made the attack and were in turn themselves surprised at our numbers.
But the warning was henceforth heeded, and on reaching the crossing
more Indian sign was detected. Several large parties had evidently
crossed the river that morning, and were no doubt at that moment
watching us from the surrounding hills. The cañon of Castle Mountain
Gap was well adapted for an Indian ambush; and as it was only twelve
miles from the ford to its mouth, we halted within a short distance
of the entrance, as if encamping for the night. All the horses under
saddle were picketed fully a quarter mile from the wagon,--easy marks
for poor Lo,--and the remuda was allowed to wander at will, an air of
perfect carelessness prevailing in the camp. From the sign which
we had seen that day, there was little doubt but there were in the
neighborhood of five hundred Indians in the immediate vicinity of
Horsehead Crossing, and we did everything we could to create the
impression that we were tender-feet. But with the falling of darkness
every horse was brought in and we harnessed up and started, leaving
the fire burning to identify our supposed camp. The drovers gave our
darky cook instructions, in case of an attack while passing through
the Gap, never to halt his team, but push ahead for the plain. About
one third of us took the immediate lead of the wagon, the remuda
following closely, and the remainder of the men bringing up the rear.
The moon was on the wane and would not rise until nearly midnight,
and for the first few miles, or until we entered the cañon, there was
scarce a sound to disturb the stillness of the night. The sandy road
even muffled the noise of the wagon and the tramping of horses; but
once we entered that rocky cañon, the rattling of our commissary
seemed to summon every Comanche and his ally to come and rob us. There
was never a halt, the reverberations of our caravan seeming to reëcho
through the Gap, resounding forward and back, until our progress
must have been audible at Horsehead Crossing. But the expected never