While I was engaged in getting the water, the mule jerked loose and struck out down the creek.

I followed him in hopes that he would catch his foot in the bridle rein and stop, but this he seemed to have no idea of doing.

He was making straight for the wagon road, and I did not know what minute he might run into a band of Indians.

He finally got on the road, but instead of going back toward Fort Dodge, as I naturally expected he would do, he turned eastward toward Fort Larned, and kept up a little jog trot just ahead of me, but would not let me come up to him, although I tried it again and again.

I had my gun in my hand, and several times I was strongly tempted to shoot him, and would probably have done so had it not been for fear of bringing Indians down upon me, and besides he was carrying the saddle for me.