Lieutenant Collins was born in Hillsboro, Ohio, and at the time of the fight was in appearance but a youth and in fact only twenty years of age. He was a son of Lieutenant-Colonel Collins, a brave Indian fighter, in honor of whom Fort Collins in Colorado was named. Young Collins had been in the Indian country for three years preceding his last fight, a portion of the time with James Bridger. As we stood looking across the river toward the plain where the battle was fought, one of the officers said: "Last July Indians in great numbers seemed to be gathering just north of the bridge somewhere in those hills on the other side of the river. They came in there from various directions. Many of them were supposed to have come over from the Bitter Creek country, where nearly every station on that route had been raided. It was impossible to form any definite idea of their number, except that we were certain there were many thousands of them near us. On July 25th, Lieutenant Collins came in from the East. On the same day several hundred savages crossed the river and stampeded the stock on the reservation. The garrison at the post was exceedingly small and although the loss of even a few men would be a serious matter, a small party of cavalry and infantry was sent out to recover the stock if possible. This effort simply resulted in the loss of a few men on each side. The Indians finally recrossed the river to their rendezvous in the hills. Just about day-break on the following morning a few men from the 11th Ohio cavalry came in from Fort Laramie and at once reported a train of wagons with a small guard from the 11th Kansas cavalry as coming from the west and, as they must pass along the trail at the foot of the hills among which the Indians were holding their vigils, they were sure to be attacked. And now came the critical moment. The men in the post were quickly called to headquarters. It was at once decided to send out a detachment of twenty-five men, in the feeble hope that they might accomplish a rescue. In casting about for a leader for this hazardous venture, one after another declined the service. Lieutenant Collins, although he had just arrived, offered himself at the first opportunity, saying, "I will undertake the task, if I can have a good, fresh horse, as mine is badly fagged from my ride." The Lieutenant appeared to be but a boy, but he had a known record for bravery and endurance. Major Howard accepted the volunteer, and although some of the older soldiers openly discouraged the undertaking, the young leader quickly mounted a fresh, spirited horse and in the early morning, at the head of his little body of mounted men, rapidly galloped over the bridge, followed more slowly by thirty infantry. Caspar's band had not proceeded more than three-fourths of a mile, when the hills on both sides of it were suddenly alive with savages, who in thousands rushed down the slopes and out from every