Bannocks and overtake them if he could, but he only went a little way and camped. The cavalry pursued through the deep cañon of the south park of the John Day River. Wagons cross a mountain range gradually working to the highest ridge. Oh, such a time as we did have! On July 1, great difficulty was encountered in getting the wagon train into the deep valley of the South Fork, the hill being five miles in descent and so steep as to cause constant sliding of the wagons. It took from two o’clock p. m. until after ten o’clock at night to worry the train down this hill into the camp. The cavalry was four days ahead of us. On July 2, we proceeded down South Fork about thirty miles to Stewart’s Ranch, on Murderer’s Creek, and saw evidences of a skirmish between volunteers and Indians. Here sister and I went on ahead, and came to where the bodies of two men were buried by our advanced scouts. On the third of July the infantry went into camp in John Day valley, near the mouth of South Fork. The wagon train was replaced by pack-mules that came to us from Canyon City. July 4, General Howard with his staff and sister and I pushed on to the advance and came up with the McGregors, and came on with them to Fox Valley. While we were marching along in the hot sun, some one came running his horse toward us, just as if he was running for his dear life. He said, “Oh, somebody shot at me. They are after me.” General Howard asked him if they were Indians. He said, “I don’t know, but I think they are white men.”
“No wonder; you look just like an Indian, and they take you for such and shoot at you. Take your feathers off your horse.”
This man would tie everything he could find belonging to Indians—feathers, beads, and red rags—on the mane and tail of his horse. He is no other than the man who talked
