the Indians except two, some of them dying so near the Rangers that they
could put their hands on their boots. All but one of Burleson's men were
wounded--himself shot in the head with an arrow. One man had four
'dogwood switches' [Arrows.] in his body, one of which was in his
bowels. This man told me that every time he raised his gun to fire, the
Indians would stick an arrow in him, but he said he didn't care a cent.
One Indian was lying right up close, and while dying tried to shoot an
arrow, but his strength failed so fast that the arrow only barely left
the bowstring. One of the Rangers in that fight was a curious
fellow--when young he had been captured by Indians, and had lived with
them so long that he had Indian habits. In that fight he kept jumping
around when loading, so as to be a bad target, the same as an Indian
would under the circumstances, and he told Burleson he wished he had his
boots off, so he could get around good"--and here the Colonel paused
quizzically. "Would you call that a good fight?"

The Deacon and I put the seal of our approval on the affair, and the
Colonel rambled ahead.

"In 1858 I was commanding the frontier battalion of State troops on the
whole frontier, and had my camp on the Deer Fork of the Brazos. The
Comanches kept raiding the settlements. They would come down quietly,
working well into the white lines, and then go back a-running--driving
stolen stock and killing and burning. I thought I would give them some
of their own medicine. I concluded to give them a fight. I took two
wagons, one hundred Rangers, and one hundred and thirteen Tahuahuacan
Indians, who were friend-lies. We struck a good Indian trail on a stream
which led up to the Canadian. We followed it till it got hot. I camped
my outfit in such a manner as to conceal my force, and sent out my
scouts, who saw the Indians hunt buffalo through spyglasses. That night