make a better target for the savages. I used a few English words, not likely to be understood by the Indian interpreter, such as "disperse" and "segregate." In fact, we kept so close to the savages, and separated from one another, that any general firing must have been nearly as fatal to the Indians as to the whites.
While I admit that I thought that my time had come, and hurriedly thought of wife and children, I noticed nothing but coolness among my companions. General Lane sat upon a log, with his arm bandaged in a sling, the lines about his mouth rigidly compressing his lips, while his eyes flashed fire. He asked brief questions, and gave me sententious answers to what little the Indians said to us. Capt. A. J. Smith, who was prematurely gray-haired, and was afflicted with a nervous snapping of the eyes, leaned upon his cavalry saber, and looked anxiously down upon his well formed line of dragoons in the valley below. His eyes snapped more vigorously than usual, and muttered words escaped from under the old Dragoon's mustache that did not sound like prayers. His squadron looked beautiful, but alas, they could render us no assistance. I sat down on a log close to old Chief Jo, and having a sharp hunting knife under my hunting shirt, kept one hand near its handle, determined that there would be one Indian made "good" about the time the firing commenced.
In a few moments General Lane stood up and commenced to speak slowly but very distinctly. He said: "Owens who has violated the armistice and killed Jim Taylor, is a bad man. He is not one of my soldiers. When I catch him he shall be punished. I promised in good faith to come into your camp, with ten other unarmed men to secure peace. Myself and men are placed in your power; I do not believe that you are such cowardly dogs as to take advantage of our unarmed condition.
