We had no difficulty in selecting a good halting place, and obtaining fresh spring water and excellent grass.
The General, upon learning from me that the stream--which was only eight or nine miles long--had no name, took out his map and located it, and named it Cody's Creek, which name it still bears.
We pulled out early next morning for the Beaver, and when we were approaching the stream I rode on ahead of the advance guard, in order to find a crossing.

Just as I turned a bend of the creek, "bang!" went a shot, and down went my horse--myself with him.

I disentangled myself, and jumped behind the dead body.

Looking in the direction whence the shot had come, I saw two Indians, and at once turned my gun loose on them, but in the excitement of the moment I missed my aim.

They fired two or three more shots, and I returned the compliment, wounding one of their horses.
On the opposite side of the creek, going over the hill, I observed a few lodges moving rapidly away, and also some mounted warriors, who could see me, and who kept blazing away with their guns.