I reached in through the window and simply
said,
"Indians--depot on fire--have saved a set of instruments--will call you
later when I can fix a wire," and signed my name, "Bates."
My lungs were filled with smoke and felt like they had a million sharp
needles sticking in them, but thanks to my lucky stars, I was not
otherwise hurt. Everything appeared so quiet and still that I was dazed,
but presently I heard a low mumbling of voices out to the westwards. I
made my way thither and found the population (all that was left of it),
assembled. When I staggered up to a group of the men, they turned on me
like tigers, not knowing what kind of an animal I was. I recognized one
of them who was commonly known as "Full-House Charley," and weakly said,
"Don't shoot, Charley, it's Bates the night operator at the depot."
"Well! where the devil have you been all the time? When the depot was
burning some of us went over there, but you'd gone some place. We
couldn't save anything so we let 'er burn. Your side partner, the day
man, was killed and scalped."
It appeared that just as the fight was the hottest, three troops of
the --th U.
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