Across the river with great tumult and splashing, they were driven, and up one of the arroyos to the north, and because of the many relics of the battle found in this vicinity, that arroyo and the water that flows down therefrom is known today as Indian Creek.

The young brave mourned the loss of his now famous dun horse, and after the battle, he went out on the field and gathered up the pieces and piled them together. Then he went up on the rim of the overhanging rock to mourn, nor would he return to the village to celebrate with the others over their triumph. Night came and still he sat and looked down on his Armageddon.

There came a storm, a roaring mountain storm, the lightning flashed, and there was thunder and a deluge of rain. Two black arms reached down from the overhanging clouds to the field of battle. Then the storm passed and the young brave saw something had taken shape upon the battle field. Then came another storm alike but fiercer than the first, and when it passed he saw the form of a horse. Then came a third storm, more terrible than the others, and when it passed he went down upon the field of battle and there he found his old dun horse, sore of back, and crippled and poor as when he had first found him. And the brave was sad for he knew that it Was his disobedience and impetuosity that had brought about the disaster.