The Press., 1898-06-09
TO THE RESCUE.

9u bn0 morning or July D, 1010s ! was sitting in the shade of our adobe ranch building on the bank of the South Platte, when I noticed a man stagger- ing along the dusty trail to the north of the horse corral.
 "Soms drunken pilgrim from Jules burg, " thought, for although Jules burg was nearly 100 miles distant I 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.
 regarded the man lazily until he came so near that his head and features began to take definite shape. Then 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 8 near ap- proach I 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 a light wagon which contained only himself, his wife and a few household articles and 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 bounced upon by party of mount ed Indians, who rode out from the mouth of a gulch close at hand and opened fire upon them.
 "I was frying pan of bacon,'' said the man-his name was William Rosa mond-"when suddenly heard them yelling. I looked up and just got a glimpse of them-a dozen or 15, I should say-when they began firing, and I felt what might have been 8 stroke on my head, and DO more. When woke up, was the way you see me. The wreck of my wagon was there, but E my wife and horses were gone. And so I lsrsgE Ted away.1and- here | am, and whether ought to thank God I 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 fury of desire to punish the fiends who had so mutilated him, and when he begged me to go at once to the nearest post for help to rescue his wife I said: "There's no need. AS there were only 12 or 15 we'll try it ourselves"
 Rouse, rouse l" 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 scalping knife had barred the skull on top in a circle about four inches in diameter. I 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 in 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 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 Crow 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 15 or 20 miles ahead. The Indians have only been riding at jog, and they ought to be in sight As was superintendent of a large round up, I always carried in lny saddle | holsters signal service glass of first