We knew that a large ox-train, consisting of forty wagons or more and known as the Hopkins train, would cross the Loup Fork the next morning. There were quite a number of women and children in the train; hence our gallantry, as well as our bravery, prompted assistance. Further, we had concluded that it was wise to travel in larger bodies through the country of the Pawnees. According to our estimate, this train would arrive at the danger point, or toll gate, between ten and eleven o'clock a. m. Thirty of us volunteered to go back, to assist in case of difficulty. We were mostly mounted and ready for the start, when we saw a horseman rapidly approaching us, and we rode out to meet him. He told us that the Hopkins train had been attacked by the Indians, that two of his company had been seriously, if not mortally, wounded; and he asked for a doctor. The doctor was with us and readily consented to go, after returning to the wagon for instruments and medicine he might need. The rest of dashed up the gentle slope--hurry-scurry, pell-mell. At the top we slackened our speed for observation. We saw that the Indians had abandoned the conflict and were hurrying to the river, on the further side of which was their village. The occasional puff and report of a white man's rifle, at long and ineffective range, no doubt quickened their speed. We struck out on an acute angle to cut them off from the river, but failed. Those in boats had either reached or were near the other shore, some three or four hundred yards away; those in the water swam with the current and were practically out of danger: the boys, however, took some shots at the retreating heads. I think no Indian was killed or wounded by the shooting, but some of the boys were of a different opinion. We were at the river bank but a short time; but before we left it, the lame chief and his two subalterns, mentioned above, came down to the opposite shore, raised their hands to show that they had no weapons, then jumped into a canoe and rapidly crossed the river to us. They asked permission to go up with us to see their dead and to care for their wounded. The chief said five Indians were dead and many wounded. We saw but three dead and two slightly wounded. Two white men were wounded--one with a flint-headed arrow in the chest, the other shot with a large ball through the fleshy part of the thigh close to the bone. Although the arrow-head had entered the chest cavity, it had not pierced any vital organ, and recovery was rapid; the other wound was of a complex character, which I cannot mention, and was dangerous if not mortal. This man was slowly recovering, however, while he remained with us and under the doctor's assiduous care. What the final result was I never knew. The wounded having been attended to, the train was soon on the move for our camp. After a consultation held that evening, it was agreed that we should travel together through the Pawnee country, and