At that moment, the light fog which had been hovering over the river was dispersed, and the other shore became visible, and showed us a sight which arrested our attention.

There, too, the drama of destruction was acting, though on a smaller scale.
Just opposite to us was a canoe, the same in which our two Indians had gone upon their expedition the day before.

The two Umbiquas keeping the stolen horses were a few yards from it; they had apparently discovered it a few minutes before, and were uncertain what course to pursue; they heard both the war-whoop and the yell of their own people, and were not a little puzzled; but as soon as the fog was entirely gone they perceived their party, where they had sheltered themselves, and probably in obedience to some signals from it, they prepared to cross the river.
At the very moment they were untying the canoe, there was a flash and two sharp reports; the Indians fell down--they were dead.

Our two scouts, who were concealed behind some bushes, then appeared, and began coolly to take the scalps, regardless of a shower of arrows from the yelling and disappointed Umbiquas.

Nor was this all: in their rage and anxiety, our enemies had exposed themselves beyond the protection of the rock; they presented a fair mark, and just as the chief was looking behind him to see if there was any movement to fear from the boat-house, four more of his men fell under our fire.
The horrible yells which followed, I can never describe, although the events of this my first fight are yet fresh in my mind.