[Illustration: Captain William F. Drannan, Chief of Scouts.] CAPT. W.F. DRANNAN, CHIEF OF SCOUTS, As Pilot to Emigrant and Government Trains, Across the Plains of the Wild West of Fifty Years Ago. AS TOLD BY HIMSELF, AS A SEQUEL TO HIS FAMOUS BOOK "THIRTY ONE YEARS ON THE PLAINS AND IN THE MOUNTAINS." _Copiously Illustrated by E. BERT SMITH._ 1910 PREFACE The kindly interest with which the public has received my first book, "Thirty-one Years on the Plains and in the Mountains," has tempted me into writing this second little volume, in which I have tried to portray that part of my earlier life which was spent in piloting emigrant and government trains across the Western Plains, when "Plains" meant wilderness, with nothing to encounter but wild animals, and wilder, hostile Indian tribes. When every step forward might have spelt disaster, and deadly danger was likely to lurk behind each bush or thicket that was passed. The tales put down here are tales of true occurrences,--not fiction. They are tales that were lived through by throbbing hearts of men and women, who were all bent upon the one, same purpose:--to plow onward, onward, through danger and death, till their goal, the "land of gold," was reached, and if the kind reader will receive them and judge them as such, the purpose of this little book will be amply and generously fulfilled. W.F.D. CONTENTS CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 [Illustration: The Attack Upon the Train.] ILLUSTRATIONS FROM DRAWINGS BY E. BERT SMITH. Captain W.F. Drannan, Chief of Scouts With the exception of Carson, we were all scared As soon as they were gone, I took the Scalp off the dead Chief's head The first thing we knew the whole number that we had first seen were upon us Waving my hat, I dashed into the midst of the band Fishing with the girls They raced around us in a circle The mother bear ran up to the dead cub and pawed it with her feet The next morning we struck the trail for Bent's Fort I took the lead I bent over him and spoke to him, but he did not answer [Illustration: With the exception of Carson, we were all scared.] CHAPTER 1. At the age of fifteen I found myself in St. Louis, Mo., probably five hundred miles from my childhood home, with one dollar and a half in money in my pocket. I did not know one person in that whole city, and no one knew me. After I had wandered about the city a few days, trying to find something to do to get a living, I chanced to meet what proved to be the very best that could have happened to me. I met Kit Carson, the world's most famous frontiersman, the man to whom not half the credit has been given that was his due.