men, of whom there were two hundred and fifty, joining, a circle was
formed, which ‘traveled’ around with the same shuffling step already
described. The drummers, and other musicians (twenty or twenty-five
of them) marched in a contrary direction, to, and from, and around
the fire, inside the large ring; for, at the distance kept by the
outsiders, the area was one hundred and fifty feet in diameter. There
Appolonian emulators chanted the great deeds performed by the Cheyenne
warriors; as they ended, the dying strain was caught up by the hundreds
of the outside circle, who, in fast-swelling, loud tones, poured out
the burden of their song. At this juncture, the march was quickened,
the scalps of the slain were borne aloft and shaken in wild delight,
and shrill warnotes, rising above the furious din, accelerated the
pulsation, and strung high the nerves. Timeworn shields, careering in
mad holders’ hands, clashed, and keen lances, once reeking in Pawnee
blood, clanged. Braves seized one another with an iron grip, in the
heat of excitement, or chimed more tenderly in the chant, enveloped
in the same robe with some gentle maiden as they approvingly stepped
through one of their own original polkas.
“Thirty of the chiefs, and principal men were ranged by the pile of
blazing logs. By their invitation, I sat down near ‘Old Bark,’ and
smoked death and its concomitant train of evils to those audacious
tribes, who doubt the courage or supremacy of the brave, the great, and
powerful Cheyenne nation.
“The pipe was lavishly decorated with beaver strips, beads, and
porcupine; the mixture of tobacco and bark, was prepared with unusual
care for this, their grand gala night.”
[Illustration: A CHEYENNE INDIAN CAMP]
It would be interesting to follow Garrard through his life in the
Cheyenne camp, but space forbids this. He was called away from this
interesting life by the news which came from the West of the death
at the hands of the Pueblos of Governor Charles Bent, in New Mexico.
Fugitives who had escaped the attack had come to Fort William and told
what had happened, and soon after, William Bent, with twenty-three men,
started for the Mexican settlements. They passed far to the southward
of Pike’s Peak, met a few United States soldiers and volunteers,
and toward the middle of February were joined by Sublette, with two
companions, who reported forty thousand men enlisted for Mexico.
Toiling through the mountains in true winter weather, the party marched
on until they came to one of Bent’s ranches and at last reached Taos.
From this on, the author’s route was much among the Mexicans of the
various towns until, at last, turning his face eastward, he came back
across the mountains, and once more found himself in the Cheyenne
village, whence soon afterward he set out for the East.
II
AN ATTACK BY COMANCHES
Although Garrard had seen plenty of Indians, and had been present at
more than one skirmish, he had not yet taken part in a real Indian
fight, though he had long wished to do so. On the way back this desire
was gratified, and the boy, with his eighteenth birthday only just
behind him, paints in one of the last chapters of his book a spirited
picture of the alarms, surprises, narrow escapes, and swift changes
of an Indian raid on the moving wagon-trains near the Pawnee Fork of
the Arkansas. His trip on the plains ended in an exciting fighting
climax, and we can fancy that it gave the boy material for talk and for
delightful recollections during the rest of his life.
“We were started early. The wagons traveled in double file, so that
in case of an attack from the leagued Camanches and Arapahoes, whose
propinquity was as well-known as dreaded, they would not be strung
along too great a space. The caballada was driven and kept between
these two lines of the train.
“Late in the afternoon, when the sun was fast sinking to its
golden-hued, silver-flecked bed, and the drooping ears of the flagging
mules betokened weariness, objects were seen directly before us in the
trace. Keen-eyed Barton, in calling our attention to them, uttered his
opinion in the single significant word, ‘_Injuns!_’
“‘Indians, say you, Barton?’ inquired the colonel, looking in the
direction pointed, ‘Indians? Upon my word I believe so. Come on,
we’ll reconnoiter, and say nothing to the train until the fact is
ascertained--indeed, I hope not’--and, striking spurs into his large
brown California mule, he loped forward, followed by some eight or ten
of us. We soon ascertained, beyond a doubt, enough danger to lessen
our party to five--the colonel, Barton, Brown, McCarty, and myself,
who kept on until within less than a quarter of a mile of the large
party of mounted warriors. That portion of our men who had put back
with all possible speed, set the train in a ferment by their prodigious
narrations.
“In front, on the opposite rise of ground, was a sight to make the
stoutest heart among us quail; for the Indian force, displayed within
long rifleshot, numbered, according to our unanimous estimate, four
hundred strong, glittering with gay pennons, bright lanceheads, and
savage ornaments. Young braves rode their plunging barbs restlessly
to and fro. The shrill and startling notes of preparation reached us
but too plainly; and we hurried back to await for the expected charge.
The train was in almost inextricable confusion, but the colonel soon
restored order. The wagons, mules, and men advanced to the brow of the
hill and made a corâl: that is, the two front wagons came together,
and the inside forewheels of those following, were made to touch the
outside hindwheel of the one immediately in front. In this manner,
a secure but irregular oval pen was formed, into which were driven
the oxen, the caballada, and the riding animals, thus leaving the men
free to devote their whole attention to the enemy. There was little
noise, but much alacrity, and considerable trepidation among the poor
teamsters, thirty of whom were without firearms. We had scarcely
finished our preparations for defense, when the Indians, with poised
lances, furiously charged upon us. For some time they circled around
our corâl with guns unslung, and white shields continually shifted
to protect their bodies. At last they drew rein; and, on each side
of our party, commenced a lively demonstration, sending their balls
singing through the air; some overhead, some perforating the wagons and
wagon-sheets, and some knocking the fur from our hide-bound oxen.
“We were drawn up in line outside, fronting the main body, two hundred
and fifty yards distant. We gave them several rounds, one-half of us
reserving fire until the discharged arms were reloaded. The Indians
scattered after our rather ineffectual volleys, and their position
became more menacing, their war-whoops more dissonant and savage than
before. We posted ourselves about the wagons, each man to his liking.
Lieutenant Brown, with five men, took a position on a knoll fifty yards
from us, and kept up an incessant firing, which was warmly reciprocated
by the foe. It became exciting; the warriors galloping furiously, bent
down, now on this side, now on that, until nothing of their person
could be seen but the heel and part of the leg thrown across the cantle
of the saddle. From under the horse’s neck would issue a smoke-cloud,
as we heard the sighing of the ball as it cut its way overhead, or
knocked the dust from the dry plain. Sharply-sighted rifles gave ready
answer; cheers rang out from our exhilarated party, and unfortunate
oxen, stung by furrowing bullets from lumbering escopetas, plunged and
horned each other from side to side of the crowded corâl.
“A California Indian, belonging to Colonel Russell, ran, with gun in
hand, far out toward the foiled enemy, making the Indian sign of insult
and derision; and, in Spanish, abusing them most scandalously. He came
back before long, in no small hurry, with three of the outraged foe at
his heels, who were in return repelled at fullest speed by us. A ball
overhead, causes even the coolest man to dodge involuntarily, however
surely he may know that the whistling bullet has already missed him.
This is especially the case in a desultory scattered fire. Many a
hearty laugh was had at the ludicrous positions into which we found
ourselves thrown by these badly-aimed missiles.
“The Indians detained us an hour, and then, relinquishing their _coup_
attempts, moved off toward the west, to our extreme gratification.
Had the charge been made before the corâl was formed, they would have
scalped the whole party, for our force was small, and composed for
the most part of green teamsters. Yoking up, we reached camp, by the
river’s side, hot, thirsty, and irritated at our meager ‘satisfaction.’
“June 19th. The train proceeded with much caution. Indian spies watched
us in the distance, hanging like wolves on our rear; the gleam of
their lances was often seen among the sandbuttes beyond the river.
They were evidently intending to make another descent, on the first
fair opportunity. Our flankguards were on the alert, and the day ended
without a conflict. The country was sparsely wooded with cottonwood and
boxelder, and _bois de vaches_ supersedes substantial fuel for several
days travel through the region of the ‘Coon Creeks.’
“Our animals were saddled, hitched, and the train in motion, after an
early cup of coffee. The air brisk and cool, and the sky clear, gave
promise of a fair day’s travel; and even uneasy fears of Camanche
attack were not sufficient to check our joyous feelings. It was the
duty of the horsemen to push forward at mealtime, select a camp, and
wait for the arrival of the train. Near noon, we entered a large
‘bottom,’ horseshoe-shaped, around which the river made a circuit of
three miles or more. The wagons kept the trace across the neck, and a
party, composed of Colonel Russell, Mr. Coolidge, and myself, on mules,
and three others, on horses, followed the course of the stream to
gather fuel. This I laid across the pommel of the colonel’s saddle, as
I collected it, and he was already loaded with sufficient to boil our
cup of coffee and fry the slice of pork for which we were well prepared
by several hours’ fasting, when, all at once, the three horsemen strung
out in a straight shoot for the wagons, without a word to us. ‘Hallo!’
shouted we, ‘what’s your hurry?’ The fast receding men said nothing,
but pointed to the southwest, in which direction there approached, at
full speed, a war-party of about forty, endeavoring to cut us off from
the wagons which were then corâlling in great confusion. Dusky figures,
and light puffs of smoke, showed faintly in the distance, the attack on
the straggling train. No time was to be lost in rejoining our company,
and back we spurred, to the tune of Camanche take the hindmost. The
lines of the Indian attack and our return were convergent, and it was
a mere question of speed whether we lost our top-knots or gained the
corâl. The pursuers already had the advantage. The colonel threw down
his wood, and I replaced the old cap on my rifle with a fresh one,
determined that one should ‘go under’ before my ‘hair was lifted.’ I
led the retreat, mounted on a small iron-gray mule--a native of the
California savannas--who bounded most gallantly--for a mule--over the
prairie. Colonel Russell followed in my wake, but Coolidge was still
behind. Our pace seemed snail-like, and we jammed our rifle butts into
the flanks of the poor beasts most unmercifully.
“‘Come on, Coolidge,’ shouted the Colonel to the frightened trader,
‘come on, we’ll soon be safe.’
“‘Yes, yes! but this fool animal isn’t worth a cuss for running,’
and with that, he gave the poor mule another ‘_chug_’ with his sharp
riflestock. No exertion was spared, no incentive was neglected, to
urge our dull beasts along; and though there was but small chance for
escaping a lance thrust, we answered loudly their yells. When within
three hundred yards of the wagon, I looked back, and saw Coolidge far
behind, with several Indians close upon him, the foremost brandishing
his lance. I shouted to the colonel that Coolidge was gone, and
immediately we jerked our animals around. The colonel aimed hastily,
fired, and galloped back to the corâl. I spurred on to cover Coolidge’s
retreat, who came lumbering with the _owgh-owgh-he-a_ of his pursuers
close to his ear. When I drew rein, and placed it between my teeth,
my mule, contrary to all precedent and custom, stood stock still,
while I took steady aim, at the nearest savage, who, flying along with
eager look and harsh yell, was striving to make a sure blow. His band
followed on his track, at distances various as their horses’ speed.
Coolidge, with eyes staring with fright, bent close down to his mule’s
neck. When I first drew bead on the Camanche’s painted hide, he was
approaching in a quartering direction to my right; as the gentleman was
rather fleshy about the umbilical region, and tender withal, to make a
sure shot, I kept the silver bead at my rifle point, at that particular
spot, until he had passed to the left. With the report the yellow
devil’s legs twitched in pain (I was so close to him that I could see
even his features with disagreeable distinctness), and throwing up his
horse’s head, he galloped off to the river. Those who watched, say that
he did not come back.
“Reloading at full speed, Coolidge and I hurried into the corâl, which
was just being closed. We dismounted, merely giving each other a look
of congratulation; for the rattling of the guns, and the warwhoops
and yells of the men, drowned our voices, and left us nothing to do
but fight. For that work, with a good will, and quite systematically,
we prepared ourselves. The Colonel’s party were firing with much
earnestness. A short distance of the place where we were gathering
wood, a large force was descending the sand buttes, glittering with
bright gun-barrels, swords, and lances--a well-armed band. They crossed
the river in a trot, which was quickened into a charge as they reached
the bank, and, at one hundred and fifty yards distance, they opened
their fire. For a few minutes, rifles, warwhoops, escopetas, hurrahs,
contended in discordant strife--a tumult of wild sounds. But they could
not stand our well-directed fire, and fell back. They left no dead on
the field. This is never done, and the only token of the effect of our
balls was, by the wounded precipitately leaving the immediate scene of
action. To give straightout evidence of injury, by show of pain, or
otherwise, is a breach of their code of honor--an infringement severely
rebuked by the taunts of the tribe--a weakness not soon forgotten or
forgiven by the old chiefs, whose duty and care it is, to sustain, by
precept and example, the national bravery and hardihood. They consider
not the death, merely, of an enemy, a victory--a _coup_ must be
counted. On a horse-stealing expedition, this is a horse; in battle, a
scalp; and the trophies must be shown at home, before the warrior is
allowed to decorate his robe with the black hand. When an Indian falls
too far gone to rescue himself, his friends rush up and bear him off
between their fleet steeds.
“They rallied and again circled around us, with their white shields
protecting their bodies, tossing their spears, and showing off
their beautiful horses, and their own graceful persons, to the best
advantage. Their intention was to make a charge on the first vulnerable
point, but we, being too well guarded, they, after many feints, fell
back. I sat flat on the ground, my rifle resting on the spoke of a
wagon-wheel--firing as often as an Indian came within range--and,
when the painted, warwhooping target _vamosed_ for safer quarters, at
the crack of the gun, certainly no other than a smile of satisfaction
lit up my face. If none fell outright, it was not that any qualms of
conscience prevented my taking cool and sure aim, at those who, after
chasing a mile, and nearly scaring the life out of us, were then
keeping us penned in the hot sun without water.
“One Indian, who, from his distinguished, though scanty, dress, was
a ‘brave’ of the first order, came close into our lines, throwing
himself behind the body of his horse, so as to show nothing but a hand
and foot; but, as he raised himself, one of the colonel’s men cut, with
his rifleball, a neatly-dressed skin, that hung at his neck, which we
picked up after the fight, as our only trophy. They now tossed their
balls into us from a long distance, by elevating their pieces, being
convinced that our corâl could not be broken without great loss of
life. Two teamsters, about this time getting scared at the whistling
missiles, crept, for security, into an empty wagon. They had scarcely
made themselves comfortable, when a ball, crashing through both sides
of their defense, buried itself in the side of a poor steer. The
terrified Neds tumbled out, greeted by the roars of the men around.
“‘That’s what you get for your cussed cowardice,’ drawled out one of
the fellows.
“‘Well, I’ll be darned, if that wasn’t a grazer,’ ejaculated Charley
McCarty. ‘Feel if you haven’t got a hole in your dogskin--I’d hate to
be as bad scared as you, by thunder!’
“We were detained upward of two hours. Our fatigued and heated oxen
were nearly dropping with thirst. The savages filed slowly up the sand
buttes on the other side of the river, and we proceeded to camp, each
man talking of his own shots.
“June 22. We expected to reach the Pawnee Fork during the morning’s
march, and as there were bluffs near the camp, and several streams
intervening, thick-set with timber, favorable for ambuscade, the
advance guard preceded the train a quarter of a mile. We were on the
alert, our eyes searching every object, our guns ready to fire, as with
bridle-rein firmly grasped, we galloped along in the bright summer
morning. Our exposed position, and the continual expectation of the
Camanche yell, kept us excited wildly enough, although no foe delayed
our march. By noontide, the saddles were off--the wagons corâlled,
and the tent pitched once more. Among the remains of the old camps,
I found the skull and skeleton of an Indian. The sinews, well gnawed
by the wolves, were not yet dry, and the skin and hair still graced
the head, which, passed from hand to hand by the curious, was, at
last, tossed into the turbulent waters of the flooded Pawnee Fork. The
Camanche, whose head this was, had been killed a few days previous, in
an encounter with traders. One or two others ‘went under’ at the same
time, but their bodies had been rescued.
“On the opposite side of the creek, a train from the States was stopped
like ourselves by the risen waters. I accompanied some of our men over
to it. We swam across, holding our shirts and buckskins in one hand.
At the camp we found a government train, some traders’ wagons, any
quantity of gaping men, and a _whitewoman_--a real whitewoman! and we
gazed upon her with great satisfaction and curiosity. After gleaning
the ‘news,’ we returned in a full run to the creek, and, crossing as
before, retailed our scanty information.
“The next day was beautiful, and we waited impatiently for the
slow-receding stream to become fordable. The men scattered on both
banks, the grazing cattle and caballadas, with the white wagon-tops of
the three camps, made a serene and lovely scene. About ten o’clock,
an immense drove of buffalo was seen running in the prairie to the
southwest. Some of our party set off in pursuit on their horses, while
twenty or thirty of us ran down to intercept them as they crossed the
creek. A faint cry of Indians! Indians! Indians! from the camp reached
those nearest the muleguard, and by them it was repeated and wafted on
to us, who, hardly knowing whether to _cache_ in the undergrowth, or
to run for camp, stood for a moment undecided, and then ‘streaked it’
for the wagons. Turning our eyes to the furthest train on the hill,
we perceived it in great commotion. Fifty Indians were charging among
them with their lances, recoiling from the light volumes of smoke at
times, and again swallowing up the little force with their numbers and
shutting them in from our sight. Others were stampeding the oxen. After
a conflict of several minutes, they retreated, bearing with them a dead
warrior, behind the bluff hill which jutted boldly from the opposite
shore.
“Our teamsters, during the fight, looked on with mouth and eyes open,
in wonderment, regardless of their own cattle, still feeding in a
deeply-fringed savanna. Tall cottonwood timber, overgrown with the
luxuriant vine and thick-set underbrush, impervious to the eye,
confined our stock to this secluded spot. The creek, half encircling
it with a grand sweep, added its protection. A lightguard of three
men watched the grazing herd. We were still congratulating ourselves
on our escape, when from the guard, we heard the cry that the Indians
were swimming the creek and driving off the oxen. More than half the
camp started in full run to protect them. As we rounded the angle of
the stream, yells were heard, then the dusky forms of a few Indians
were seen; and, by the time we were within long gunshot, some sixty
were among the luckless herd, goading them into a lumbering gallop.
The colonel’s party led the van, and would have saved the cattle,
had the teamsters supported them. But, they hanging back, we told
them that their oxen might go to ----. Hurrying back to camp, Colonel
Russell mounted his force and went in pursuit; but, in vain, we tried
to repair the loss that negligence and cowardice had effected. Our
ride rescued only thirty oxen, and gave us a view of the retreating
savages, thrusting their lances into the remainder. In that unfortunate
half hour, the train lost one hundred and sixty steers; which, at the
purchase price--one half less than they were worth on the prairie--was
a damage of four thousand dollars, together with a total loss of from
five to seven thousand more, in the necessary abandonment of the
wagons--the natural result of sending on the plains a set of green
men, commanded by as raw a director, poorly and scantily armed with
government blunderbusses, and meagerly furnished with from eight to
fifteen rounds of cartridges each, which were often wasted on game or
targets long before reaching the Indian country. And this was not the
only instance of miserable economy, as the official reports show.
“Our train was in a sad condition; half a yoke to each wagon. Mr.
Coolidge was really to be pitied--nearly four hundred miles from the
States, with but two oxen to haul four large wagons, heavily loaded
with robes and peltries. The colonel carried a few packs (as many as
he was able); he bargained with one of the outward-bound trains to
take some back to Mann’s Fort, and the rest he câched. The government
people crowded their ‘kits’ and provision in three wagons; and, toward
evening of the next day, we crossed the creek which had now subsided,
leaving twenty-six wagons and any amount of extras, to the Indians
and the wolves. Toward sundown, as we were hitching up to travel in
the night, a party of dragoons, filing down the hill, made camp near.
Lieutenant J. Love, commanding, was informed of the outrage, and
promised satisfaction. We stopped a moment at the train, with which the
first fight had occurred. One poor fellow, named Smith, from Van Buren
County, Missouri, had been lanced seven times through the neck and
breast. He killed the Indian that fell, while on his back and already
wounded.”
Garrard’s trip on the plains ended in true storybook fashion, and, we
can fancy, gave the boy material for reminiscence and story-telling
for many a long year.
This book, and many another of the period, mention constantly, and
in most familiar fashion, names that to old-timers in the West are
familiar as household words--men whom, in their old age, we ourselves
perhaps knew; men with whose sons and daughters we have lived as
contemporaries. But the generation that knew these old-timers, Carson,
Bridger, Jack Robinson, Jim and John Baker, Bent, St. Vrain, Sublette,
Hugh Monroe, Ike Edwards, Bill Gary, Symonds, Beaubien, La Jeunesse,
Rowland, and a hundred others whose names could be given, has for the
most part passed away.
These names belong to the history of the early West. Soon they will be
historic only, for those who have known them will also have crossed the
Great Divide, and there will be none who can recall their personality.
THE SOLITARY HUNTER
I
PRAIRIE TRAVEL