Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1898-04-30
TO THE RESCUE.


On the morning of July 8, 1878, I
was sitting i'll the shade of our adobe
ranch building on the bank of the South
ing along the dusty trail to the north of
the horse corral.
"Some drunken pilgrim from Jules
burg, " thought, for although Jules
burg was nearly 100 miles distant l
knew that more than one tramp had
there bought enough "tanglefoot' to
keep him drunk until he either reached
Denver or lost his scalp on the way.
l regarded the man lazily until he
came so near that his head and features
began to take definite shape. Then l
saw with alarm that his hatless head
was literally the color of blood and that
his shirt front was marked with dark
streaks. | got up and hurried to meet
him. To my horror, upon a near ap-
proach l discovered that he had not
only been wounded in the head, but had
been actually scalped.
will not attempt to describe his
frightful condition. Yet he had full
control of his faculties and began rapid
ly telling his sad story as put my arm
about him to steady his walk.
He had been travelling toward Denver
from the east, driving light wagon
which contained only himself, his wife
and few household articles anu pro-
visions. They had camped on the river
about two miles below our ranch the
night before. About daylight, just as
they were getting breakfast, they had
been pounced upon by a party of mount
ed Indians, who rode out from the
mouth OF a gulch close at hand and
opened fire upon them.
81 was frying a pan of bacon" said
the man-his name was William Rosa
when suddenly heard them
yelling. l looked up and just got a
glimpse of them-a dozen or 10, /
should say-when they began firing,
and | felt what might have been a
stroke on my head, and no more When
! woke up, was the way you see me.
The wreck of my wagon was there, but
my wife and horses were gone. And so /
staggered away, and here l am, and
whether | ought to thank God l didn't
see my wife lying there dead is more
than | know. ! suppose they've carried
her away a prisoner.
AT the sight of the poor man there
was in me a fury of desire to punish the
tiends who had so mutilated him, and
when he begged me to go at once to the
nearest post for help to rescue his wife
! said: "There's no need. AS there were
only 2 or 10 We'll try it ourselves"
"Rouse, rouse!" shouted to my men
in the hut. Fortunately there were in it
five OF them asleep,
They reused instantly and were as
surprised, Mortified and fierce as myself
at the dreadful plight of Rosamond.
While | set about washing and dressing
his wounded head they bolted some food
and coffee, saddled horses and declared
they would follow the Indians any
where, if only their trail could be struck
and kept.
The bullet, I found, had struck Rosa
mond on the temple near the left eye
and had not penetrated the skull, but
had passed around under the skin and
come out behind the ear. The scalpine
knife had barred the skull on top in
circle about four inches in diameter !
soon had the wounds dressed and band.
aged; then, at his urgent request, we
left the man to care for himself.
With two days ration in our sad
dlebags and an extra pony for each of
us we galloped away i'll pursuit of the
Indians, and soon found the wreck of
the wagon beside the trail some two
miles from the ranch.
After thorough search for some dis.
tance on every side, we became satisfied
that Mrs. Rosamond had been taken
captive. Then we took the trail of the
ponies of the Indians and of the two
shod horses they had captured
AS this trail led us across the sandy
valley to the north we judged the party
to be Cheyennes or Sioux, for Arapahoes
or Comanches would most likely have
taken the opposite direction.
Bow Legs, our expert tracker, for
merly "pony express" rider, rode in
advance at a jog trot over hard ground
and at gallop across the frequent sand
tracts, all the time leaning forward,
with his face beside his pony's neck
and his eyes following the prints of the
shoes of the shod horses. And so about
noon he led us up to the high land
which formed the divide between the
Platte and Grow creek. The day was
clear, hot and fortunately devoid of that
haze or mirage which SO often prevails
in that region.
"Now, boss, said Bow Legs, "get
out your glass and take squint down
across bout Is or 20 miles ahead. The
Indians have only been riding at a jog,
and they ought to be in sight"
AS was superintendent of large
round up, ! always carried in my saddle
holsters signal service glass of first
rate power. Now, after a moments
scrutiny, my binocular happened to
catch the savages just as they were 60
ing over ridge. l had time to count
III horsemen and number of led ami