noticed a pine-tree, the branches of which spread over the top of the
rock,” and the sergeant pointed to it. “If you will make the men cover
the top of the rim-rock with their rifles, Bordeson and I will go up;”
and turning to the Swede, “Will you go, Otto?”
“I will go anywhere the sergeant does,” came his gallant reply.
“Take your choice, then, of the steps or the pine-tree,” continued the
Virginian; and after a rather short but sharp calculation the Swede
declared for the tree, although both were death if the Indians were on
the rim-rock. He immediately began sidling along the rock to the tree,
and slowly commenced the ascent. The sergeant took a few steps up the
cutting, holding on by the rope. The officer stood out and smiled
quizzically. Jeers came from behind the soldiers' bushes--“Go it, Otto!
Go it, Johnson! Your feet are loaded! If a snow-bird flies, you will
drop dead! Do you need any help? You'd make a hell of a sailor!” and
other gibes.
The gray clouds stretched away monotonously over the waste of snow, and
it was cold. The two men climbed slowly, anon stopping to look at each
other and smile. They were monkeying with death.
At last the sergeant drew himself up, slowly raised his head, and saw
snow and broken rock. Otto lifted himself likewise, and he too saw
nothing Rifle-shots came clearly to their ears from far in front--many
at one time, and scattering at others. Now the soldiers came briskly
forward, dragging up the cliff in single file. The dull noises of the
fight came through the wilderness. The skirmish-line drew quickly
forward and passed into the pine woods, but the Indian trails scattered.
Dividing into sets of four, they followed on the tracks of small
parties, wandering on until night threatened. At length the main trail
of the fugitive band ran across their front, bringing the command
together. It was too late for the officer to get his horses before dark,
nor could he follow with his exhausted men, so he turned to the sergeant
and asked him to pick some men and follow on the trail. The sergeant
picked Otto Borde-son, who still affirmed that he would go anywhere that
Johnson went, and they started. They were old hunting companions, having
confidence in each other's sense and shooting. They ploughed through the
snow, deeper and deeper into the pines, then on down a canon where the
light was failing. The sergeant was sweating freely; he raised his hand
to press his fur cap backward from his forehead. He drew it quickly
away; he stopped and started, caught Otto by the sleeve, and drew a long
breath. Still holding his companion, he put his glove again to his nose,
sniffed at it again, and with a mighty tug brought the startled Swede to
his knees, whispering, “I smell Indians; I can sure smell 'em,
Otto--can you?” Otto sniffed, and whispered back, “Yes, plain!” “We are
ambushed! Drop!” and the two soldiers sunk in the snow. A few feet in
front of them lay a dark thing; crawling to it, they found a large
calico rag, covered with blood.
[Illustration: 14 THE TWO MEN CLIMBED SLOWLY]
“Let's do something, Carter; we's in a fix.” “If we go down, Otto, we
are gone; if we go back, we are gone; let's go forward,” hissed the
sergeant.
Slowly they crawled from tree to tree.
“Don't you see the Injuns?” said the Swede, as he pointed to the rocks
in front, where lay their dark forms. The still air gave no sound. The
cathedral of nature, with its dark pine trunks starting from gray snow
to support gray sky, was dead. Only human hearts raged, for the forms
which held them lay like black bowlders.
“Egah--lelah washatah,” yelled the sergeant.
Two rifle-shots rang and reverberated down the canon; two more replied
instantly from the soldiers. One Indian sunk, and his carbine went
clanging down the rocks, burying itself in the snow. Another warrior
rose slightly, took aim, but Johnson's six-shooter cracked again, and
the Indian settled slowly down without firing. A squaw moved slowly in
the half-light to where the buck lay. Bordeson drew a bead with his
carbine.
“Don't shoot the woman, Otto. Keep that hole covered; the place is alive
with Indians;” and both lay still.
A buck rose quickly, looked at the sergeant, and dropped back. The
latter could see that he had him located, for he slowly poked his rifle
up without showing his head. Johnson rolled swiftly to one side, aiming
with his deadly revolver. Up popped the Indian's head, crack went the
six-shooter; the head turned slowly, leaving the top exposed. Crack
again went the alert gun of the soldier, the ball striking the head just
below the scalp-lock and instantly jerking the body into a kneeling
position.
Then all was quiet in the gloomy woods.
After a time the sergeant addressed his voice to the lonely place in
Sioux, telling the women to come out and surrender--to leave the bucks,
etc.
An old squaw rose sharply to her feet, slapped her breast, shouted
“Lelah washatah,” and gathering up a little girl and a bundle, she
strode forward to the soldiers. Three other women followed, two of them
in the same blanket.
“Are there any more bucks?” roared the sergeant, in Sioux.
“No more alive,” said the old squaw, in the same tongue.
“Keep your rifle on the hole between the rocks; watch these people; I
will go up,” directed the sergeant, as he slowly mounted to the ledge,
and with levelled six-shooter peered slowly over. He stepped in and
stood looking down on the dead warriors.
A yelling in broken English smote the startled sergeant. “Tro up your
hands, you d---- Injun! I'll blow the top off you!” came through the
quiet. The sergeant sprang down to see the Swede standing with carbine
levelled at a young buck confronting him with a drawn knife in his
hands, while his blanket lay back on the snow.
“He's a buck--he ain't no squaw; he tried to creep on me with a knife.
I'm going to kill him,” shouted the excited Bordeson.
“No, no, don't kill him. Otto, don't you kill him,” expostulated
Johnson, as the Swede's finger clutched nervously at the trigger, and
turning, he roared, “Throw away that knife, you d------Indian!”
The detachment now came charging in through the snow, and gathered
around excitedly. A late arrival came up, breathing heavily, dropped his
gun, and springing up and down, yelled, “Be jabbers, I have got among om
at last!” A general laugh went up, and the circle of men broke into a
straggling line for the return. The sergeant took the little girl up in
his arms. She grabbed him fiercely by the throat like a wild-cat,
screaming. While nearly choking, he yet tried to mollify her, while her
mother, seeing no harm was intended, pacified her in the soft gutturals
of the race. She relaxed her grip, and the brave Virginian packed her
down the mountain, wrapped in his soldier cloak. The horses were reached
in time, and the prisoners put on double behind the soldiers, who fed
them crackers as they marched. At two o'clock in the morning the little
command rode into Fort Robinson and dismounted at the guardhouse. The
little girl, who was asleep and half frozen in Johnson's overcoat, would
not go to her mother: poor little cat, she had found a nest. The
sergeant took her into the guard-house, where it was warm. She soon fell
asleep, and slowly he undid her, delivering her to her mother. On the
following morning he came early to the guard-house, loaded with trifles
for his little Indian girl. He had expended all his credit at the
post-trader's, but he could carry sentiment no further, for “To horse!”
was sounding, and he joined the Orphan Troop to again ride on the
Dull-Knife trail. The brave Cheyennes were running through the frosty
hills, and the cavalry horses pressed hotly after. For ten days the
troops surrounded the Indians by day, and stood guard in the snow by
night, but coming day found the ghostly warriors gone and their
rifle-pits empty. They were cut off and slaughtered daily, but the
gallant warriors were fighting to their last nerve. Towards the end they
were cooped in a gully on War-Bon-natt Creek, where they fortified; but
two six-pounders had been hauled out, and were turned on their works.
The four troops of cavalry stood to horse on the plains all day, waiting
for the poor wretches to come out, while the guns roared, ploughing the
frozen dirt and snow over their little stronghold; but they did not come
out. It was known that all the provisions they had was the dead horse of
a corporal of E Troop, which had been shot within twenty paces of their
rifle-pits.
[Illustration: 15 BRAVE CHEYENNES RUNNING THROUGH THE FROSTY HILLS]
So, too, the soldiers were starving, and the poor Orphans had only
crackers to eat. They were freezing also, and murmuring to be led to
“the charge,” that they might end it there, but they were an orphan
troop, and must wait for others to say. The sergeant even asked an
officer to let them go, but was peremptorily told to get back in the
ranks.
The guns ceased at night, while the troops drew off to build fires, warm
their rigid fingers, thaw out their buffalo moccasins, and munch
crackers, leaving a strong guard around the Cheyennes. In the night
there was a shooting--the Indians had charged through and had gone.
The day following they were again surrounded on some bluffs, and the
battle waged until night. Next day there was a weak fire from the Indian
position on the impregnable bluffs, and presently it ceased entirely.
The place was approached with care and trepidation, but was empty. Two
Indian boys, with their feet frozen, had been left as decoys, and after
standing off four troops of cavalry for hours, they too had in some
mysterious way departed.
[Illustration: 16 THROUGH THE SMOKE SPRANG THE DARING SOLDIER]
But the pursuit was relentless; on, on over the rolling hills swept the
famishing troopers, and again the Spartan band turned at bay, firmly
intrenched on a bluff as before. This was the last stand--nature was
exhausted. The soldiers surrounded them, and Major Wessells turned the
handle of the human vise. The command gathered closer about the doomed
pits--they crawled on their bellies from one stack of sage-brush to the
next. They were freezing. The order to charge came to the Orphan Troop,
and yelling his command, Sergeant Johnson ran forward. Up from the
sage-brush floundered the stiffened troopers, following on. They ran
over three Indians, who lay sheltered in a little cut, and these killed
three soldiers together with an old frontier sergeant who wore long
hair, but they were destroyed in turn. While the Orphans swarmed under
the hill, a rattling discharge poured from the rifle-pits; but the troop
had gotten under the fire, and it all passed over their heads. On they
pressed, their blood now quickened by excitement, crawling up the steep,
while volley on volley poured over them. Within nine feet of the pits
was a rim-rock ledge over which the Indian bullets swept, and here the
charge was stopped. It now became a duel.
Every time a head showed on either side, it drew fire like a flue-hole.
Suddenly our Virginian sprang on the ledge, and like a trill on a piano
poured a six-shooter into the intrenchment, and dropped back.
Major Wessells, who was commanding the whole force, crawled to the
position of the Orphan Troop, saying, “Doing fine work, boys. Sergeant,
I would advise you to take off that red scarf “--when a bullet cut the
major across the breast, whirling him around and throwing him. A
soldier, one Lannon, sprang to him and pulled him down the bluff, the
major protesting that he was not wounded, which proved to be true, the
bullet having passed through his heavy clothes.
The troops had drawn up on the other sides, and a perfect storm of
bullets whirled over the in-trenchments. The powder blackened the faces
of the men, and they took off their caps or had them shot off. To raise
the head for more than a fraction of a second meant death.
Johnson had exchanged five shots with a fine-looking Cheyenne, and every
time he raised his eye to a level with the rock White Antelope's gun
winked at him.
“You will get killed directly,” yelled Lannon to Johnson; “they have you
spotted.”
The smoke blew and eddied over them; again Johnson rose, and again White
Antelope's pistol cracked an accompaniment to his own; but with movement
like lightning the sergeant sprang through the smoke, and fairly shoving
his carbine to White Antelope's breast, he pulled the trigger. A
50-calibre gun boomed in Johnson's face, and a volley roared from the
pits, but he fell backward into cover. His comrades set him up to see if
any red stains came through the grime, but he was unhurt.
[Illustration: 17 THIS TIME THE AIR GREW CLEAR]
The firing grew; a blue haze hung over the hill. Johnson again looked
across the glacis, but again his eye met the savage glare of White
Antelope.
“I haven't got him yet, Lannon, but I will;” and Sergeant Johnson again
slowly reloaded his pistol and carbine.
“Now, men, give them a volley!” ordered the enraged man, and as volley
answered volley, through the smoke sprang the daring soldier, and
standing over White Antelope as the smoke swirled and almost hid him, he
poured his six balls into his enemy, and thus died one brave man at the
hands of another in fair battle. The sergeant leaped back and lay down
among the men, stunned by the concussions. He said he would do no more.
His mercurial temperament had undergone a change, or, to put it better,
he conceived it to be outrageous to fight these poor people, five
against one. He characterized it as “a d---- infantry fight,” and
rising, talked in Sioux to the enemy--asked them to surrender, or they
must otherwise die. A young girl answered him, and said they would like
to. An old woman sprang on her and cut her throat with a dull knife,
yelling meanwhile to the soldiers that “they would never surrender
alive,” and saying what she had done.
Many soldiers were being killed, and the fire from the pits grew weaker.
The men were beside themselves with rage. “Charge!” rang through the now
still air from some strong voice, and, with a volley, over the works
poured the troops, with six-shooters going, and clubbed carbines. Yells,
explosions, and amid a whirlwind of smoke the soldiers and Indians
swayed about, now more slowly and quieter, until the smoke eddied away.
Men stood still, peering about with wild open eyes through blackened
faces. They held desperately to their weapons. An old bunch of buckskin
rags rose slowly and fired a carbine aimlessly. Twenty bullets rolled
and tumbled it along the ground, and again the smoke drifted off the
mount. This time the air grew clear. Buffalo-robes lay all about, blood
spotted everywhere. The dead bodies of thirty-two Cheyennes lay, writhed
and twisted, on the packed snow, and among them many women and children,
cut and furrowed with lead. In a corner was a pile of wounded squaws,
half covered with dirt swept over them by the storm of bullets. One
broken creature half raised herself from the bunch. A maddened trumpeter
threw up his gun to shoot, but Sergeant Johnson leaped and kicked his
gun out of his hands high into the air, saying, “This fight is over.”
THE SPIRIT OF MAHONGUI
IT is so I have called this old document, which is an extract from the
memoirs of le Chevalier Bailloquet, a Frenchman living in Canada, where
he was engaged in the Indian fur trade, about the middle of the
seventeenth century, and as yet they are unpublished.
It is written in English, since the author lived his latter life in
England, having left Canada as the result of troubles with the
authorities.
He was captured by the Iroquois, and after living with them some time,
made his escape to the Dutch.
My Chevalier rambles somewhat, although I have been at pains to cut out
extraneous matter. It is also true that many will not believe him in
these days, for out of their puny volition they will analyze, and out of
their discontent they will scoff. But to those I say, Go to your
microbes, your statistics, your volts, and your bicycles, and leave me
the truth of other days.
[Illustration: 18 THIS WAS A FATAL EMBARQUATION]
The Chevalier was on a voyage from Quebec to Montreal; let him begin:
The next day we embarqued, though not without confusion, because many
weare not content, nor satisfied. What a pleasure ye two fathers to see
them trott up and downe ye rocks to gett their manage into ye boat. The
boats weare so loaded that many could not proceed if foul weather should
happen. I could not persuade myself to stay with this concourse as ye
weather was faire for my journie. Without adoe, I gott my six wild men
to paddle on ye way.
This was a fatal embarquation, butt I did not mistrust that ye Iriquoits
weare abroad in ye forest, for I had been at ye Peace. Nevertheless I
find that these wild men doe naught butt what they resolve out of their
bloodie mindedness. We passed the Point going out of ye Lake St. Peter,
when ye Barbars appeared on ye watter-side discharging their muskets at
us, and embarquing for our pursuit.
“Kohe--kohe!”--came nearer ye fearsome warre cry of ye Iriquoit, making
ye hearts of ye poore Hurron & ffrench alike to turn to water in their
breasts. 2 of my savages weare strook downe at ye first discharge &
another had his paddle cutt in twain, besides shott holes through with
the watter poured apace. Thus weare we diminished and could not draw
off.
The Barbars weare daubed with paint, which is ye signe of warre. They
coming against our boat struck downe our Hurrons with hattchetts, such
as did not jump into the watter, where also they weare in no wise saved.
But in my boat was a Hurron Captayne, who all his life-time had killed
many Iriquoits & by his name for vallor had come to be a great Captayne
att home and abroad. We weare resolved some execution & with our gunns
dealt a discharge & drew our cutlasses to strike ye foe. They environed
us as we weare sinking, and one spake saying--“Brothers, cheere up and
assure yourselfe you shall not be killed; thou art both men and
Cap-taynes, as I myself am, and I will die in thy defense.” And ye
afforesaid crew shewed such a horrid noise, of a sudden ye Iriquoit
Captayne took hold about me--“Thou shalt not die by another hand than
mine.”
Ye savages layd bye our armes & tyed us fast in a boat, one in one boat
and one in another. We proceeded up ye river, rather sleeping than
awake, for I thought never to escape.
Att near sunsett we weare taken on ye shore, where ye wild men encamped
bye making cottages of rind from off ye trees. They tyed ye Hurron
Captayne to a trunk, he resolving most bravely but dessparred to me, and
I too dessparred. Nevertheless he sang his fatal song though ye fire
made him as one with the ague. They tooke out his heart and cut off some
of ye flesh of ye miserable, boyled it and eat it. This they wished not
to doe att this time, but that ye Hurron had been shott with a ball
under his girdle where it was not seen, though he would have died of his
desperate wound. That was the miserable end of that wretch.
Whilst they weare busy with ye Hurron, they having stripped me naked,
tyed me above ye elbows, and wrought a rope about my middle. They afked
me several questions, I not being able to answer, they gave me great
blows with their fists, then pulled out one of my nails. Having lost all
hopes, I resolved altogether to die, itt being folly to think otherwise.
I could not flee, butt was flung into a boat att daylight. Ye boats went
all abreaft, ye wild men singing some of their fatal songs, others their
howls of victory, ye wild “Kohes,” beating giens & parchments, blowing
whistles, and all manner of tumult.
Thus did we proceed with these ravening wolves, God having delivered a
Chriftian into ye power of Satan.
I was nott ye only one in ye claws of these wolves, for we fell in with
150 more of these cruels, who had Hurron captyves to ye number of 33
victimes, with heads alsoe stuck on poles, of those who in God's mercie
weare gone from their miseries. As for me, I was put in a boat with one
who had his fingers cutt & bourned. I asked him why ye Iriquoits had
broak ye Peace, and he said they had told him ye ffrench had broak ye
Peace; that ye ffrench had set their pack of doggs on an olde Iriquoit
woman who was eat up alive & that ye Iriquoits had told ye Hurron wild
men that they had killed ye doggs, alsoe Hurrons and ffrench, saying
that as to ye captyves, they would boyl doggs, Hurrons, and ffrench in
ye same kettle.
A great rain arose, ye Iriquoits going to ye watter-side did cover
themselvs with their boats, holding ye captyves ye meanwhile bye ropes
bound about our ancles, while we stood out in ye storm, which was near
to causing me death from my nakedness. When ye rain had abated, we
pursued our way killing staggs, & I was given some entrails, which
before I had only a little parched corne to ye extent of my handfull.
At a point we mett a gang of ye head hunters all on ye shore, dancing
about a tree to which was tyed a fine ffrench mastiff dogg, which was
standing on its hinder leggs, being lashed up against a tree by its
middle. Ye dogg was in a great terror, and frantic in its bonds. I knew
him for a dogg from ye fort att Mont-royal, kept for to give warnings of
ye Enemy's approach. It was a strange sight for to see ye Heathen rage
about ye noble dogg, but he itt was nevertheless which brought ye
Barbars against us. He was only gott with great difficulty, having
killed one Barbar, and near to serving others like-wise.
They untyed ye dogg, I holding him one side, and ye other, with cords
they brought and tyed him in ye bow of a boat with 6 warriors to paddle
him. Ye dogg boat was ye Head, while ye rest came on up ye river singing
fatal songs, triumph songs, piping, howling, & ye dogg above all with
his great noise. Ye Barbars weare more delighted att ye captyve dogg
than att all of us poore Christians, for that they did say he was no
dogg. Ye doggs which ye wild men have are nott so great as wolves, they
being little else & small att that. Ye mastiff was considered as a
consequence to be a great interest. This one had near defeated their
troupe & now was to be horridly killed after ye bloody way of ye wild
men.
Att camp they weare sleep most of ye night, they being aweary with ye
torture of ye Hurron Captayne previously. Ye dogg was tyed & layd nott
far off from where I was alsoe tyed, butt over him weare 2 olde men, who
guarded him of a fear he would eat away his ropes. These men weare
Elders or Priests, such as are esteemed for their power over spirits, &
they did keep up their devil's song ye night thro.
I made a vertue of necessity & did sleep, butt was early cast into a
boat to go on towards ye Enemy's countrie, tho we had raw meat given us,
with blows on ye mouth to make us ye more quickly devour itt. An
Iriquoit who was the Captayne in our boat, bade me to be of a good
courage, as they would not hurt me. Ye fmall knowledge I had of their
speech made a better hope, butt one who could have understood them would
have been certainly in a great terror.
Thus we journied 8 days on ye Lake Champlaine, where ye wind and waves
did sore beset our endeavors att times. As for meate we wanted none, as
we had a store of staggs along ye watter-side. We killed some every day,
more for sport than for need. We finding them on Isles, made them go
into ye watter, & after we killed above a score, we clipped ye ears of
ye rest & hung bells on them, and then lett them loose. What a sport to
see ye rest flye from them that had ye bells!
There came out of ye vast forest a multitude of bears, 300 at least
together, making a horrid noise, breaking ye small trees. We shott att
them, butt they stirred not a step. We weare much frightened that they
stirred nott att our shooting. Ye great ffrench dogg would fain
encounter them notwithftanding he was tyed. He made ye watter-side to
ring with his heavy voise & from his eyes came flames of fyre & clouds
from out his mouth. The bears did straightway fly which much cheered ye
Iri-quoits. One said to me they weare resolved nott to murder ye dogg,
which was a stone-God in ye dogg shape, or a witch, butt I could nott
fully understand. Ye wild men said they had never heard their fathers
speak of so many bears.