George Cowan

Shots rang out.

It was the bad boys killing some of the white men.

I was riding beside Albert Oldham a little ways behind George and Emma. The Indians were all around us. I saw two Indians on horses coming down in front of us at a full gallop. They stopped suddenly and fired, and George jumped or fell from his horse. At the same moment Albert Oldham dropped from his horse, being shot by an Indian a little ways above and behind us. Emma jumped from her horse and ran to Cowan, and the Indians made a rush and surrounded her and George. I sprang from my horse and started to run to where George was lying, with Emma kneeling by his side, but I was so terrified I could scarcely walk. I was benumbed all over, and the froth from my mouth was like paste. I thought certainly that I was soon going to be killed. I spoke to George and asked him where he was hurt, and he replied that his leg was all shattered.

Emma was kneeling with her arms around Cowan's neck, when an Indian came up, and, catching her by the hand, tried to pull her away He pulled one of her arms from his neck, and then another Indian, seeing that Cowan's head was exposed, put a pistol to his face and shot him in the forehead. Emma fainted, then, and I jumped and screamed, and ran in and out among the Indians and horses. The Indians ran after me, and one caught me by the throat and choked me. I bore the prints of his fingers on my neck for two weeks. As he loosened his hold I had the satisfaction of biting his fingers.

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