CHIEF JOSEPH'S TRAIL OF BLOOD
The Nez Percé Indians were first encountered in 1805 by the Lewis and
Clark Expedition. They were at home in the region of eastern Oregon and
western Idaho. The Wallowa Valley, "land of winding water," was their
especial habitat. They referred to themselves as "Nim-i-pu," "the real
people." The name Nez Percé or "pierced noses" was a French cognomen of
doubtful validity.
The Nez Percé were not highly centralized in tribal organization. There
were several factions, but in the third quarter of the 19th century,
Tu-eka-kas, or Old Joseph, as the Reverend Henry H. Spaulding called
him, was a ranking chief. The Nez Percé befriended the Lewis and Clark
party by taking care of their horses. Thenceforth their policy was one
of cooperation and friendship with the white man, combined with a stern
insistence upon their rights. Joseph hoped for biracial adjustment. To
this end he always befriended the government, but it was understood that
his domain should never be invaded.
Federal Indian treaties made after 1855 brought white settlers ever
closer to the Nez Percé domain. Certain unprincipled Oregon people
looked greedily upon the choice lands of Wallowa. As the pressure
increased there was neither political will nor honor to curb the
aggressors. Hence, the noble Nez Percé, like all red men before them,
were thrown on the defensive.
Old Joseph sensed the impending issue, and before his death in 1871 he
exacted a promise from his son, Young Joseph, that he would never give
up Wallowa.[186] Years of increasing pressure brought a full vindication
of Old Joseph's fears and a realization of responsibility to his son.
By 1876 the federal government was yielding to local demands for Nez
Percé evacuation, and a commission brought in the usual report. The
non-treaty Indians had no standing and should be made to conform. They
should be required to join the other tribes on the Lapwai Reservation.
General O. O. Howard was directed to enforce the decree. The Nez Percé
were greatly distressed. Several conferences were held. Young Joseph
resisted manfully. By this time he was in his thirty-seventh year. Fully
mature, he stood six feet tall, and his rugged body disclosed tremendous
energy and sinew. His mind was keen, but his spirit was disciplined. He
was ready for his work.
The military authority gave Chief Joseph thirty days to get his people
on the reservation; June 14, 1877 was the deadline.[187] In vain Joseph
pleaded for an extension of time until fall. Orders had been given by
the military. Joseph also gave orders. His people gathered in their
stock and prepared for the migration; it was better for deer to be
penned up than to fight the grizzly. There were many soldiers at
Howard's back; the odds were too great. They must surely obey or perish.
Other Nez Percé leaders were not so wise. Chiefs Tu-hul-hul-sote and
White Bird wanted to fight. They were chiefs in their own right and had
large followings. Still, Joseph was willing to sacrifice honor and
prestige by resisting war.[188] He valued his people's blood above his
own pride. While the great man humbly revealed his integrity, trouble
brewed in darker minds.
[Illustration: Courtesy of Haynes, Inc.
Chief Joseph, war chief of the Nez Percé.]
An old man in White Bird's band was taunting young Wal-ait-its, whose
father, Eagle Blanket, had been slain by a white settler in 1876. "You
are brave! Why don't you go and show it by killing the man who killed
your father?" The goad fired him to a fever of revenge. He and two
companions sprang upon their horses. When they returned to the council,
four white men had answered the last call. Wal-ait-its shouted, "Why do
you sit here like women? The war has begun already." Tu-hul-hul-sote had
organized a war party. Joseph still hoped for a peaceful settlement. It
could not be. The war fever spread, and Indian blood was on fire. He
must either lead or step aside. He chose to defend his people and their
cause.[189]
On the morning of June 17 a battle took place in White Bird's Canyon.
Captain Perry, assisted by Lieutenants Theller and Parnell, was
approaching with two troops of cavalry. Joseph had taken command. He
quickly conceived of a daring triple-action assault. With instinctive
judgment he chose strategic positions and gave brisk orders. He moved
among his men, encouraging them, and directing them from place to place.
He seemed an all-pervading, dominating force. He deployed his braves
upon the heights. Protected by rocks and brush, they threaded a bobbing
course upon the beleaguered cavalry. Dismounting and aiming
deliberately, they decimated the ranks of soldiery.[190]
White Bird Canyon stands next to the Custer and Fetterman massacres as
the Waterloo of white troops before Indians, but the conditions were in
no way identical. The advantages were equally balanced at White Bird.
Young Joseph had proved himself a great war chief in a single
engagement. From this time forth his destiny was with him. He was the
last mighty Indian, and his name was Hin-mut-too-yah-lat-kekht, meaning
"Thunder strikes out of water and travels to loftier heights." Wherever
one touches him he is great; every incident and circumstance discloses a
big man. He exercised unerring judgment in strategy and tactics. Years
afterward Joseph said, "The Great Spirit puts it into the heart of man
to know how to defend himself."
The defeat of Perry threw General Howard's command into a frenzy of
activity. Orders went out for reinforcements, and troops moved toward
Lewiston from every direction. By the last of June, Howard was in the
field. The wily Indian leader had moved his entire nation beyond the
raging Salmon River where he made a stand. Said Howard, "A safer
position was unchoosable, nor one more puzzling and obstructive."[191]
Howard's soldiers experienced great difficulty in going where Joseph's
whole band had gone. This was just the prelude to a game of hide and
seek that lasted from late June to early October and lengthened into a
dozen engagements as the two forces moved eastward for the space of
sixteen hundred miles.
In the weeks that followed, General Howard learned to respect his adroit
and formidable foe. Joseph's forces never exceeded three hundred
warriors. The whole band numbered about seven hundred. General Howard's
command numbered five hundred and eighty regulars, and it was later
augmented by four separate commands in the course of the pursuit. The
forces of Joseph and Howard came to grips on the banks of Clearwater
River. There the Nez Percé fought with such courage and precision that
the battle must be written up as a draw.[192]
Joseph was now ready to fight to a finish, but his captains voted for a
retreat. Again he bowed to the will of the majority. They were destined
to pursue a "trail of tears" during the next three months. It was a
march as dramatic as the "flight of a Tartar tribe."[193] The band was
on the move, over the Lolo Trail--a terrific route. They lived on the
country--roots, berries, and game.
Joseph could cope with one enemy, but the military resources of the
whole Western Department baffled him. He found his exit from the Bitter
Roots obstructed by Captain Charles C. Rawn from Fort Missoula. Rawn
demanded surrender; Joseph parleyed until his forces outflanked Rawn's
position and escaped. At this juncture we see his humanity in making a
treaty of forbearance with the settlers in Bitter Root Valley.
The entire Nez Percé tribe was overtaken and attacked at daybreak, on
the Big Hole, by General John Gibbon's force of one hundred and eighty
soldiers, augmented by some of the erstwhile peaceful settlers. The
slaughter on both sides was: whites, twenty-nine killed, forty wounded;
Indians, eighty-three dead, wounded undetermined (fifty-three of the
dead were women and children).[194] Joseph commented bitterly, "The Nez
Percé never make war on women and children." Notwithstanding the
confusion of this surprise attack, Joseph's band recovered and moved on.
Howard was still on their trail.
Several Salmon City, Idaho, freighters fell before the drunken wrath of
some of Joseph's braves on Birch Creek. In Camas Meadows Howard
maneuvered for a stand. The result was the loss of many mules and
horses. Worse still was the mortal wounding of three soldiers and
serious injury of five others. Just as Howard was expecting to pounce
upon his prey, the crafty chief whirled around and inflicted a
surprising blow, escaping almost scot free.
[Illustration: A general map of Chief Joseph's flight.]
Several days later the Nez Percé were trailing up the Madison River
within the Park. They were strangers in Yellowstone and the most
unwelcome tourists it has ever known. Within this identical week
Secretary of War William T. Sherman and an escort of five concluded a
tour and left for Fort Ellis. They did not see "any signs of Indians,
and felt at no moment more sense of danger than we do here."[195] A few
days later they were cognizant of their lucky break. Near Madison
Junction the Nez Percé met a prospector named Shively whom they pressed
into service as a guide. A few days later they seized another miner
named Irwin, and held him for a while.
The Radersburg Tourists
The Nez Percé spent the night of August 23 in camp on the banks of the
Firehole River, above the narrows. At daybreak the next morning several
Indians appeared in the camp of some tourists from Radersburg, Montana.
The personnel of this party were Mr. and Mrs. George F. Cowan; Mrs.
Cowan's brother and sister, Frank and Ida Carpenter; Charles Mann;
William Dingee; Albert Oldham; A. J. Arnold; and Henry Myers. A
prospector, named Harmon, was also associated with the Cowan party at
this time.
These people were just preparing to break up the "home" camp located at
this terminus of the wagon road. For the past week they had been
enjoying themselves on horseback visits to the geyser basins, and
several of them had been to the lake and canyon.
Dingee asked the Indians, "What are you?" "Snake Injun," one replied.
Later they admitted they were Nez Percé and made a demand for coffee and
bacon. Cowan refused to give them any, and as one who called himself
"Charley" attempted to give a signal the stern Cowan peremptorily
ordered him to "keep hands down!" Right there a special resentment was
engendered toward the "older man." Frank Carpenter asked them if any
harm was in store for the party. The spokesman said, "Don't know, maybe
so." He gave them to understand that since the Big Hole Battle the Nez
Percé were double-minded toward the white man.[196]
The worried little party held a hasty consultation, and in view of their
limited arms and ammunition they decided, with serious misgivings, to
make an appeal to the chiefs for their deliverance.
They, therefore, hooked up the team, saddled their horses, and joined
the Indian caravan, which turned eastward and journeyed up Nez Percé
Creek. After proceeding a couple of miles the wagon was abandoned, its
contents rifled, and the spokes knocked out for whip handles. By midday
the Radersburg case had come to the attention of the chiefs. A council
was held at the base of Mary Mountain in which it was decided that the
tourists were to be liberated. Poker Joe spoke for the chiefs:
Some of our people knew Mrs. Cowan and her sister at Spokane House.
The soldiers killed many Nez Percé women and children on the Big Hole.
But we do not hurt Montana people. You may go. Take old horses and do
not spy.[197]
They were relieved of their saddles, guns, and horses, worn-out animals
being substituted for the latter. The white men nodded acceptance of
these extraordinary terms. They were glad to part with the tribe and
retrace their course. Within a half hour, two of the white men, Arnold
and Dingee, abandoned their horses and ducked into the forest. Hidden
Indian scouts were obviously expecting just such behavior. A few minutes
later seventy-five braves swooped upon Cowan's party, demanding the
missing members. Cowan could only plead ignorance. Whereupon, Charley
said, "You will have to come back." The little band again turned
eastward with leaden spirits.
Angry Indians were milling around on all sides, each waiting for the
other to start an attack. Suddenly Um-till-lilp-cown, one of the three
Idaho murderers, fired at Cowan, hitting him in the thigh.[198] At the
same time Oldham felt a twinge on both checks as a bullet passed through
his face. Carpenter saw an Indian aiming at him, and thinking some of
the Nez Percé might be Catholics he made the sign of the cross. His act
may have disconcerted the warrior for he did not fire. Oldham managed to
get away through a thicket, while Cowan was so stunned he fell to the
earth. His wife jumped down from her horse and clasped him to her bosom,
but they dragged her away. Another shot, from close range, struck him in
the forehead. His wounds were considered fatal, and he was left to die.
At this juncture Poker Joe arrived from the chiefs, who had got word of
the attack, and he stopped the onslaught.
In the shuffle and commotion that ensued, Myers, Harmon, and Mann made
their getaway. Mann felt a bullet whiz through his hat as he ran among
the trees. Each man went in a different direction and carried the
impression that he was the sole survivor. This was the opinion of each
of the separated contingents. Each considered all missing ones as
obviously dead.
The unscattered survivors, including Mrs. Cowan, her brother Frank, and
sister Ida, were again taken captives. Although their treatment during
the next twenty-four hours was considerate, it was a period of great
mental anguish for them. They spent the night by Chief Joseph's
campfire, and considering the circumstances their attitude toward him
was most interesting. Mrs. Cowan said of him:
My brother tried to converse with Chief Joseph, but without avail. The
Chief sat by the fire, sombre and silent, foreseeing in his gloomy
meditations possibly the unhappy ending of his campaign. The "noble
red man" we read of was more nearly impersonated in this Indian than
in any I have ever met. Grave and dignified, he looked a chief.[199]
[Illustration: Radersburg tourist party marker.]
[Illustration: W. S. Chapman
George F. Cowan stands up to Nez Percé warriors.]
On the evening of the twenty-fifth the captives were provided with two
horses and released near the Mud Volcano. "They must not go too fast";
therefore no saddle for Ida or horse for Frank were provided. Poker Joe
directed them to go down the river "quick." This they did as rapidly as
their broken-down ponies would carry them. Burdened with grief and care,
they made their way over Mount Washburn and beyond Tower Falls where
they came upon a detail of soldiers who supplied their most urgent
necessities and found them a ride to Bozeman.
In going down Yellowstone Valley they were the recipients of much
sympathy from the settlers. As they entered Bozeman, Lieutenant Doane
and a considerable number of Crow Indian scouts and soldiers were
leaving for the Park. Carpenter joined Doane's command, with the
intention of returning to the scene of the attack and attending to the
burial of his brother-in-law. In mourning, Mrs. Cowan and her sister
continued on to Radersburg.
But Cowan was a sturdy being; he would not die. It was nearly sundown
when he regained consciousness. Wounded in thigh and head, he yet pulled
himself up from his rocky "grave." Unfortunately an Indian sentinel
observed his movement, drew a bead, and fired. Cowan dropped with a
fresh wound in his left side. He now felt that they had "fixed" him
beyond all hope of recovery. However, he remained conscious and lay
motionless until darkness settled.
Then he started a crawling retreat toward Lower Geyser Basin, nine miles
away.[200] What an eternity August 24 must have seemed! Were his wife
and friends safe? He had little basis for hoping so. Could he make a
getaway, and was it worth the effort? About midnight he apprehended
motion among the cinquefoil. It was an Indian scout, raised to elbow
posture, listening. Cowan remained perfectly quiet until the watchman
relaxed; then he circled the danger zone by more than a mile. Onward he
dragged his tortured body, alternately resting and crawling. He finally
reached the deserted wagon where his bird dog faithfully waited. She
growled and menaced until recognition dawned, then hovered over him like
a protecting mother. There was no food anywhere to be found, but he
gathered up the sheets of Carpenter's diary. Cowan pressed doggedly on
toward the campground in the Lower Geyser Basin. During the third day a
band of Indians came by his hiding place. They were friendly Bannocks of
Howard's command, but he did not know and took no chance.
On the twenty-seventh he reached the old camp, found matches, and
gathered spilled coffee grains and an empty can. These netted him a cup
of coffee. He passed the night there. The following day he crawled over
by the road, and that effort taxed his strength to the limit. It was
enough, as relief came in the form of two of Howard's scouts, Captain S.
G. Fisher and J. W. Redington. The latter said, "Who in hell are you?"
"I'm George Cowan of Radersburg."
"You don't say! We've come to bury you."
They rendered first aid, provided food, and left Cowan by a roaring fire
with the assurance that the main force would gather him up within two
days. Mr. Fee has deftly described the abrupt termination of that hard
earned felicity:
Cowan ate enough to keep himself alive and lay down in silent joy to
sleep the night through. Towards morning he was awakened by awful
heat, and found to his dismay that the vegetable mold he was lying on
had taken fire and encircled him with flames. He rose on hands and
knees and suffering terribly, crawled across the charred area to
safety. His hands and legs were badly burned.[201]
In the meantime his scattered companions were being united. Mr. Harmon
was the first to reach General Howard's encampment at Henrys Lake.
Arnold and Dingee arrived after several days and nights of hardship.
Myers and Oldham were encountered by Howard's scouts. The latter was in
a pitiful state. His tongue was so swollen, as a result of his wound,
that he could not speak. Shock and exposure to the cold nights, together
with lack of food for four days, had left its mark upon them all.
Howard reluctantly took the whole delegation along, and on August 29
they joined Cowan in the Lower Geyser Basin. Arnold said Cowan was a
"most pitiful looking object. He was covered with blood, which had dried
on him, and he was as black as a negro." Here Cowan learned of his
wife's safety, and that news, together with his friend Arnold's
"unremitting attentions," pulled him through. The army surgeon
ministered to the physical wounds of the men but no sympathy was
forthcoming. The Radersburg men desired to return home by way of Henrys
Lake, but they were bundled along with the command, over roads that
were:
simply horrible and almost impassable for wagons. At times we were
compelled to lower them over precipices with ropes, and again we would
hitch a rope to a wagon and pull it up the hill by man power.[202]
In the meantime Frank Carpenter, along with Lieutenant Doane's command,
pressed toward the Park. They found Henderson's ranch buildings in
flames. A band of renegade Nez Percé were spreading terror in their
wake. Camp was established there anyway, and a courier arrived,
directing Lieutenant Doane to mark time until joined by Colonel Charles
C. Gilbert and the Seventh Infantry. Carpenter's plan to return and bury
Cowan was again frustrated. A promise to perform that function, given by
a frontiersman named Houston induced Carpenter to return to Bozeman.
There he learned that all members of the party were safe and accounted
for except Cowan. The news that Cowan was still alive reached him a few
days later when he met the two scouts who had found Cowan just a week
before. Perhaps no one else could have convinced him his friend was
alive.
[Illustration: M. D. Beal
Detail map showing Nez Percé movements in Yellowstone Park.]
Legend:
- - - - - - Route of main band of Nez Percé Indians.
x x x x x x Route of marauding band to the north and
back to main band.
X Cowan party camp west of Fountain Geyser.
1 Nez Percé camp in lower Geyser Basin.
2 Where Cowan party was attacked and Cowan
shot.
3 Mary Lake and Mary Mountain.
4 Nez Percé camp and crossing of Yellowstone
River near Mud Volcano.
5 Helena party camp on Otter Creek where
Indians attacked.
6 Mammoth Hot Springs.
7 Baronett's Bridge across Yellowstone River.
A telegram to Mrs. Cowan brought her posthaste from Radersburg. She
reached Bottler's ranch, a distance of one hundred and seventy-five
miles, in thirty-one hours. The reunion was effected on September 24,
exactly one month from the date of the attack.
The Helena Tourist Party
Other Yellowstone visitors were caught in the Nez Percé net as it rolled
across the Park. It has been sufficiently indicated that Chief Joseph
maintained a role of dignified restraint, but there were unprincipled
factions under less responsible leadership which he could not keep under
his thumb. While the main tribe was slowly weaving its course through
the Park some of the reckless young men were foraging far and wide. It
is also correct to observe that bitter resentment had been smoldering
toward the entire white race since the battle of Big Hole. The Nez Percé
were inclined to regard every white man as an enemy.
This Indian psychology, or "bad heart," helps account for the conduct of
a marauding band of White Bird's "bucks" toward a party of Helena
tourists north of Hayden Valley. There were ten men in this company: A.
J. Weikert, Richard Dietrich, Frederick Pfister, Joseph Roberts, Charles
Kenck, Jack Stewart, August Foller, Leslie Wilkie, L. Duncan, and a
negro cook named Benjamin Stone.
On the morning of August 25 this party was traveling along between
Sulphur Mountain and Mud Volcano when they observed a body of horsemen
fording the river. They correctly apprehended that the mounted men were
hostile Nez Percé.[203] Thereupon, the tourists hastily repaired to the
timber near the forks of Otter Creek and formed camp. It was a
well-chosen position and might have been defended effectively if the
natural advantages had been utilized.
However, no harm came to them that day or night. The next morning
Weikert and Wilkie went reconnoitering in the vicinity of Alum Creek
where they encountered a detail of the marauders. The white men
retreated speedily, but Weikert was hit in the shoulder in the exchange
of fire.
In the meantime the camp on Otter Creek was raided. Instead of posting a
lookout the campers were huddled together, waiting for dinner, and
hoping they would continue to escape notice. Mr. Kenck's mind was active
with forebodings; addressing the elderly colored cook, he said, "Stone,
what would you do if the Indians should jump us?" Stone laconically
replied, "You all take care ob yoursel' and I'll take care ob me."[204]
In that instant the Nez Percé struck. The eight tourists scattered like
surprised deer. Kenck was hit and killed; Stewart was shot, fell, and
was overtaken. He pleaded so earnestly for his life that he charmed
their savage impulse and was spared. Dietrich fell in the creek and
remained there four hours.
Ben Stone ran as fast as his old legs would carry him, but in midstream
they gave out, and he lay prone in the water. The red men left as
suddenly as they came. When Wilkie and Weikert arrived they fell in with
some of the others and started for Mammoth. Joseph Roberts and August
Foller had slipped away, and as it later transpired they went west to
Madison River and thence to Virginia City and home. The other seven
reached Mammoth, where Dietrich and Stone unfortunately decided to
remain pending the arrival of Roberts and Foller. Dietrich had promised
young Roberts' mother that he would be responsible for his safe return.
On August 31, Weikert and McCartney, the "hotel" owner, left for the
Otter Creek campground to look for the two missing men and to inter the
remains of Mr. Kenck. The latter business accomplished, they were
returning when the renegades, who had just committed a fresh deed of
vengeance at Mammoth, met them at the falls of East Gardner River. A
lively skirmish ensued, in which Weikert's horse was killed and the
others got away, before a sheltered position was reached. The
desperadoes withdrew, and the white men pursued a cautious course to
Mammoth. It was in this stage of their journey when McCartney, observing
that Weikert was pale as a ghost, asked, "Do I look pale?" "No," replied
his friend, "Do I?" McCartney answered, "No." Each was trying hard to
"buck up" the other's morale.[205]
Upon reaching Mammoth they learned about Dietrich's fate. On August 31
he and Stone saw a band of Indians pass McCartney's place. They were Nez
Percé on their way to Henderson's ranch which they ransacked and burned.
The next day, when they returned, Ben Stone made a precipitous exit from
the cabin and ran up Clematis Gulch. Dietrich, evidently believing the
Indians friendly, stood in the doorway. They shot and killed him.
Several days before he had expressed a premonition of death to Weikert.
In view of this condition his conduct was attributed to inexperience.
Ben Stone, it will be remembered, was the colored cook who had a narrow
call in the Otter Creek melee. This second escapade was even a closer
shave. Stone evidently possessed sufficient of the quaint humor
characteristic of his race to warrant the perpetuation of an amusing
frontier tale.
Following is the story, as related by Stone to the men at Henderson's
ranch, before he had fully recovered from his scare. The account begins
at the end, wherein the negro was challenged by a sentry as he
approached the camp:
"'Halt, who comes dar?' 'Ben Stone.' 'Come in, Ben Stone.' An' you bet I
come a-runnin'." Then he rehearsed the day's activities in this wise:
"I seed de Injuns comin' aroun' in de foah-noon dis mornin'. I tole
Dietrich we had better be a gettin' out ob dis, but he kept a sayin'
'I'll neber go back to Mrs. Roberts widout Joe.' 'Bout 'leven or
twelve o'clock Dietrich says, 'I'll go down an' change de hosses,
re-picket dem, while you git dinnah, Ben.' 'I say "all right."
"Well, while he was gone a changin' ob de hosses, I looked out ob de
doah an' seed a Injun stick his head up ober a rock out in front ob de
house. I didn't wait for no lebe, I didn't, an' dropped eberyting an'
bolted trew de back doah, I did, up into de timbah an' laid down
awaitin' for somethin' to do next. I seed de Injuns all 'bout de house
an' pears like dey was mighty anxious to fine me, but I wasen't
anxious to fine dem. It war gettin' along towards night, and I clim a
tree. Purty soon a big Injun rode right down under de tree a searchin'
aroun' for me. I jes hel' my bref an' say to myself, 'Oh Mr. Injun;
good Mr. Injun, don't look up dis way!' Boys, I 'clare to goodness I
could hab touched dat Injun's head wif my foot--but I didn't!
"Bye'm-bye de Injun go away down towards de springs an' I got down on
to de ground an' strike for de side ob de mountain whar I laid down. I
was a layin' in de brush, when all ob a sudden I heerd a crackin' in
de brush. Den, boys, I got right down on my knees an' prayed (an' I
hope de God Almighty forgive me, I neber prayed before sense I lef' my
modder's knee), but I jes got down an' say 'O Lod God A'mighty, jes
help me out ob dis scrape an' I will neber interfere wid you no moah!'
I heerd dis noise an' a crashin' in de bushes again, an' I jes laid
down wid my face to de ground an' I spected to feel de tom hawk in de
back of my head. All ob a sudden I turned ober and dar I seed a big
black bar a lookin' at me. Boys, I neber was so glad to see a bar
afore in all my life. De bar he got up an' run, an' I got up an' run
to de top ob de mountain when I saw youah camp fire an' heah I'
is--bress de Lod!"[206]
At the conclusion of this delineation two of Lieutenant Doane's friendly
Indian scouts rushed toward Stone with arms extended, exclaiming "How,
how!" The distraught negro nearly fainted from a fresh attack of fright.
No amount of explanation could convince him they were not after his
scalp. Indeed, he was certain that the larger buck was Chief Joseph
himself![207]
Finally his friends Weikert and McCartney arrived, and thereafter his
emotions switched around to unrestrained gratitude to his maker. The
rest of the night was given over to lusty expressions of praise and
hallelujahs. When objections were raised Stone replied that God had
saved his life twice and he was going to thank Him as long and loud as
he liked. Lieutenant Doane was forced to post a guard to maintain the
peace.
At this time word arrived that Roberts and Foller were in Virginia City.
The remains of poor Dietrich, who had been sacrificed so unnecessarily,
were taken to Helena by Weikert. He also took the remains of Charles
Kenck there for final interment.
General Howard leisurely pursued the fleeing Nez Percé marauders up the
Lamar Valley after repairing Baronett's bridge which they had partially
burned. In the meantime, Joseph's main band had crossed Yellowstone
River, near Mud Volcano, and followed the east bank toward the lake.
Shively, their captive guide, directed them up Pelican Creek to its
source. Here Joseph's scouts reported the presence of miners on the
Lamar and Howard's spies in the area. The scouts further noted that
Colonel Sturgis and eight troops of the Seventh Cavalry from the Crow
Agency on the Little Rosebud were in position astride the regular
Absaroka Pass near Hart (Heart) Mountain. Joseph was now cut off between
the commands of Howard and Sturgis.
This situation demanded desperate action. The threat of interception
brought forth a masterful stratagem from the Red Napoleon. Upon reaching
the Lamar-Shoshone Divide, Joseph turned abruptly southward. Was he
striking for Stinking Water? Sturgis could not risk this chance. He,
therefore, whirled in that direction, pursuing a parallel course--the
summit dividing their forces.
Joseph's feint worked; he passed by Sturgis' right flank. He now doubled
back beyond the main Absaroka gateway, toward Clarks Fork, and plunged
through a "hidden" pass located by his feverish scouts. He fairly hurled
his people over the rocky barrier and dropped them pell-mell down to
Clarks Fork.[208] It was his task to get the protection of the Crow
Indians, cross the Buffalo country, and reach Canada and safety.
By the time Colonel Sturgis had discovered the deception General Howard
arrived. Indeed, he was already painfully pursuing the elusive foe
through the awful earth gash Joseph had taken. When the two officers met
there was an impressive demonstration of cussing. Wasn't there a unit in
the whole United States' Army that could outwit this red devil?
Spurred by the barbed goad of frustration and anger, Sturgis pressed on
in hot pursuit. On September 13, his troops were in their saddles at 5
A.M. When they drew rein at 12 P.M. sixty miles had been negotiated.
Joseph's band was still ahead! By daybreak the soldiers were on the
trail again. They halted on the lower Yellowstone, near Billings.
Discouragement pervaded their ranks; by common consent the Seventh
Cavalry was ready to quit.[209] They felt a comrade's compassion for
General Howard's command.
Two miles away the Nez Percé were headed for the mouth of Canyon Creek.
"Let's beat 'em to it," and away they sped. The Indians gained the
protection first. Officers Benteen, Otis, French, and Merrill's
battalions maneuvered bravely and well, but the watchful Nez Percé kept
them back. There was rapid sharp shooting on both sides. When they
finally broke through the Indians had disappeared.
Strewn upon the dusty battlefield were a dozen dead horses, five
soldiers dead and eleven wounded. Night fell, and a cool wind drummed
a funeral dirge upon the mind of many a restless soldier. When General
Howard arrived the next day Sturgis was still on the trail. A band of
Crow Indians had joined the white forces and were spoiling for a
fight, but Sturgis had already wind-broken his horse and run out of
rations. The Indian pace was too fast for him, but the rapidity of
this flight forced them to abandon nine hundred horses.[210] However,
Chief Joseph's pony supply was augmented by a wholesale seizure from
the Crows. He had crossed the Musselshell; next he would ford the
Missouri which would bring them within the protection of Montana's
northern wastelands. Canada was not far away. Howard could never catch
him now. Perhaps there would be time to kill some buffalo, feed their
weary ponies, and rest their squaws.
He was reckoning without the telegraph and the ambitious interest of
Colonel Nelson A. Miles at Fort Keogh on Tongue River. On September 17,
a rider brought Howard's S. O. S.; immediately Colonel Miles was all
action. That very day he had three hundred and eighty-three men across
Tongue River and on the march. Twenty-four hours later they were fifty
miles away. They crossed the Musselshell River and marched on to the
Missouri, where a steamboat ferried them across. Ever crowding men and
beasts, he caught up with the Nez Percé on the twenty-ninth of
September.
Joseph had made sure that Howard and Sturgis were far behind. In fact,
they were deliberately slow. "We must not move too fast lest we flush
the game." Actually both of their commands were much depleted. The real
job was up to Miles; they were providing the decoy. This time it worked.
Again, as at Big Hole, Joseph failed to anticipate trouble from other
quarters than Howard's. The one-armed general was six days' march in the
rear. Surely they could relax now. Upon reaching the Bear Paw Mountains
he considered his position secure. He posted no scouts. Joseph obviously
believed they had crossed the international boundary. Later, as he
looked back in retrospection, he said:
I sat down in a fat and beautiful country. I had won my freedom and
the freedom of my people. There were many empty places in the lodges
and the council, but we were in a land where we would not be forced to
live in a place we did not want. I believed that if I could remain
safe at a distance and talk straight to the men that would be sent by
the Great Father, I could get back to the Wallowa Valley and remain in
peace. That is why I did not allow my young men to kill and destroy
the white settlers after I began to fight. I wanted to leave a clean
trail, and if there were dead soldiers on that trail, I could not be
to blame. I had sent out runners to Sitting Bull to tell him that
another band of red men had been forced to run from the soldiers of
the Great Father, and to propose that we join forces if we were
attacked. My people were recovering their health and the wounded
getting better of their hurts.[211]
Joseph's coveted felicity was roughly arrested on the dawn of September
30. His brief respite was assailed by the dual forces of nature and men.
Snow flurries whipped the lodge flaps. Horses milled restlessly. An
Indian youth slipped out to reconnoiter. He perceived the rapid approach
of a formidable force of cavalry. The alarm was given.
Instantly the Nez Percé camp was churning with commotion. A hundred
ponies were laden with squaws and papooses. They fled north under an
escort of sixty braves. The balance of the encampment fairly clawed out
positions of defense along a crescent-shaped ravine called Snake Creek.
By this time the military was in position. Colonel Miles sized up the
situation at a glance and barked commands: "Captain Hale, draw up on the
south flank." "McHugh, mount the Hotchkiss and wheel forward."
"Infantry, deploy and follow cavalry charge; swing the four-pound
howitzer to north." "Troops of Second Cavalry, surround enemy pony
herd." "Lieutenant McClernand, retrieve the fleeing train." "Main
cavalry, ready for frontal assault." He surveyed the resulting
formation, raised his arm, and shouted, "Attack!"[212]
Reins were loosed, spurs clicked, and away rolled a thundering avalanche
of mounted might. The charging line raced headlong toward the Indian
camp. It was the same speed and precision that had broken the power of
the Sioux and Cheyenne nations. The Nez Percé grimly waited. At a
hundred yards they opened fire, and the battle broke with a roar.
In the wake of the charge were fifty-three soldiers dead or wounded. K
Troop lost over sixty per cent of their complement. Joseph's camp was
cut in twain, but the position could not be forced, and the cavalry
passed through. The Nez Percé settled deeper into their entrenchments,
and a state of siege ensued. However, the Colonel's pony detail
succeeded in rounding up the Indian ponies. The Nez Percé were now on
foot. That night a six-inch mantle of snow fell. Continuous fire was
sustained the next day. Then a parley was arranged. Joseph was promised
a safe conduct. He accepted but was made a prisoner. However, the Nez
Percé captured an officer named Jerome and held him as hostage for
Joseph. Terms were proposed. Miles demanded unconditional surrender, but
Chief Joseph exacted a promise to return his people to the Lapwai
Reservation. This Miles granted.[213]
On October 4, the fifth day of the siege, Joseph led his haggard people
out of their camp. His head was bowed in awful solemnity. As he
approached a cluster of officers, including General Howard, he
straightened up and dismounted with dignity. Impulsively he presented
his rifle to Howard, but the general motioned him to "Bear Coat" Miles.
After disarmament the great chief stepped forward, raised his arm in a
sweeping motion toward the reddening sun, and intoned the requiem of a
dying race:
Tell General Howard that I know his heart. What he told me before I
have in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed.
Looking Glass is dead, Tu-hul-hul-sote is dead. The old men are all
dead. It is the young men who now say yes or no. He who led the young
men is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children
are freezing to death. My people--some of them have run away to the
hills and have no blankets and no food. No one knows where they
are--perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my
children and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them
among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs, my heart is sick and sad. From
where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever.[214]
The Montana sun was going down; Hin-mut-too-yah-lat-kekht had spoken as
its rays flickered.
The officers came forward and shook his hand. As he turned away, drawing
his blanket over his head, the white soldiers discerned five bullet
holes in his blanket and wounds on his forehead and wrist.
There was something about this leader that tugged at their heart strings
as he beckoned his children toward their prison camp. There were four
hundred and twelve survivors, including forty-six wounded. Twenty-six
Indians and twenty-seven white men (plus Miles' two Indian scouts) had
been slain. Joseph's conduct in burying the dead and in ministering to
his half-starved and freezing people elicited the admiration of all. As
the handsome, plucky chieftain assuaged their sorrow he seemed greater
than any one man. Surely, here was the embodiment of the Nez Percé,
indeed, of all Indian people. In his person were combined elements both
noble and tragic. He was the last best specimen of a truly native race.
By nature Joseph was a modest man and inclined toward peace and good
will. Events forced him into a role that has won eternal fame. Even
General Sherman, who entertained no high sentiments for Indians, could
not withhold his meed of praise:
Thus has terminated one of the most extraordinary Indian wars of which
there is any record. The Indians throughout displayed a courage and
skill that elicited universal praise; they abstained from scalping;
let captive women go free; did not commit indiscriminate murders of
peaceful families and fought with almost scientific skill, using
advance and rear guards, skirmish lines and field fortifications.[215]
Other competent authorities have gone further. One ventured the
asseveration that:
Had Joseph led thousands and had he been born of a people and in a
place less remote from the main currents of history, his name would
resound in our ears like thunder.[216]
As it is, the tale of the Nez Percé retreat, surrender, and burning
years of their exile strike a mournful note upon the ears of men.
At Bear Paw a long "trail of tears" began for Joseph and his people.
There was the solemn trek to Fort Keogh, thence to Bismarck, on to Fort
Leavenworth, and finally to a small Oklahoma reserve. This was virtually
a sentence of death for these mountain-bred people.[217] Miles could not
make his promise good. Joseph was depressed by the increasing time and
distance. Said he, "The Great Spirit Chief who rules above seemed to be
looking some other way and did not see what was happening to my people."
Many government officials called upon Joseph ("White men have too many
chiefs"). Promises were lightly made ("Look twice at a two-faced man").
Resolutions were circulated ("Big name often on small legs"). The wise
chief was learning the ways of his masters.
[Illustration: W. S. Chapman
Indian war club and peace pipe.]
Joseph's conqueror became his truest friend. Miles, a general now, kept
working to fulfill his vow. Said he:
I frequently and persistently, for seven long years, urged that they
be sent home to their own country but not until 1884, when I was in
command of the Department of the Columbia, did I succeed in having
them returned west of the mountains near their own country.[218]
In 1885, after they had been ravaged by sickness and death, the remnant
of the Nez Percé tribe was established on the Colville Reservation in
Washington state. Here Joseph's declining years were spent in the
companionship of his wives and children, until his death on September
21, 1904. There, among a vast concourse of white and Indian people,
Thunder-Traveling-to-Loftier-Heights was gathered to his fathers.