The front of the camp looked towards the creek, which flowed over
bowlders and pebbles with a great rush and roar. The Indians were
expected in their flight to make a dash for the stream, and attempt to
pass through the shoal rapids to the wooded bluffs beyond. My
instructions were for the men to screen themselves on the flanks,
behind the yuccas, Spanish-bayonet, emole, and cacti. Accompanied by
Tom Clary and Paul Weaver, I selected a clump of vegetation on the
northern side, from which the front of the tents could be observed.
Sergeant Rafferty, with George Cooler, was on the opposite flank, and
the lighting of a tree on my side was to be the signal for one to be
lighted on the other, and for the yelling to begin.
This plan was carried out. The flash of one match was followed
promptly by the flash of another. Two flames burst forth, and rapidly
climbed the shaggy trunks of the little palms, lighting up the whole
locality. At the same instant an imitation war-whoop burst from
vigorous lungs and throats.
Every one held his rifle in readiness to shoot the escaping Apaches,
but not a redskin showed his jetty head.
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