There had been no signs of hostiles for sometime and they felt secure. Mitchell and Anderson wTere the only two to carry arms.

As they started to return on that beautiful autumn afternoon, the Indians were observed pouring into the canyon to head them off. Mr. Bentz, who was mounted on a fine black horse, rode ahead with such surprising rapidity and suddenness, that he passed the closing gap of Indians, and escaped unharmed amid a fusilade of bullets and flying arrows.

Captain Mitchell saw that the slower moving ambulance could not hope to escape in this manner, and be ordered the driver to turn sharply up the sloping bank of the canyon, hoping to reach the tableland over its rim. and

then it would be a running fight in the open towards the camp.

The horses had nearly reached the top, when the nigh wheeler balked, and for the moment they seemed at the mercy of the savages. Then a yell from the Indians so frightened the horses that they went flying up over the ridge, and were headed for camp at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour.

The Indians pursued, and the driver was shot from his seat. Anderson seized the reins and held them until Cramer could come forward, then he returned to the use of his rifle. The horses with the heavy ambulance could not keep pace with the light-footed Indian mustangs, and it soon became evident that the Indians would close around them. Captain Mitchell and Anderson Were shooting, but the roughness of the prairie, and the shaking of the ambulance, made the aim uncertain. The Captain finally determined to stop upon an eminence ahead and fight it out, or stand off the Indians until Bentz could return with assistance.