When he fired
the bullet threw up the sand not a yard from his feet, and then he fell
on his face across the body of the horse. During the charge I fired as
fast as I could, but evidently to no purpose. They must have thought
that Idaho was dead, for as soon as they saw him getting to his feet
they sheered their horses off and went by on either side of us. I have
made Idaho comfortable. He is unconscious; have used the last of the
water to give him a drink. He does not seem----
"They continue to circle us. Their fire is incessant, but very wild. So
long as I keep my head down I am comparatively safe.
"Later.--I think Idaho is dying. It seems he was hit a second time when
he stood up to fire. Estorijo is still breathing; I thought him dead
long since.
"Four-ten.--Idaho gone. Twelve cartridges left. Am all alone now.
"Four-twenty-five.--I am very weak." [_Karslake was evidently wounded
sometime between ten and twenty-five minutes after four. His notes make
no mention of the fact_.] "Eight cartridges remain. I leave my library
to my brother, Walter Patterson Karslake; all my personal effects to my
parents, except the picture of myself taken in Baltimore in 1897, which
I direct to be" [_the next lines are undecipherable_] "...at
Washington, D. C., as soon as possible. I appoint as my literary--
"Four forty-five.--Seven cartridges. Very weak and unable to move lower
part of my body.
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