I was on the skirmish line, and noticed an Indian who was riding a large bay horse, and giving orders to his men in his own language.
I could understand part of what he said.

He was telling them that they had lost everything and were ruined, and was entreating them to follow him until they died.

The horse this chief was riding was extremely fleet.

I determined to capture him if possible, but I was afraid to fire at the rider lest I kill the horse.
Often the Indian, as he rode around the skirmish line, passed the head of a ravine.

It occurred to me that if I dismounted and crept up the ravine, I could, as he passed, easily drop him from the saddle with no fear of hitting the horse.