About 1 o’clock of the afternoon the last of the rangers returned from the pursuit of Pohebits Quasho’s discomfited braves, just in time to anticipate this threatened attack. As Capt. Ross (who was one of the last to return) rode up, he enquired “What hour of the morning is it, Colonel?” “Morning!” exclaimed Col. Ford, “it is one o’clock of the afternoon;” so unconscious is one of the flight of time during an engagement, that the work of hours seems comprised within the space of a few moments. “Hello! what are you in line of battle for?” asked Ross. “Look at the hills there, and you will see,” calmly replied Col. Ford, pointing to the hills some half a mile distant, behind which the forces of Peta Nocona were visible; an imposing line of 500 warriors drawn up in battle array. Col. Ford had with 221 men fought and routed over 400 Comanches, and now he was confronted by a stronger force, fresh from their village still higher up on the Canadian. They had come to drive the “pale faces” and their hated copper-colored allies from the captured camp, to retake prisoners, to retake over four hundred head of horses and an immense quantity of plunder. They did not fancy the defiant state of preparations awaiting them in the valley, however, and were waiting to avail themselves of some incautious movement on the part of the rangers, when the wily Peta Nocona with his forces would spring like a lion from his lair, and with one combined and desperate effort swoop down and annihilate the enemy. But his antagonist was a soldier of too much sagacity to allow any advantage to a vigilant foe. The two forces remained thus contemplating each other for over an hour; during which time a series of operations ensued between single combatants illustrative of the Indian mode of warfare, and the marked difference between the nomadic Comanche and his semi-civilized congeners, the Tonchua. The Tonchuas took advantage of ravines, trees and other natural shelter. Their arms were rifles and “six-shooters.” The Comanches came to the attack with shield and bow and lance, mounted on gaily caparisoned and prancing steeds, and flaunting feathers and all the “georgeous” display incident to savage “finery” and pomp. They are probably the most expert equestrians in the world. A Comanche warrior would gaily canter to a point half way between the opposing lines, yell a defiant “war hoop,” and shake his shield. This was a challenge to single combat. Several of the friendly Indians who accepted such challenges were placed _hors de combat_ by their more expert adversaries, and in consequence Col. Ford ordered them to decline the savage banters; much to the dissatisfaction of Placido, who had conducted himself throughout the series of engagements with the bearing of a savage hero.