Woods had been winged in the shoulder.
Simpson, carefully examining the wound, expressed his belief that the arrow which inflicted it had not been poisoned.
[Illustration: A SHOWER OF ARROWS RAINED ON OUR DEAD MULES FROM THE CLOSING CIRCLE OF RED-MEN] But we had little time to worry about that or anything else.

Our enemies were still circling, just out of range.

Here and there when they grew incautious we dropped a man or a pony.

But we were still heavily outnumbered.

They knew it and we knew it.