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How Estorijo can cackle on, reeling off his senseless, pointless funny stories, is beyond me. Bunt is almost as bad. They understand the fix we are in, I know, but how they can take it so easily is the staggering surprise. I feel that I am as courageous as either of them, but levity seems horribly inappropriate. I could kill Estorijo joyfully. "Sunday morning. Still no developments.
Estorijo and I are both sure that Idaho hit the Red One, but Idaho himself is doubtful, and Bunt did not see the shot. I could swear that the Red One all but went off his pony. However, he seems active enough now. "Monday morning. Still another night without attack. I have not slept since Friday evening. The strain is terrific.
"My death occurred in western Arizona, April 15th, at the hands of a roving band of Hunt-in-the-Morning's bucks. They have "Five o'clock. The last cartridge gone. "Estorijo still breathing. I cover his face with my hat. Their fire is incessant. Am much weaker. Convey news of death to Patterson Karslake, care of Corn Exchange Bank, New York City. "Five-fifteen about.
"Monday, about eleven o'clock. No change. The heat is appalling. There is just a "Later. I was on the point of saying that there was just a mouthful of water left for each of us in our canteens when Estorijo and Idaho both at the same time cried out that they were moving in. It is true. They are within rifle range, but do not fire.
One of them rode in a wide circle from the rear to the flank, about ten minutes ago, conferred a moment with his fellow, then fell back to his old position. He wears some sort of red cloth or blanket. We reach no more water till day after to-morrow. But we have sufficient. Estorijo has been telling funny stories en route.
"This last rush was the nearest. I had started to say that though the heat-shimmer was bad, either Estorijo or myself wounded one of their ponies. We saw him stumble. "Another rush "Our ammunition "Only a few cartridges left. "The Red One like a whirlwind only fifty yards away. "We fire separately now as they sneak up under cover of our smoke. "We put the fire out. "I have killed the Spotted One.
He is unconscious; have used the last of the water to give him a drink. He does not seem "They continue to circle us. Their fire is incessant, but very wild. So long as I keep my head down I am comparatively safe. "Later. I think Idaho is dying. It seems he was hit a second time when he stood up to fire. Estorijo is still breathing; I thought him dead long since. "Four-ten. Idaho gone.
"They came in sight early this morning just after we had had breakfast and had broken camp. The four of us 'Bunt, 'Idaho, Estorijo and myself were jogging on to the southward and had just come up out of the dry bed of some water-hole the alkali was white as snow in the crevices when Idaho pointed them out to us, three to the rear, two on one side, one on the other and very far away two ahead.
His real name is James Monroe Herndon; his profession that of government scout. Notify Mrs. Herndon, Trinidad, New Mexico. "The writer is Arthur Staples Karslake, dark hair, height five feet eleven, body will be found near that of Herndon. "Luis Estorijo, Mexican "Later. Two more cartridges. "Five-thirty. Estorijo dead. "It is half-past five in the afternoon of April fifteenth.
Idaho believes the Red One fired as a signal. Estorijo is getting ready to take a shot at the One with the Feather. We have the ponies in a circle around us. It looks as if now at last this was the beginning of the real business. Later, twelve-thirty-five. Estorijo missed. Idaho will try with the Winchester as soon as the One with the Feather halts. He is galloping toward the Red One.
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