After galloping about twenty miles I reached the top of a small hill overlooking the valley of that beautiful stream.
As I was gazing on the landscape, I suddenly saw a band of about thirty Indians nearly half a mile distant; I knew by the way they jumped on their horses that they had seen me as soon as I came into sight.
The only chance I had for my life was to make a run for it, and I immediately wheeled and started back towards the railroad.

Brigham seemed to understand what was up, and he struck out as if he comprehended that it was to be a run for life.

He crossed a ravine in a few jumps, and on reaching a ridge beyond, I drew rein, looked back and saw the Indians coming for me at full speed and evidently well-mounted.

I would have had little or no fear of being overtaken if Brigham had been fresh; but as he was not, I felt uncertain as to how he would stand a long chase.
[Illustration: BUFFALO BILL.] My pursuers seemed to be gaining on me a little, and I let Brigham shoot ahead again; when we had run about three miles farther, some eight or nine of the Indians were not over two hundred yards behind, and five or six of these seemed to be shortening the gap at every jump.

Brigham now exerted himself more than ever, and for the next three or four miles he got "right down to business," and did some of the prettiest running I ever saw.