The Indians, who were no doubt Sioux were not wearing face paint so I assumed they were a hunting party, nevertheless, We weathered some pretty tense moments as the Indians sat on their horses talking and pointing. I had a perfect bead on what I assumed was the leader, but finally they began to move, but the guy kept looking over his shoulder on his back trail. We waited for almost twenty minutes in the fear that they might just have a change of heart and come riding back on us.
We encountered no more trouble, however as we neared what I hoped was the end of the hills I became more cautious in fear that someone had been alerted that we were coming through the hills. My caution paid off as we neared the opposite side of the hills. I had been spotting well ahead of the trail, and seeing nothing, but just as I was getting up I saw in the distance what appeared to be a small dust cloud. I almost missed it but it was the sniper's "sixth sense" that called for another look.
Sure enough, there were six men coming up the trail, then suddenly they were gone. I could only assume they had found a spot off the trail to hide in. Jake and I found a box canyon to picket the horses, then it was a hike to a high outcrop of rocks I was sure I could spot our would-be ambushers. We hiked around a hundred yards until we acme across the spot I had been looking for. Even at this place I couldn't see all of them, but then I spotted a man climbing up one of the rocks to act as spotter. I couldn't let this stand, so the spotter was the first man to die.