"Our house was burned. My father was tomahawked and scalped before our eyes, and my mother, my sister (who was older than I), and myself were carried into captivity. I was fortunate enough to escape. I returned and organized a pursuing party, but our efforts were fruitless, and a few months later I learned from a half-breed that death had relieved the sufferings of my mother and sister. That was twenty years ago. I was fifteen years old then, and from that day to this I have been on the trail of that tribe. I boast of nothing, but each year I feel better satisfied with my work. I hope that, in time, I may feel content to return East and engage in some lawful and more congenial pursuit."
At that instant a deer bounded up out of the tall grass a hundred yards ahead and went prancing away to the left. Frank caught his rifle from the sling at his saddle bow and sent a bullet through its head.
Early the next morning the hunters came upon fresh buffalo signs, and in the afternoon a few stragglers were seen. One was killed in the evening, and on the creek where they camped that night fresh Indian camp signs were found. A small herd of buffalo came to the creek to drink, a mile below, just after sundown, and various facts indicated that they were near the main herd. All through the next day they were in sight of small bands, and several hunting parties were sighted, some white and some red. The feed was getting scarce, owing to its having been eaten down by the game, and at two o'clock the party camped on Willow creek, a small tributary of the Brazos river. The main herd was yet about ten miles away, but the hunters could not consistently go any nearer for a permanent camp, and decided to make it here. Two white hunters visited them in the evening, and told them that a party of ten Comanches were camped on Turtle creek seven miles further west. At this intelligence Frank's face darkened and his eye gleamed, but he said nothing. Soon after dark, however, he was missing, and did not turn up again till near noon the next day. He had a different horse from the one he rode away; not so good a one, it is true, and there were two bullet holes in his coat. He was reticent and uncommunicative as to where he had been, but wore a very pleased expression on his countenance, and was occasionally seen to smile when not talking with anyone.