Cheyenne was at length left behind, and, with the object of securing companionship in my journey across Wyoming and Utah, I made the acquaintance of two herders—rough men and plain of speech, but apparently reliable and trustworthy. During the few days spent with these pioneers of the Plains, I learned but little of their past lives, yet I was thoroughly satisfied from the first that they would prove invaluable guides in my otherwise lonely ride over the Rockies.

My new companions, Israel Gordon and a Mexican with unpronounceable name, were on their way to Salt Lake City with a few mustangs and Indian ponies, and we at once arranged to journey together as far as our respective routes carried us.

On our first day out from Cheyenne we were much favored, having a clear sky and a southwest wind, which tempered pleasantly the usual chilliness of the season. A ride of thirty-three miles on an up-hill road brought us to Sherman, the highest point touched in the Rocky Mountains by the Union Pacific Railway. Here we halted for the night, had supper, and slept under our blankets in the open air.

After a light breakfast the following morning, November first, we continued our journey along the line of the Union Pacific. Still favored with fine weather and our mustangs being in excellent condition, good progress was noted in the march westward. I had now become quite well acquainted with my new-made friends, and, as our ponies shook the dust of many miles from their feet, we talked of the strange region through which we were passing, and of the routes which led to objective points beyond the mountains. During these conversations I learned that Gordon was born in Vermont, and lived in that State until the close of the Civil War, when he emigrated to Nebraska, and later to Wyoming, where for several years he led a wandering life among the hunters and cow-boys of the Far West. My other companion told me that he began life in New Mexico, and at the age of twenty-one drifted into Colorado, from which Territory he migrated to Cheyenne, in 1867. Both men were robust, strong of limb, and thoroughly accustomed to the habits and practices of the mixed population of the Plains.

As the reader may have observed, I have undertaken from the outset in this chapter to give some idea of the life and habits of my fellow-travelers, for, as will be discovered on another page, they were destined to share with me the most trying ordeal of my journey from Ocean to Ocean.

On reaching a point about a mile east of Skull Rocks, on the Laramie Plains, we were surprised to find ourselves confronted by a band of Indians—thirteen in number. This caused no uneasiness at first, as Indians are often seen on these Plains. We soon discovered, however, that they were on no friendly errand, and, upon a nearer approach, the herders pronounced them a raiding party of Arrapahoes. They were evidently in pursuit of plunder, were decked in war-paint, and as soon as we came in range of their rifles sounded the war-whoop and bore down upon us, in a manner that betokened anything but a peaceful visit, and left no doubt in our minds as to the motive of their attack.

The Arrapahoes were at this time the friends and allies of the Sioux, and the chief objects of their raid were doubtless revenge for white men and horses for their warriors, who were then rendezvoused in the Black Hills.

Fully convinced that we were in the presence of an enemy determined to kill or capture our little party, no attempt was made to parley. The ponies were hurriedly drawn together so as to form a barrier against the assaults of the Indians, who were now in short range and gradually closing in upon us. As they galloped around us, the Indians formed a circle and kept up an incessant fire, to which we replied over the backs of our ponies, but with little effect, as from their mode of attack they were a constantly shifting target and difficult to reach, even with the best weapons in use. My own equipment consisted of a carbine, such as I had used in the cavalry service during the Civil War, and a 22-calibre Colt's revolver. Gordon and the Mexican were each provided with a Winchester rifle and navy revolver, while nearly all the Arrapahoes were armed with Winchesters and revolvers.

But few moments were required to settle the unequal contest. Four of our horses fell in rapid succession, including my own mustang; in the meantime we brought down one Indian and three ponies. The Indian was instantly killed by a shot from the Mexican.

On seeing one of their number fall, the Arrapahoes rushed upon us with deafening yells, and with such force as to render resistance useless. Our arms were taken from us, our horses quickly seized, and, in much less time than it takes to tell it, we were mounted and riding at a rapid pace to the northward, under a guard of six well-armed Indians, who were carefully instructed as to their duties by their chief, Lone Wolf. The remainder of the band were more or less occupied in scouring the country for horses and other plunder, wanted for their encampment in the Black Hills.

We rode at a trot or gallop until about ten o'clock at night, when a halt was ordered by the chief, and all dismounted; a fire was built and some antelope meat, secured during the day, was partially roasted and distributed among the Indians and their captives. We were for some time squatted around a big fire—our captors engaged in earnest conversation. Gordon understood enough of their language to interpret that the discussion related to their prisoners—that the friends of the Indian killed at Skull Rocks, and who were in the majority, were in favor of putting all of their prisoners to death for having shot one of their number. Lone Wolf, however, interposed, saying it would be enough to take the life of him who had killed their brother. Supper over, four Arrapahoes approached us and seized the herder who had fired the fatal shot. They led him to a stake which had been driven in the ground about fifty yards from the bivouac; to this stake he was firmly bound by lariat ropes. All of the Indians then began dancing around and torturing their victim in the most brutal manner conceivable. Arrow-heads were heated in the fire and held against his naked person. Three or four of the Indians made a target of their captive, and amused themselves by hurling at him their sharp-pointed knives, which, penetrating his body, remained imbedded in the flesh, until he was nearly exhausted with pain and loss of blood. These tortures were continued until our unfortunate comrade lost consciousness, when one of the Arrapahoes, more humane than his associates, advanced and ended his sufferings by a pistol-shot in the head.

In the meantime Gordon and I were seated on the ground, bound together, and unable to offer any relief to our suffering companion, who bore his tortures with a greater degree of composure and fortitude than I ever witnessed on the battle-field or within the walls of the dungeon, and, while no stately column or monumental pile marks his resting-place, he deserves to sleep beside the heroic martyrs of the border who have risked life and suffered privation and hardship for the advancement of a higher civilization.

Having disposed of the Mexican, several of the Indians now approached Gordon and myself, and, separating us, seized me roughly by the arms, and, dragging me to the stake, bound me to it and commenced a series of dances, accompanied by much gesticulation and taunting, which they doubtless intended as a sort of introduction to tortures which were to follow. Lone Wolf, who had from the first seemed friendly, but who was at this time some distance from the camp-fire, now rushed to my rescue and dispersed our inhuman captors, who were loath to desist from their devilish work. A few minutes later a brother of the Indian killed at Skull Rocks removed the scalp of the Mexican, and, after he had fastened it to his belt, all began dancing around the fire, singing and shouting until they were thoroughly exhausted, when they squatted upon the ground, apparently regretting that they had not been permitted to put more trophies in their scalp locks.

An object of interest to us at this time was the horses which were tethered by long lariat ropes to stakes which had been driven in the ground at a convenient distance from the encampment. Could we but elude the guard and mount the mustangs we were riding when captured, our chances for escape would be all we could wish. As usual, we were bound together, with two stalwart Indians in charge. The other Indians disposed themselves around the fire and slept. I and my companion slept very little, but pretended to do so. We were always on the alert and seeking opportunities to escape. About two o'clock in the morning our guards were relieved by two others, and all was again quiet around their camp-fire. At the first streak of dawn, the Indians were up and had a scant breakfast of dried buffalo meat and venison, which had been secured from the ranches of frontiersmen during their raid of the previous day; of this they gave us barely enough to satisfy hunger.

As soon as all were ready for the trail, Gordon and I were each given a pony, which we mounted under the close scrutiny of the guard, and the entire party started northward at a brisk trot. No real attempt to escape had thus far been made and the watch became somewhat relaxed, the attention of the Indians being devoted chiefly to foraging. When opportunity seemed favorable for the capture of horses or cattle, a halt was called by the leader, and three or four of the party were detailed for this purpose. These foragers were expected to keep themselves and their prisoners supplied with meat and such other rations as could be found in the straggling cabins of frontiersmen, but, as their raids often proved fruitless, we were, at best, scantily provided for, and many times entirely without food.

We were now skirting the Black Hills, and I had discovered by this time that our captors were making their way to the Arrapahoe rendezvous, about one hundred miles from Deadwood.

At the end of the second day the routine of the previous night was repeated: the Indians built a fire, cooked and ate some antelope meat, which had been brought in by the foragers during the afternoon, and then lay down around the fire for the night, their two prisoners being again bound together, with a guard on each side. Notwithstanding these precautions, however, on the part of the Arrapahoes, I was quietly on the alert, and, although feigning sleep, was wide awake and prepared to take advantage of any circumstance which might prove favorable to an escape. I passed the fingers of my right hand over the cord that bound the left to my fellow-prisoner and felt sure that with patience and persistence the knot could be untied and our liberty regained.

While the guards dozed and slept, as on the previous night, our eyes steadily sought the arms and ponies. We were quite certain that any attempt to escape, if detected and defeated, would result in immediate torture and death; but were, nevertheless, firmly determined to make the effort, let the consequences be what they might, for by this time we were thoroughly convinced that, if taken to their encampment in the Black Hills, the Indians would be most likely to detain us as hostages for a long period, and in the end possibly, should the inclination seize them, subject us to brutalities that only savages can devise. With such reflections and but indifferent opportunity to put our plans for escape to the test, we passed our second night in captivity.

At dawn of the third day, November second, after the usual breakfast of antelope, Lone Wolf called his band together and, mounting, continued his march northward, halting occasionally for rest and refreshment. About eight in the evening all dismounted and bivouacked for the night. The weather was now extremely cold in this high altitude, and was keenly felt by the Arrapahoes and their white captives.

Shivering with cold and without blankets, Gordon and I, still bound together at the wrists, lay down to sleep with our captors around a smouldering fire. The Indians sought sleep—their prisoners thought only of possibilities for escape.

With the experience I had gained in Southern prisons during the Civil War and the herder's thorough knowledge of the Plains, I felt confident that we could make our escape if we were constantly on the alert for the opportune moment. During the early hours of the night we had each fixed our eyes upon a pony. These animals were grazing near the camp-fire, with their saddles on, ready for immediate use if required. Under the pretence of being asleep we began snoring loudly, and the guards, feeling at ease concerning their prisoners, slept at intervals, although restless until midnight, when we found them sleeping soundly.

I now worked at the cord which bound me to my white companion and ascertained that I could untie it. While making the attempt one of the Indians moved in his sleep and I ceased my efforts for the moment, and all was quiet again. The opportunity arrived at length, the knot was loosened, and the noose slipped over our hands, which gave us liberty. We quickly took possession of two revolvers, but the guards, being awakened by our movements, were about getting on their feet, when we dealt them stunning blows with the butt of the revolvers, forced them to the ground, and gained needed time for our escape. Each rushed for a pony, leaped into the saddle, and, before Lone Wolf and his band had shaken off their slumber, we were urging our mustangs to their utmost speed southward.

But a moment elapsed before all of the Indians were mounted and in pursuit of their escaping captives; but this had the effect only of spurring us to still greater speed. Finding several of our pursuers in short range I turned in my saddle and sent a bullet among them; another and another followed. One Indian fell from his horse, but the darkness prevented our seeing if the other shots had told. The Arrapahoes returned the fire, but luckily without any worse result than increasing the pace of our flying ponies.

Away we tore over hill-top and through canyon until but three or four Indians could be seen in pursuit, when Gordon, saying it would be much better for both to take separate routes, at once dashed off through a ravine to the right. One Indian considerably in advance of his companions was at this time closing upon me, but I sent a bullet into his horse, which put a temporary stop to pursuit and would have enabled me to distance my pursuers in the saddle had not my own horse fallen an instant later through a well-directed shot from the Indian I had just dismounted.

I now dropped into a gulch, remaining hidden until morning. With the coming light I found the coast clear, and, emerging from my place of concealment, set out in a southwesterly direction, which brought me to a cattle ranche late in the afternoon, grateful, indeed, for liberty regained and for the freedom which enabled me to continue my journey toward the shores of the Pacific. After listening to my story the generous ranchmen whom I here met supplied me with food and a fresh mustang. Again facing westward I pursued my course over the Rockies, striking the Old Government Trail near Fort Steele at the end of three days.