I was in town that night, and when the shooting began I ran back off the main street, but bullets seemed to be hitting all around me. The first thing I came to that looked like protection was a wagon with a mule tied to it. I ducked under the wagon—but between the bullets hitting the wagon and that old mule bucking on the end of the halter, I put in a quarter of an hour very uncomfortable. But the mule and myself escaped unhurt. Part of that regiment of negro soldiers were afterwards transferred to Wyoming to stop a war that broke out between the stock men and cattle rustlers, and they pulled off another job about like they did in Scooptown. There was a little town established at the end of the Burlington Railroad on Powder River. It was named Sugs. The town consisted mostly of saloons and the sporting element. Those negro soldiers got into some difficulty with some of the citizens of the town and decided to have revenge. They were camped a little ways outside of Sugs in tents. So one night they stole some ammunition and guns like they had done before at Scooptown, and started in to town to shoot it up. It was quite a dark night and the only lights the town had was coal oil lamps. The town had about 500 population and one street. Those soldiers lined up at the end of the street and started shooting at every building, tent, or any form they saw, and everybody that could run for cover—in half finished cellars, out houses or any hole they could get into. There was an old man there—(he was a Jew)—who had started a little hardware store, and had a few dish pans hung on the wall of his tent store, and about the first bullet that hit anything of consequence was those dish pans. They were hung one on top of another, and the bullet went through all of them. And while everyone was running for cover the Jew saw his pans wrecked. He stopped right there and said, “Oh my God, look at what they have done to my hardware.”