When within a day's ride of the post, Mr. Loving took Wilson with him
and started in to Fort Sumner. The heat of August on the herd had made
recovery slow, but if a two weeks' postponement could be agreed on,
it was believed the beeves would qualify. The circumstances were
unavoidable; the government had been lenient before; so, hopeful of
accomplishing his mission, the senior member of the firm set out on
his way. The two men left camp at daybreak, cautioned by Goodnight
to cross the river by a well-known trail, keeping in the open, even
though it was farther, as a matter of safety. They were well mounted
for the trip, and no further concern was given to their welfare until
the second morning, when Loving's horse came into camp, whinnying for
his mates. There were blood-stains on the saddle, and the story of a
man who was cautious for others and careless of himself was easily
understood. Conjecture was rife. The presence of the horse admitted of
several interpretations. An Indian ambush was the most probable, and
a number of men were detailed to ferret out the mystery. We were then
seventy miles below Sumner, and with orders to return to the herd at
night six of us immediately started. The searching party was divided
into squads, one on either side of the Pecos River, but no results
were obtained from the first day's hunt. The herd had moved up fifteen
miles during the day, and the next morning the search was resumed,
the work beginning where it had ceased the evening before.
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