On the day following the one on which his party had encountered and
chastised the Tlamath Indians, Fremont started for the Valley of the
Sacramento. The expedition was progressing well, and was four days out
from this last camp; when, as two of the men, whose names were Maxwell
and Archambeau, were out hunting at a distance of about three miles on
one side of their friends, they were surprised at seeing one Indian,
on foot, approaching towards them.

The hunters, in order to do away with all suspicion, at once halted
and laid down their arms, to show the warrior that they were friendly
disposed. They thought it was best to have a "talk" with him, and
question him in regard to the country they were then in. As he showed
no symptoms of fear, but kept coming on, they supposed that he had
understood their actions; therefore, they paid but little attention to
him, until they saw him stop. Their curiosity was now excited to know
his intentions; and, as they watched his movements, they saw him take
some young crows from his quiver, and, after untying the string that
held them, he concealed them to his satisfaction in the grass, and
again moved forward; but, while doing so, he was busy arranging his
weapons for immediate use. The white men were not astonished at this,
for they concluded that he was only preparing himself against danger.
The Indian slowly advanced to a spot that was within fifteen yards of
the hunters, when he again stopped, and commenced shooting his arrows
at them. At first they dodged about, and made signs for him to desist,
as they were friends; but, to their admonitions he paid not the least
attention. Several of the missiles had come near causing them bodily
injury. After a time, forbearance ceased to be a virtue. Raising his
rifle, one of the men fired; when, to use mountaineer parlance, the
Indian "went under."