When he reached us he said that Captain Saunders and two of his men were wounded, one horse killed and several wounded. One soldier was thought to be fatally hurt; and Bill had come for our team and wagon to haul them to our camp, as the two soldiers were unable to sit on their horses. We were soon busy hitching up the mules while Bill gave us the particulars of their fight. It appeared that in chasing the fleeing Kiowas, Bill, accompanied by several soldiers, had become separated from Saunders and the main party, and the scout, not being at hand to guide the captain, the latter in his eager pursuit of the enemy had made the mistake of closely following the Indians into the timber, which blunder they had anticipated and had ambushed the soldiers. "I thought Cap. knew better than that," said Bill, "but it was partly my fault. I knew he'd never fought Injuns before, and I ought to have stayed with him and stopped him short of the brush." In spite of his crippled condition, old Tom came hobbling out of the dugout, with his little medicine-chest and a bundle of rags under his arm for bandages, and insisted on going with the team to do what he could for the wounded. Jack's wounded arm prevented him from handling the team, so we left him in camp and I went along to drive the mules. Lieutenant Wilson had received orders to remain at our camp with his detachment until further orders. After being helped into the wagon, Tom's foresight prompted him to call to me: "Peck, throw in some bedding and get some grub--sugar, coffee, hardtack, and meat--to take along, and a camp kettle and frying-pan and a few tin cups." I remembered the bale of buffalo robes I had cut open in the tent the night before for my own comfort and, calling one of the soldiers to help me, brought them out and tumbled them into the wagon, with the desired rations and utensils. I then took the lines and whip and started at a trot, guided by Wild Bill riding alongside. As we trotted along I asked the scout: "How many Kiowas did you and Saunders' party kill?" "The returns are not all in yet," replied Bill, "but I think we got seven or eight. I got three of them for my share. That was all I could catch before they got into the timber; and, of course, when they got to the brush I had to give up the chase and let them go." "It's most too good a thing to hope that old Satank'll be found among the killed," said Tom. "No, I'm afraid we'll not find him among them," replied Bill regretfully, "for I reckon his luck has saved him again, unless he may be among them that were killed out near the wagon. If I can get time I'll ride around over the prairie and take a good look at all of them, and the old rascal may be found among them; but I'll be surprised if he is, for he has wonderful luck in getting out of tight places."