When found in the
cave, his feet were badly swollen, compelling him to travel in the
river-bed to protect them from sandburs and thorns. He was taken up
behind one of the boys on a horse, and we returned to camp.
Wilson firmly believed that Loving was dead, and described the scene
of the fight so clearly that any one familiar with the river would
have no difficulty in locating the exact spot. But the next morning as
we were nearing the place we met an ambulance in the road, the driver
of which reported that Loving had been brought into Sumner by a
freight outfit. On receipt of this information Goodnight hurried on to
the post, while the rest of us looked over the scene, recovered the
buried guns of Wilson, and returned to the herd. Subsequently we
learned that the next morning after Wilson left Loving had crawled to
the river for a drink, and, looking upstream, saw some one a mile
or more distant watering a team. By firing his pistol he attracted
attention to himself and so was rescued, the Indians having decamped
during the night. To his partner, Mr. Loving corroborated Wilson's
story, and rejoiced to know that his comrade had also escaped.
Everything that medical science could do was done by the post surgeons
for the veteran cowman, but after lingering twenty-one days he died.
Wilson and the wounded boy both recovered, the cattle were delivered
in two installments, and early in October we started homeward,
carrying the embalmed remains of the pioneer drover in a light
conveyance.
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