The fight itself was of short duration. Surprised in their stronghold, the Indians sprang to their arms at the warning cry of one haplessly wakeful sentinel. It was his death-song, too, for Sergeant Bates and the veteran corporal at his side, foremost with the guides, drove their almost simultaneous shots at the dark figure as it suddenly leaped between them and the sky, tumbling the sentry in his tracks, and then, before the startled band could spring to the shelter of surrounding bowlders, the soldiers with one volley and a ringing cheer came dashing in among them. Some warriors in their panic leaped from the ledge and were dashed upon the rocks below; some, like mountain-goats, went bounding down the eastward side and disappeared among the straggling timber; some, crouching behind the bowlders, fought desperately, until downed by carbine butt or bullet. Some few wailing squaws knelt beside their slain, sure that the white soldiers would not knowingly harm them; while others, like frightened doe, darted away into the shelter of rock or stunted pine. One little Indian boy sat straight up from a sound sleep, rubbing his baby eyes, and yelling with terror. Another little scamp, with snapping black eyes, picked up a gun and pulled trigger like a man, and then lay sprawling on his back, rubbing a damaged shoulder, and kicking almost as hard as the old musket. And then, while some soldiers went on under a boy Lieutenant in charge of the fleeing Indians, others, with their short-winded Captain, counted up the Indian losses and their own, and gave their attention to the wounded; and all of a sudden there went up a shout from Sergeant Bates, who was peering over the edge of a shelf of rock.
"Here's more of 'em, sir, running down this way!" followed by a bang from his carbine and a yell from below, and men who reached his side were just in time to see a brace of squaws, dragging two or three youngsters by the hand, darting into the bushes, while their protecting warriors defiantly faced their assailants, fired a shot or two, and then went plunging after. "I know that Indian," almost screamed old Bates. "It's Coyote himself!"
"After 'em, then!" was the order, and away went every man.