We had been there but a short time when Frank McCarthy, seeing that the longer we were corraled the worse it would be for us, said: "Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to Fort Kearney by wading in the river and keeping the bank for a breast-work." We all agreed that this was the best plan, and we accordingly proceeded down the river several miles in this way, managing to keep the Indians at a safe distance with our guns, until the slough made a junction with the main Platte river.

From there down we found the river at times quite deep, and in order to carry the wounded man along with us we constructed a raft of poles for his accommodation, and in this way he was transported.
Occasionally the water would be too deep for us to wade, and we were obliged to put our weapons on the raft and swim.

The Indians followed us pretty close, and were continually watching for an opportunity to get a good range and give us a raking fire.

Covering ourselves by keeping well under the bank, we pushed ahead as rapidly as possible, and made pretty good progress, the night finding us still on the way and our enemies still on our track.
I being the youngest and smallest of the party, became somewhat tired, and without noticing it I had fallen behind the others for some little distance.

It was about ten o'clock and we were keeping very quiet and hugging close to the bank, when I happened to look up to the moon-lit sky and saw the plumed head of an Indian peeping over the bank.