BREAKING UP OF THE MISSOURI.
The day of the final breaking up of the ice in the Missouri was one
of great excitement to us. The roar and crash of the ice-fields could
be heard a great distance. The sound of the tremendous report was the
signal for the whole garrison to go out on the hill near the infantry
post and watch the grand sight. Just above us was a bend in the river,
and around this curve great floes of ice rushed, heaping up in huge
masses as they swept down the furious current. All the lowlands that
lay between Bismarck and the river were inundated, and the shore far
in covered with blocks of ice that the force of the water had thrown
there. Just across the river from us was a wretched little collection
of huts, occupied by outlaws, into which the soldiers were decoyed
to drink and gamble. The law forbidding liquor to be sold on the
reservation was so strict that whiskey venders did not dare set foot on
the Government land. The reservation was too large to permit them to
place themselves on its other boundaries; they would have been at such
a distance from the post that it would not have been worth while. Just
on the water’s edge opposite, these human fiends had perched to watch
and entice the enlisted men. Over their rude cabins they had painted
elaborate and romantically expressed signs. In the midst of bleak
surroundings rose an untidy canvas-covered cabin, called “My Lady’s
Bower,” or over the door of a rough log-hut was a sign of the “Dew Drop
Inn” (Do drop in).
These shanties were placed on a little rise of ground, with a
precautionary thought of the usual spring floods. The day of the first
ice-breaking we saw the water rise to such a height that cabin after
cabin was abandoned. The occupants dragged their property as best they
could to the little rise where one or two, more cautious than the rest,
had built. On this narrow neck of land huddled together the whole of
the group, in desperate peril. No one on our side of the river could
help them, for the water was the maddest of whirlpools, while on the
other side the overflow had made a great lake, cutting them off from
Bismarck. As we watched them scrambling on the little knoll, like
drowning men clinging to the upturned keel of a boat, we suffered real
distress at our powerlessness to help them. The company commanders,
remembering how they had been the cause of the demoralization of some
of their best soldiers, openly avowed at first their relief that the
whole wretched lot were about to drown; but as the peril increased, not
one of the officers’ hearts remained unsoftened. They forgot what an
utterly abandoned, lawless company it was, and wished that some means
might be found by which they could be saved.
We women had discovered through the field-glasses a few of our own
sex among them, and were alarmed at their danger; for no matter what
they were, the helplessness of women at such a time makes one forget
everything, save that their lives hang in the balance. At last one of
them stepped into the only small boat they had been able to retain,
and standing bravely at the side of the one man at the bow, they were
swept down the river out of sight among the gorge of ice-blocks and
never again heard from. It was too exhausting watching these imperilled
beings, knowing how incapable we were of helping them, and we went back
to our quarters to spend hours of suspense. We could not set ourselves
about doing anything while the lives of human beings so near us were
in jeopardy. As day began to close, word came for our relief that the
water was subsiding; not, alas, until some of them had been borne to
their last home. Those that were left waded back to their huts, and,
unheeding the warning of that fearful day, began again their same
miserable existence.
Of all our happy days, the happiest had now come to us at Fort Lincoln.
I never knew more united married people than those of our regiment.
It will be easily understood that in the close companionship involved
in the intimate relationships of that life, either uncontrollable
hatred or increasing affection must ensue. If a desperate attack
of incompatibility set in out there, the climate, fine as it was,
simply had to disagree with the wife, for it was next to madness
for both of them if they did not escape from a life where almost
every hour is spent with each other. The wife had the privilege of
becoming the comrade of her husband in that isolated existence, and
the officers seemed to feel that every amusement was heightened if
shared by the other sex. That perpetual intimacy was a crucial test
of the genuineness of the affection. My husband used to quote a line
or two from one of Mrs. Stowe’s books that we had read together. The
new husband is asked why he knows that he loves his wife: “Because
she never tires me; she never makes me nervous.” He believed that if
husbands and wives bore that proof successfully as time advanced, they
might count on a happy future.
Life grew more enjoyable every day as we realized the blessings of our
home. When the winter was finally gone there was not an hour that we
would not have recalled. I have seen my husband with all the abandon
of a boy throw himself on a rug in front of the fire and enumerate his
blessings with real gratitude. Speaking of his regiment first, his
district (for he then had five posts under his command), the hunting,
his dogs and horses, and his own room, which was an unceasing delight,
he used to declare to me that he would not exchange places with any
one--not even a friend in civil life who stood at the head of his
profession as a journalist, who had wealth and youth, and who lived in
almost princely luxury. My husband used to tell me that he believed
he was the happiest man on earth, and I cannot help thinking that he
was. For with all the vicissitudes of those twelve eventful years, I
never knew him to have an hour’s depression. The presence of so many of
his family about him was an unceasing pleasure. There was an abiding
fondness between his brother, Colonel Tom, and himself. This brother
was scarcely more than a lad when he joined us. The general said to
some Eastern friends when he was in the States the last time, “To prove
to you how I value and admire my brother as a soldier, I think that he
should be the general and I the captain.”
Colonel Tom always lived with us, and the brothers played incessant
jokes on each other. Both of them honored and liked women extremely.
Colonel Tom used to pay visits of an unconscionable length to ladies
of the garrison, and no amount of teasing on his brother’s part would
induce him to shorten them. He never knew, when he started to go home
from these visits, but that he would find on the young lady’s door-mat
his trunk, portmanteau, and satchel--this as a little hint from the
general that he was overtaxing the lady’s patience. I used to think my
husband too severe with his brother, for in his anxiety not to show
favoritism he noticed the smallest misdemeanor. If, in visiting with
the young ladies in our parlor, he overstayed the hour he was due
at the stables or drill, the general’s eye noticed it, and perhaps
overlooked others in the room who were erring in the same manner. I
knew that a reprimand would be sent from the adjutant’s office in
the morning if I did not invent some way to warn the offender, so I
learned the bugle-call for stables, and hovering around Colonel Tom,
hummed it in his ear, which the voice of the charmer had dulled to the
trumpet-call. When the sound penetrated, he would make a plunge for his
hat and belt, and tear out of the house, thus escaping reproof.
When spring came again, it is impossible to express the joy I felt
that there was to be no summer campaign; and for the first time
in many years I saw the grass grow without a shudder. The general
began the improvement of the post with fresh energy, and from the
drill-ground came the click of the horses’ hoofs and the note of the
bugles repeating the commands of the officers. As soon as it was warm
enough, several charming girls came out from the States to our garrison
to visit us. They gave every one pleasure, and effectually turned the
heads of the young officers.
We had supposed that when travelling from the Gulf of Mexico almost to
the border of the British possessions, we could safely call ourselves
“West;” but we found that there was a post fifteen hundred miles beyond
us, on the Missouri River. The steamers were constantly taking officers
and their families from Bismarck into Montana. Sometimes the delay of
the boats in starting gave us the privilege of entertaining them. I
remember going down to bid good-bye to a family who had gone on board
a steamer at our landing. The officer was returning from an infantry
recruiting detail in the States. He had eight children and a dog.
These, with a lieutenant’s pay, constituted his riches. He disappeared
into a state-room and brought out the new baby, exhibiting it with as
much pride as if it had been the first-born! They told me afterwards
that during all that slow, wearisome journey of fifteen hundred miles,
on a boat that needs be seen to be appreciated, the mother was placid
and happy. There were no guards around the deck, so she tied the
children separately to the different articles of stationary furniture,
and let them play out to the limits of their tethers.
Almost our only exercise on summer evenings was walking on the
outskirts of the garrison surrounded by the dogs. It was dangerous to
go far, but we could walk with safety in the direction of the huts of
the Indian scouts. Their life always interested us, and by degrees they
became so accustomed to our presence that they went on with all their
occupations without heeding us.
There was a variety of articles among the litter tossed down in front
of these Indian quarters; lariats, saddles, and worn-out robes were
heaped about an arrangement for conveying their property from place to
place. The construction was simple, and rendered wheels unnecessary.
About midway on two long saplings, placed a short distance apart, is
a foundation of leather thongs. Upon this the effects belonging to an
Indian family are lashed. Two pole ends are attached to either side of
a rude harness on the pony, while the other two drag on the ground. In
following an Indian trail, the indentation made by the poles, as they
are pulled over the ground, traces the course of travel unmistakably.
Some of their boats lay upturned about the door. They were perfectly
round, like a great bowl, and composed of a wicker frame over which
buffalo hide was tightly drawn. The primitive shape and construction
dates back to the ancient Egyptians, and these boats were called
coracles in olden times. They seemed barely large enough to hold two
Indians, who were obliged to crouch down as they paddled their way with
short, awkward oars through the rapid current of the Missouri.
Bloody Knife was naturally mournful; his face still looked sad when he
put on the presents given him. He was a perfect child about gifts, and
the general studied to bring him something from the East that no other
Indian had.
He had proved himself such an invaluable scout to the general that they
often had long interviews. Seated on the grass, the dogs lying about
them, they talked over portions of the country that the general had
never seen, the scout drawing excellent maps in the sand with a pointed
stick. He was sometimes petulant, often moody, and it required the
utmost patience on my husband’s part to submit to his humors; but his
fidelity and cleverness made it worth while to yield to his tempers.
I was always interested in the one pretty squaw among them, called
Et-nah-wah-ruchta, which means Medicine Mother. Her husband was young,
and she was devoted to him. I have seen him lounging on the floor of
the hut while she made his toilet, combing and plaiting his hair,
cutting and oiling the bangs which were trimmed to cover his forehead,
and plucking the few scattered hairs from his chin--for they do not
consider it an honor to have a suspicion of a beard. She strapped on
his leggings, buckled his belt, and finally lighted his pipe. Once the
war bonnet of her lord had to be rearranged. He deigned to put it on
her head, readjusted the eagle feathers, and then gave it to her to
fasten them in securely. The faithful slave even used to accompany him
to his bath. Indians do bathe--at long intervals. I was not ambitious
to know if she actually performed the ablutions. However, I have seen
him, at a distance, running along the river bank on his return, his
wife waving a blanket behind him to keep off the mosquitoes!
If the Indians kill any game, they return home, order the squaws to
take the ponies and bring back what they have killed, and then throw
themselves down to sleep among the sprawling Indian babies, tailless
dogs, and general filth. The squaws do all the labor, and every skin is
tanned by their busy fingers. I never knew but one Indian who worked.
He was an object of interest to me, though he kept himself within the
gloom of the cabin, and skulked around the fire when he cooked. This
was the occupation forced upon him by the others. He had lacked the
courage to endure the torture of the sun-dance; for when strips of
flexible wood had been drawn through the gashes in his back, and he was
hung up by these, the poor creature had fainted. On reviving he begged
to be cut down, and ever after was an object of scorn. He was condemned
to wear squaw’s clothing from that time on. They mocked and taunted
him, and he led as separate an existence as if he were in a desert
alone. The squaws disdained to notice him, except to heap work upon his
already burdened shoulders.
Once my husband and I, in walking, came suddenly upon a queer little
mound, that we concluded we would observe at a distance. An Indian
was seen carrying buckets and creeping with difficulty into the small
aperture. It was about six feet in diameter, and proved to be a kind
of steam-bath, which they consider great medicine. A hole is first dug
in the ground and filled with stones; a fire is kindled upon them long
before, and they are heated red-hot. The round framework of saplings
over these is covered with layer upon layer of blankets and robes,
so that no air can penetrate. The Indians, almost stripped of their
clothing, crouch round them, while the one acting as servant brings
water to pour on the heated rocks. The steam has no escape, and the
Indians are thoroughly roasted. While we were looking at this curious
bath-house a small Indian boy crept out from under the edges of the
blankets, and ashamed to have given in before the rest, drew his almost
parboiled little body into a hiding-place. Ever ambitious, like small
boys of all nationalities, he had at first believed experience better
than hearsay.
We went one day into a tepee that was placed by itself to see an Indian
who was only slightly ill. His father and friends were talking to him
of his death as a certainty, and making all the plans in advance.
They even took his measure for a coffin, assuring him that they would
honor him by putting him in a box in imitation of the white man. The
general used to listen wonderingly when they referred to their dead in
the speeches in council. It was always in some roundabout way, never
directly.
The Indians all seemed a melancholy people. They sometimes ask
embarrassing questions. Perhaps, when some young girl accompanied
us, they spoke to my husband in the sign language, in which he was
versed. Once they inquired if the young lady was his other wife. The
blush of the girl so amused us that our laugh rang out among them, and
seemed to be a sound they knew nothing of. They sat on the ground for
hours, gambling for iron, brass and silver rings, but always glum and
taciturn. The tallest Indian of them all, Long Soldier, grew to be very
cunning when he learned what a curiosity he was. He would crouch down
at our approach, and only at the sight of a coin as a “tip” would he
draw up his seven feet of height.
The Ree scouts entertained their chief, Star-of-the-North, during the
summer. We were all asked to the feast, and all formally presented
to the distinguished stranger, who could not comprehend why he was
expected to shake hands with women. After going through what he found
was courtesy among the whites, he offered us a place around the circle.
Taking a bone from the meat broiling before the fire he offered it to
the general. My husband, after getting some salt, had the courage to
eat it. It was want of tact on my part to decline, but my heart failed
me when I recognized the master of ceremonies for the evening. As he
proffered me some meat, I found him to be the ferocious-looking savage
who had killed his enemy from another tribe and eaten his heart warm.