Sometimes conditions would be such that every warrior in the tribe would be allowed, nay, would be honor-bound--to take part in the melee, and aid his tribesman to win his wife. It would then be a national war, and would be conducted on long-established rules and ceremonies which the Indians hold in deep reverence. In 1861, at the frontier town of Santa Clara, in southern Utah, I witnessed one of these tribal fights. A young, slender, delicate-looking girl, evidently the belle of Tutsegovett's band, was purchased by a brave of Coal Creek John's band; but a brave of the Santa Clara tribe was the girl's accepted lover. The aspirants were men of influence in their respective bands, though they were unequal in physical ability. The man from Cedar, whom I will call Ankawakeets, was a large, muscular, well-matured man of commanding personality--a warrior tried and proven, while Panimeto, the Clara man, was only a stripling; a youth of fine features and an eagle eye, bespeaking pride and ambition, but fifty pounds lighter in weight than Ankawakeets. By the rules of the contest, this physical difference made it impossible for the lovers to settle it by single combat; hence, it was arranged by tribal agreement, that twenty warriors on each side should participate in the struggle. The ground selected was a flat just west of the old Clara fort. A square was marked off, the creek being chosen for the south line; a line drawn in the sand marked the east, west, and north boundaries. East of the east line was Ankawakeets' goal, which, if he could reach with the girl, she was his; contra, west of the west line was Panimeto's goal, claiming the same concessions. On opposite sides of a line running north and south through the center of this square where the braves, lined up, stripped to the skin save for the indispensable gee-string. At the tap of the Indian drum, with bowed heads, and arms wildly beating the air, the two files rushed like angry bullocks upon each other. The air-hitting was fierce and rapid for a few minutes, until a second tap of the drum, when the warriors clinched, and the mass became a seething, whirling, cyclone of dark figures, cheered on by the squaw, and by an occasional war-whoop from some interested, on-looking warrior. To vanquish an opponent you had to throw him and hold him flat on his back for the supposed time it would take to scalp an actual enemy. At the end of an hour's exciting struggle, a few warriors on each side had been vanquished; but the forces remaining were equal in number, so neither party had gained any advantage.