was strangely set, and of a ghastly purplish hue. The trumpeter ran swiftly to the nearest house to get another light, and to call for help, but upon returning found the Captain dead.
Many strange sights have I seen, but none that produced a stranger or more pathetic appeal to my emotions than the funeral of Phil Dwyer; we got together just as good an apology for a coffin as that timberless country would furnish, and then wrapped our dead friend in his regimentals, and all hands were then ready to start for the cemetery.
At the head marched Mr. Hugus, Doctor Williams (the Indian agent), myself, and Lieutenant Hay, of the Twenty-third Infantry, who arrived at the post early in the morning; then came the troop of cavalry, dismounted, and all the civilians living in and around the camp; and lastly every Indian—man, woman, or child—able to walk or toddle, for all of them, young or old, good or bad, loved Phil Dwyer. The soldiers and civilians formed in one line at the head of the grave, and the Apache-Yumas in two long lines at right angles to them, and on each side. The few short, expressive, and tender sentences of the burial service were read, then the bugles sang taps, and three volleys were fired across the hills, the clods rattled down on the breast of the dead, and the ceremony was over.
As soon as General Crook learned of the death of Dwyer, he hurried to Date Creek, now left without any officer of its proper garrison, and informed the Indians that he intended having a talk with them on the morrow, at a place designated by himself. The conspirators thought that their scheme could be carried out without trouble, especially since they saw no signs of suspicion on the part of the whites. General Crook came to the place appointed, without any escort of troops, but carelessly strolling forward were a dozen or more of the packers, who had been engaged in all kinds of mêlées since the days of early California mining. Each of these was armed to the teeth, and every revolver was on the full cock, and every knife ready for instant use. The talk was very agreeable, and not an unpleasant word had been uttered on either side, when all of a sudden the Indian in the centre asked for a little tobacco, and, when it was handed to him, began rolling a cigarette; before the first puff of smoke had rolled away from his lips one of the warriors alongside of him levelled his carbine full at General Crook, and fired. Lieutenant
