The Red-Blooded Heroes of the Frontier | Page 6

was so great, it was agreed they must have water at any cost.
They knew the Indians were unlikely to attempt another attack until
dawn, and so they decided to attempt to reach the stream shortly after
midnight. Although it was scarcely more than fifteen hundred yards,
that was a terrible journey for Loving. Compelled to crawl noiselessly
to avoid alarming the enemy, Jim could give him little assistance. But
going slowly, dragging his shattered leg behind him without a murmur,
Loving followed Jim, and they reached the river safely and drank.
It was now necessary to find new cover. For long distances the banks of
the Pecos are nearly perpendicular, and ten to twenty feet high. At
flood the swift current cuts deep holes and recesses in these banks.
Prowling along the margin of the stream, Jim found one of these
recesses wide enough to hold them both, and deep enough to afford
good defence against a fire from the opposite shore, Above them the
bank rose straight for twenty feet. Thus they could not be attacked by
firing, except from the other side of the river; and while the stream was
only thirty yards wide, the opposite bank afforded no shelter for the
enemy.
In the gray dawn the Indians crept in on the first entrenchment and
sprang inside the breastworks with upraised weapons, only to find it
deserted. However, the trail of Loving's dragging leg was plain, and
they followed it down to the river, where, coming unexpectedly in
range of the new defences, two of their number were killed outright.
Throughout the day they exhausted every device of their savage
cunning to dislodge Loving, but without avail. They soon found the
opposite bank too exposed and dangerous for attack from that direction.
Burning brush dropped from above failed to lodge before the recess, as
they had hoped it might. The position seemed impregnable, so they
surrounded the spot, resolved to starve the white men out.
Loving and Jim had leisure to discuss their situation. Loving was losing
strength from his wound. They had no food but a little raw bacon.
Without relief they must inevitably be starved out. It was therefore

agreed that Jim should try to reach Goodnight and bring aid. It was a
forlorn hope, but the only one. The herds must be at least sixty miles
back down the trail. Jim was reluctant to leave, but Loving urged it as
the only chance.
As soon as it was dark, Jim removed all but his under-clothing, hung
his boots round his neck, slid softly into the river, and floated and
swam down stream for more than a quarter of a mile. Then he crept out
on the bank. On the way he had lost his boots, which more than
doubled the difficulty and hardship of his journey. Still he struck
bravely out for the trail, through cactus and over stones. He travelled all
night, rested a few hours in the morning, resumed his tramp in the
afternoon, and continued it well-nigh through the second night.
Near morning, famished and weak, with feet raw and bleeding, totally
unable to go farther, Jim lay down in a rocky recess two or three
hundred yards from the trail, and went to sleep.
It chanced that the two outfits lay camped scarcely a mile farther down
the trail. At dawn they were again en route, and both passed Jim
without rousing or discovering him. Then a strange thing happened.
Three or four horses had strayed away from the "horse wrangler"
during the night, and Jim's brother Bill was left behind to hunt them.
Circling for their trail, he found and followed it, followed it until it
brought him almost upon the figure of a prostrate man, nearly naked,
bleeding, and apparently dead. Dismounting and turning the body over,
Bill was startled to find it to be his brother Jim. With great difficulty
Jim was roused; he was then helped to mount Bill's horse, and hurried
on to overtake the outfit. Coffee and a little food revived him so that he
could tell his story.
Neither danger nor property was considered where help was needed, in
those days. Goodnight instantly ordered six men to shift saddles to their
strongest horses, left the outfits to get on as best they might, and
spurred away with his little band to his partner's relief.
Loving had a close call the day after Jim left. The Comanches had other
plans to carry out, or perhaps they were grown impatient. In any event,

they crossed the river and raced up and down the bluff, firing beneath
their horses' necks. It was a miracle Loving was not hit; but, lying low
and watching his chance, he returned such a destructive fire that the
Comanches were forced to