at our moving camp on the warnings of a horse. "Injun-bit,"
"Man-afraid-of-his-horses," were some of the terms applied to us,--yet
the practical plainsman knew enough to take warning from his dumb
beast. Fear, no doubt, gives horses an unusual sense of smell, and I
have known them to detect the presence of a bear, on a favorable wind,
at an incredible distance.

The night passed quietly, and early the next morning we rode to
recover the remainder of the cattle. An effort was also made to rescue
the bogged ones. On approaching the river, we found the beeves still
resting quietly on the sand-bar. But we had approached them at an
angle, for directly over head and across the river was a brake
overgrown with thick brush, a splendid cover in which Indians might be
lurking in the hope of ambushing any one who attempted to drive out
the beeves. Two men were left with a single mattock to cut out and
improve the exit, while the rest of us reconnoitered the thickety
motte across the river. Goodnight was leery of the thicket, and
suggested firing a few shots into it. We all had long-range guns, the
distance from bank to bank was over two hundred yards, and a fusillade
of shots was accordingly poured into the motte. To my surprise we were
rewarded by seeing fully twenty Indians skulk out of the upper end of
the cover. Every man raised his sights and gave them a parting volley,
but a mesquite thicket, in which their horses were secreted, soon
sheltered them and they fell back into the hills on the western side
of the river. With the coast thus cleared, half a dozen of us rode
down into the river-bed and drove out the last contingent of about
three hundred cattle. Goodnight informed us that those Indians had
no doubt been watching us for days, and cautioned us never to give a
Comanche an advantage, advice which I never forgot.