows
came so thick and fast we decided to give them one more volley from our
rifles; this we did, having the good fortune to see two more of the party
suddenly tumble from their horses' backs. This put an end for the time
being to their attack, for they soon disappeared over the bluff.

"We was too much for 'em that time, old pard," said Jerry, familiarly
slapping the Arapahoe upon his naked shoulder. Then, turning to me,--

"I was s'prised, though' to see how them youngsters stood up ter the
rack. Boys as a gineral thing hain't got no bizness on the plains, no
how; but these are a-goin' to larn Injin fightin', sartin."

"Umph! putty muche boy no good," responded the Arapahoe, in deep guttural