Every rifle in the hands of the white men in the two
buildings spoke, and instantly the notch emptied itself pell-mell of
its living throng. Only a few prostrate bodies showed the Apaches had
been there.
With the discharge of fire-arms a silence immediately fell upon the
scene, in marked contrast to the shrieking and yelling of a moment
before. The bonfire burned low, and went out. Once more we were in
darkness.
We believed the Indians would make no further demonstration, and an
hour later a scouting party ascertained that they had gathered their
dead and departed. Sentinels were posted, the ambulance run in by
hand, the stock fed, and a midnight meal cooked.
While sitting by the camp-fire, listening to the sizzling of the bacon
and sniffing the aroma of the coffee, Mr. Hopkins introduced me to his
men and guests, and I heard an explanation of the tracks and blood at
Soldiers' Holes.
Early that morning three gentlemen, who had passed the night at the
ranch, started for Prescott. They were a Mr. Gray, a Scotch merchant
at La Paz; Mr.
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