Returning to the main brook
with Chiquita, we tied the horses to the willows and began a search
for Vic. I called her by all the pet names to which she was
accustomed, but received no response. I searched over as great a
distance as I dared, with a consciousness that a band of Navajos was
not far distant.
Reluctantly abandoning our search, we were preparing to return to the
train and escort when we descried a large war-party of Indians riding
towards us from the direction of the _cienaga_. It was at once evident
they saw us, for, raising a terrific war-whoop, their irregular mass
broke for us in a furious charge.
Death certainly awaited us if captured, and this thought prompted us
to leave our exposed position instantly. Leading Chiquita, and telling
Frank to follow, I dashed down the stream in the direction of the Fort
Wingate road.
As we flew along, feeling positive that the Indians would overtake us,
I eagerly surveyed the rocky wall on our left, hoping to find a break
in which we could shelter ourselves and hold the enemy in check until
our friends arrived.
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