Fully convinced that we were in the presence of an enemy determined to kill or capture our little party, no attempt was made to parley. The ponies were hurriedly drawn together so as to form a barrier against the assaults of the Indians, who were now in short range and gradually closing in upon us. As they galloped around us, the Indians formed a circle and kept up an incessant fire, to which we replied over the backs of our ponies, but with little effect, as from their mode of attack they were a constantly shifting target and difficult to reach, even with the best weapons in use. My own equipment consisted of a carbine, such as I had used in the cavalry service during the Civil War, and a 22-calibre Colt's revolver. Gordon and the Mexican were each provided with a Winchester rifle and navy revolver, while nearly all the Arrapahoes were armed with Winchesters and revolvers. But few moments were required to settle the unequal contest. Four of our horses fell in rapid succession, including my own mustang; in the meantime we brought down one Indian and three ponies. The Indian was instantly killed by a shot from the Mexican. On seeing one of their number fall, the Arrapahoes rushed upon us with deafening yells, and with such force as to render resistance useless. Our arms were taken from us, our horses quickly seized, and, in much less time than it takes to tell it, we were mounted and riding at a rapid pace to the northward, under a guard of six well-armed Indians, who were carefully instructed as to their duties by their chief, Lone Wolf. The remainder of the band were more or less occupied in scouring the country for horses and other plunder, wanted for their encampment in the Black Hills. [Illustration: DECIDING THE FATE OF THE CAPTIVES.]