"We had fightin' until night ag'in, but no men were killed arter the fust day. The savages were cautious-like, and took long range fur it. We now commenced cuttin' off the hind quarters of our dead hosses, and boilin' small pieces in a empty pickle-jar belongin' ter ther colonel. Burke, he 'd dug a shallow well, too, which gave us plenty of water. Hoss meat isn't relishin' at fust. One kin eat it, but, as ther feller said about crow, he don't hanker arter it. Ther gases had got all through ther carcasses, and we had ter sprinkle lots o' gunpowder inter the pot, to kill the taste. "The fust hoss cut up was my old sorrel. He didn't go well while livin', and couldn't be expected to when dead. Instead of takin' a straight course, and givin' some satisfaction, he jumped across all the turns inside o' me, and brought up bump agin my hide, as if he wer comin' through. He had that same trick o' cuttin' corners when livin', and I perceded ter give him up as a uncontrollable piece of hoss flesh. "When night come on agin, Pliley and Whitney attempted ter get through ther Injun lines and make fur Wallace, but were driven back. Fur ther next few days we kept eatin' hoss flesh, and fightin' occasionally. The third night Pliley and Donovan succeeded in gettin' away. "On the fourth day, Doctor Moore died. After the fifth, no Injuns was visible, and we gathered prickly pears and eat 'em, boilin' some down inter syrup. Our mouths were all full of ther little needles, and it wer mighty hard keepin' a stiff upper lip. We were eatin' away on our forty-eight horses, and watchin' and hopin'. We couldn't move, and leave our wounded, or the Injuns would be on 'em right off. The poor fellows had no surgeon, and were sufferin' terrible as 't was. "Ther mornin' of ther ninth day broke with a cry of 'Injuns!' Now, human natur' can't stand fitin' allers. To carry out my shipwreck idee, fellers on a raft kin cling an' swaller water fur awhile, but they can't fight a hull grist o' hurricanes. Hoss meat an' prickly pears ain't jest ther thing, either, to slap grit inter a man. Ther were a big crowd comin', sure enough, way off on ther hills. We were kinder beginnin' ter despond, when a familiar sort o' motion on the fur dark line spelt in air the word, 'Friend!' It wer the advanced guard o' relief, approachin' on ther jump. Why, boy"--and the old scout seized hold of Semi, and shook him in excitement--"talk of Lucknow and ther camels a comin', they warn't nowhar. The blessed old blue cloth! If yer want ter love a color, jest get saved by it once. When I get holed in ther earth, I 'll take back ter dust on a blue blanket, an' if I get married afore, gal an' I'll wear blue, an' the preacher'll hev ter swar a blue streak in jinin' us!"