Satisfied that an open attack would eventuate in death to some of their number, nearly one-half of the Indians left the ranks and passed from our sight down the cañon, but soon reappeared, emerging from the thicket on the opposite side of our camp. We wheeled our four horses into a hollow square, and, standing in the centre, presented our guns at each assaulting party. As our horses were the booty they most wished to obtain, they were now restrained lest they should kill them instead of us. A few moments of painful suspense—moments into which days of anxiety were crowded—supervened. A brief consultation followed, and the chief gave orders for them to withdraw. They all wheeled into rapid line, and with the military precision of a troop of cavalry dashed down the cañon and we saw them no more. Thankful for an escape attributable to the snow which had unfitted their guns for use, and to the successful raid they had made upon our neighbors, we saddled our horses and hurried over the mountain range with all possible speed. While crossing, we found two horses which, jaded with travel, had been abandoned by the Indians. We took them with us, and on our arrival at Grasshopper some days after, restored one to Dr. Glick, its rightful owner. “I have had seven horses stolen from me by these prowlers,” said he, “but this is the first one that was ever returned.” The little gulch at Pike’s Peak was fully occupied when we arrived, and after remaining a few days, we mounted our horses and made a tedious but unadventurous journey to Bannack, then, and for nearly a year afterwards, the most important gold placer east of the Rocky Mountains. The fame of this locality had reached Salmon River late in the Fall of 1862, and many of the people left the Florence mines for the east side. Among them came the first irruption of robbers, gamblers, and horse-thieves, and the settlement was filled with gambling houses and saloons, where bad men and worse women held constant vigil, and initiated that reign of infamy which nothing but the strong hand could extirpate. CHAPTER XV BANNACK IN 1862