The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 82, July 1978 - April, 1979 Page: 46
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Southwestern Historical Quarterly
We crossed the river Pecos, where the Indian affair took place, one
day at noon. We saw the burned grass, a freshly made grave but no other
sign of the occurrence. I rode over the spot. It was in this vicinity that
we had reason to expect our attack. Two days before we had met a train
and had heard that fifty [I]ndians were near us. It was natural to sup-
pose that the Comanche[s] were burning to revenge the death of their
warriors. We camped that night as usual, by the side of a fine pond
whose banks, like those of the river Pecos, close to it, were covered with
a dense growth of cane or grass, to the extent of some hundreds of acres.
It was as high as your head. Our tents stood on a rise of ground at a lit-
tle distance and here the ground was clear, covered only by a dried
grass some six inches long.
I was "turning in" for the night, for everything seemed quiet, when
I heard an exclamation, quick footsteps, a kind of alarm, and then a
young officer comes rushing to my tent front with, "Turn out! Turn
out! There are Indians around us!" How I jerk on my coat, for in its
pockets are all my cartridges. How I don't wait for vests or neck ker-
chiefs, and how I appear, presently, very much awake, scrambling out of
my tent, with my pistol belt half buckled and my rifle in my hand, you
can imagine. There were the soldiers mustered at our tent, with their
arms in their hands and that singular expression of anxiety and firmness
which I suppose is always seen in troops about to engage. Some tight-
ened their belts, some looked once more at the gun-cap to be sure of its
fire, the moon was shining palely, and I could not help a thought of the
romance of the scene as we clustered at the waggons, for their defence.
There was somewhat of amusement also. A couple of Mexicans with
true "greaser" courage were gabbling horrible Spanish and vociferating
"vamos." The little "Comanche" boy had gathered a bow, and arrows
of his own manufacture and was wriggling himself into all kinds of im-
practicable ambuscades, about a waggon wheel. One young cadet was
out with his double-barrelled gun and visions of great distinction,
while your obedient servant was practicing [sic] a kind of fatherly super-
vision and flattering himself that he looked vastly cool and collected.
There was time in all the excitement for a kind thought of "Hamburg."
A sentry reported that attracted by the alarm of a horse he had looked
over the bank and saw, near the high grass, a figure, man or beast he
could not say. He called. No answer. He threw a stone and the figure
fled, like a man, burying itself in the reeds. He was an old Indian
fighter. He thought it was an [I]ndian. Three men were sent, at once,
as we heard this narrative, to the spot. Near the point of disappearance
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Texas State Historical Association. The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 82, July 1978 - April, 1979, periodical, 1978/1979; Austin, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth101206/m1/66/: accessed April 25, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Historical Association.