The deer did not change its position as I quietly rode by
and out of sight behind the hill. There I dismounted and stalked
the quarry on foot, cautiously making my way up the side of the
hill to a point where I would be within easy shooting distance.
As I stood up to locate the deer it jumped to its feet and was
ready to make off, but before it could start a shot from my
Winchester put a bullet through its head, and it scarcely moved
after it fell. The deer was in good condition and replenished
our depleted ranch larder with some choice venison steaks. The
head, also, was a fine one the horns being just out of velvet and
each antler five pointed, was saved and mounted.
The shot and my lusty halloo soon brought my cowboy friend to the
spot. Together we eviscerated the animal and prepared to pack it
to camp on my horse. As we were lifting it upon his back the
bronco gave a vicious kick which hit me in the left knee and
knocked me down. The blow, though severe, glanced off so that no
bone was broken. What made the horse kick was a mystery as he
was considered safe and had carried deer on other occasions. But
a bronco, like a mule, is never altogether reliable, particularly
as to the action of its heels. With some delay in getting
started and in somewhat of a demoralized condition we mounted and
rode home.
Soon after the accident I had a chill which was followed by a
fever and there was much pain and swelling in the knee that was
hit. A ranch house, if it happens to be a "stag camp" as ours
was, is a cheerless place in which to be sick, but everything
considered, I was fortunate in that it was not worse. By the
liberal use of hot water and such other simples as the place
afforded I was soon better; but not until after several months'
treatment at home did the injured knee fully recover its normal
condition.
The excitement of running cattle or hunting game on the open
range in those days was mild in comparison to the panicky feeling
which prevailed during every Indian outbreak. The experience of
many years had taught the people of Arizona what to expect at
such a time and the utter diabolical wickedness of the Apaches
when out on the warpath. During the early eighties many such
raids occurred which were accompanied by all the usual horrors of
brutality and outrage of which the Apaches are capable.
When it became known in the fall of 1885 that Geronimo was again
off the reservation and out on another one of his bloody raids
the people became panic-stricken.
