Not one Indian had been seen on the road except
the Apache, and this made us all the more uncomfortable. Snake Creek
was where the two couriers were shot by Indians last summer, and that
did not add to our feelings of security--at least not mine. We were in
a little coulee, too, where it would have been an easy matter for
Indians to have sneaked upon us. No one in the camp slept much that
night, and most of the men were walking post to guard the animals. And
those mules! I never heard mules, and horses also, sneeze and cough
and make so much unnecessary noise as those animals made that night.
And Hal acted like a crazy dog--barking and growling and rushing out
of the tent every two minutes, terrifying me each time with the fear
that he might have heard the stealthy step of a murderous savage.
Everyone lived through the night, however, but we were all glad to
make an early start, so before daylight we were on the road. The old
sergeant agreed with Faye in thinking that we were in a trap at the
camp, and should move on early. We did not stop at the Redoubt, but I
saw as we passed that the red curtains were still at the little
window.
It seems that we are not much more safe in this place than we were in
camp in an Indian country. The town is dreadful and has the reputation
of being one of the very worst in the West since the railroad has been
built.
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