bow and arrows, but they did not attempt to use them. They did not suspect anything wrong until they heard the clatter of our horses' feet within a few yards of them and when they turned to look back we all had our revolvers ready and turned loose to firing and yelling, and for the next half mile we had a lively race. I had thought up to that time that there wasn't a man on the plains or in the Rocky Mountains that could beat me shooting with a pistol while on the run, but I must confess that Lieut. Jackson on his black mare could shoot more Indians in the same length of time than any person I was ever out with, and it seemed that as fast as the Lieutenant would shoot one Indian down his mare would turn and take after the next nearest. The Lieutenant fired six shots and killed five Indians and wounded the sixth one, while riding at full speed, and in this country in places the sage brush is waist high to a man. In this engagement I got four Indians, having to shoot one Indian three times before I got him down, and George Jones killed three. Not one of them escaped. Lieut. Jackson said he could not see why it was that they did not offer to defend themselves, when they had four to one to start with, for the Apaches have always been considered the bravest tribe of Indians in the entire West, and they had been known at different times to fight soldiers man to man. The last Indian I killed was beyond doubt the best horseman I had ever seen among the Indians, for he was first on one side of his horse and then on the other. It seemed as though he could almost turn under the horses belly while on the dead run, and he would swing himself around under his breast, rendering it almost impossible to deal
