Jones hurried down to inform the sergeant of the situation, I tarrying long enough to become positively convinced that the reds might get their camp fixings mixed with ours. So I put spurs to my horse and rode down to camp as quickly as I could. During this time the sergeant was flying around like a chicken with his head cut off to have his company ready to meet the Indians, and he barely had time to get his men all mounted when the reds came in sight, not forty rods away. George and I had ridden our horses very hard all day, consequently took no hand in this engagement, but rode to the top of a little hill close by where we could see the whole affair.
In this fight the Apaches showed their blood by standing their ground better than any Indians I have ever seen in a battle. They did not offer to retreat until the soldiers were right up among them, there being some sixty Indians and one hundred soldiers.
This was beyond doubt the wickedest little battle I had ever witnessed, but it did not last long. In the engagement three soldiers were killed and five wounded, and nine horses killed and nine wounded. There were twenty-seven good Indians left on the battle-field, and none of the Indian horses were captured. Those that the Indians did not drive away took fight and ran after them.
The soldiers followed until after dark, but did not find any more dead Indians. We remained in this camp until the Lieutenant came up with his command. He regretted that he did not come on himself ahead of the command, thinking that had he been there the result would have been quite different.
