I mounted a horse and rode to the spot, and learned that Brother George A. had found a mounted Indian leading off his horse, and that he took the Indian's horse by the bit, when the stolen horse was readily given up, with which the owner started for camp. The Indian who had taken the horse and a companion then rode a short distance together, when one came up by the side of Brother George A., and asked him for his revolver. Not suspecting any treachery, he passed it to the Indian, who handed it to his companion a little in the rear. The latter then fired three shots into him, with the revolver only a few feet from his body. Brother Smith was paralyzed, and soon fell from his horse. The two Indians then dismounted, and one threw his buckskin shirt over his head, and the other shot the arrows between his shoulders. We took the dying man on a blanket near to the camp, when he earnestly requested us to lay him down and let him die in peace. During this time about forty Navajos had gathered at a difficult place on the trail leading to the Moqui towns, probably anticipating that we would make an effort to go in that direction. I sent our interpreter to ask them what they meant by shooting a man after they had agreed with us that if we would trade with them we might go in peace. He returned with a message to the effect that three relatives of the Indians had been killed by pale faces like us, and, to avenge their death they had shot one of our men. They said: "Tell Jacob that he need not bury him, for we will eat him, and the women and children will help do it. We want to kill two more; and if Jacob will give them up or let us quietly kill them, the rest of the company may go in peace." The question was asked me, "What are you going to do?" Under the trying circumstances, it was a serious question; and the query was an earnest one with us all, "What can we do?" The heavens seemed like brass over our heads, and the earth as iron beneath our feet. It seemed utterly impossible to reach the Moqui towns, which were almost in sight, and like certain death to attempt to escape in the night with our jaded animals. Our interpreter thought it would be better for two of the company to die, than for all to be killed. I told him to go and tell the Navajos that there were only a few of us, but we were well armed, and should fight as long as there was one left. He turned to go, rather reluctantly, saying again that he thought it better for only two to die than all. I replied that I did not think so; that I would not give a cent to live after I had given up two men to be murdered; that I would rather die like a man than live like a dog.