The geology of this region has been very partially explored, but appears

to be quite simple. The following description of the section along the

line of the Kansas Pacific Railroad, will probably apply to similar

sections north and south of it. The formations referable to the

cretaceous period on this line, are those called by Messrs. Meek and

Hayden the Dakota, Benton, and Niobrara groups, as Nos. 1, 2 and 3.

According to Leconte,[3] at Salina, one hundred and eighty-five miles

west of the State line of Missouri, the rocks of the Dakota group

constitute the bluffs, and continue to do so as far as Fort Harker,

thirty-three miles farther west. They are a "coarse brown sand-stone,

containing irregular concretions of oxide of iron," and numerous

molluscs of marine origin. Near Fort Harker, certain strata contain

large quantities of the remains (leaves chiefly) of dicotyledonous and

other forms of land vegetation. Near this point, according to the same

authority, the sand-stone beds are covered with clay and limestone.

These he does not identify, but portions of it from Bunker Hill,

thirty-four miles west, have been identified by Dr. Hayden, as belonging

to the Benton or second group. The specimen consisted of a block of

dark, bluish-gray clay rock, which bore the remains of the fish

_Apsopelix sauriformis_ (Cope). That the eastern boundary of this bed is

very sinuous is rendered probable by its occurrence at Brookville,

eighteen miles to the eastward of Fort Harker, on the railroad. In

sinking a well at this point, the same soft, bluish clay rock was

traversed, and at a depth of about thirty feet a skeleton of a saurian

of the crocodilian order was encountered, the _Hyposaurus vebbii_

(Cope).

[3] Notes on the geology of the survey for the extension of the Union

Pacific Road E. D. from the Smoky Hill to the Rio Grande, by John L.

Leconte, M. D. Philadelphia, 1868.

The boundary line, or first appearance of the beds of the Niobrara

division, has not been pointed out, but at Fort Hays, seventy miles west

of Fort Harker, its rocks form the bluffs and outcrops every-where. From

Fort Hays to Fort Wallace, near the western boundary of the state, one

hundred and thirty-four miles beyond, the strata present a tolerably

uniform appearance. They consist of two portions; a lower, of

dark-bluish calcareo-argillaceous character, often thin-bedded; and a

superior, of yellow and whitish chalk, much more heavily bedded. Near

Fort Hays the best section may be seen, at a point eighteen miles north,

on the Saline river. Here the bluffs rise to a height of two hundred

feet, the yellow strata constituting the upper half. No fossils were

observed in the blue bed, but some moderate-sized _Ostreae_, frequently

broken, were not rare in the yellow. Half-way between this point and the

Fort, my friend, N. Daniels, of Hays, guided me to a denuded tract,

covered with the remains of huge oysters, some of which measured

twenty-seven inches in diameter. They exhibited concentric obtuse ridges

on the interior side, and a large basin-shaped area behind the hinge.

Fragments of fish vertebrae of _Anogmius_ type were also found here by

Dr. Janeway. These were exposed in the yellow bed. Several miles east of

the post, Dr. J. H. Janeway, Post Surgeon, pointed out to me an immense

accumulation of _Inoceramus problematicus_ in the blue stratum. This

species also occurred in abundance in the bluffs west of the Fort, which

were composed of the blue bed, capped by a thinner layer of the yellow.

Large globular or compound globular argillaceous concretions, coated

with gypsum, were abundant at this point.

Along the Smoky Hill River, thirty miles east of Fort Wallace, the south

bank descends gradually, while the north bank is bluffy. This, with

other indications, points to a gentle dip of the strata to the

north-west. The yellow bed is thin or wanting on the north bank of the

Smoky, and is not observable on the north fork of that river for twenty

miles northward or to beyond Sheridan Station, on the Kansas Pacific

Railroad. Two isolated hills, "The Twin Buttes," at the latter point are

composed of the blue bed, here very shaly to their summits. This is the

general character of the rock along and north of the railroad between

this point and Fort Wallace.

South of the river the yellow strata are more distinctly developed.

Butte Creek Valley, fifteen to eighteen miles to the south, is margined

by bluffs of from twenty to one hundred and fifty feet in height on its

southern side, while the northern rises gradually into the prairie.

These bluffs are of yellow chalk, except from ten to forty feet of blue

rock at the base, although many of the canyons are excavated in the

yellow rock exclusively. The bluffs of the upper portion of Butte Creek,

Fox, and Fossil Spring (five miles south) canyons, are of yellow chalk,

and reports of several persons stated that those of Beaver Creek, eight

miles south of Fossil Spring, are exclusively of this material. Those

near the mouth of Beaver Creek, on the Smoky, are of considerable

height, and appear at a distance to be of the same yellow chalk.

I found these two strata to be about equally fossilliferous, and I am

unable to establish any palaeontological difference between them. They

pass into each other by gradations in some places, and occasionally

present slight laminar alternations at their line of junction. I have

specimens of _Cimolichthys semianceps_ (Cope), from both the blue and

yellow beds, and vertebrae of the _Liodon glandiferus_ (Cope) were found

in both. The large fossil of _Liodon dyspelor_ (Cope) was found at the

junction of the bed, and the caudal portion was excavated from the blue

stratum exclusively. Portions of it were brought East in blocks of this

material, and these have become yellow and yellowish on many of the

exposed surfaces. The matrix adherent to all the bones has become

yellow. A second incomplete specimen, undistinguishable from this

species, was taken from the yellow bed.

As to mineral contents, the yellow stratum is remarkably uniform in its

character. The blue shale, on the contrary, frequently contains numerous

concretions, and great abundance of thin layers of gypsum and crystals

of the same. Near Sheridan concretions and septaria are abundant. In

some places the latter are of great size and, being embedded in the

stratum, have suffered denudation of their contents, and, the septa

standing out, form a huge honey-comb. This region and the neighborhood

of Eagle Tail, Colorado, are noted for the beauty of their

gypsum-crystals, the first abundantly found in the cretaceous formation.

These are hexagonal-radiate, each division being a pinnate or

feather-shaped lamina of twin rows of crystals. The clearness of the

mineral, and the regular leaf and feather forms of the crystals give

them much beauty. The bones of vertebrate fossils preserved in this bed

are often much injured by the gypsum formation which covers their

surface and often penetrates them in every direction.

The yellow bed of the Niobrara group disappears to the south-west, west,

and north-west of Fort Wallace, beneath a sandy conglomerate of

uncertain age. Its color is light, sometimes white, and the component

pebbles are small and mostly of white quartz. The rock wears irregularly

into holes and fissures, and the soil covering it generally thin and

poor. It is readily detached in large masses, which roll down the

bluffs. No traces of life were observed in it, but it is probably the

eastern margin of the southern extension of the White River Miocene

Tertiary stratum. This is at least indicated by Dr. Hayden, in his

geological preface to Leidy's extinct mammals of Dakota and Nebraska.

Commercially, the beds of the Niobrara formation possess little value,

except when burned for manure. The yellow chalk is too soft in many

places for buildings of large size, but will answer well for those of

moderate size. It is rather harder at Fort Hays, as I had occasion to

observe at their quarry. That quarried at Fort Wallace does not appear

to harden by exposure; the walls of the hospital, noted by Leconte on

his visit, remained in 1871 as soft as they were in 1867. A few

worthless beds of bituminous shale were observed in Eastern Colorado.

The only traces of Glacial Action in the line explored were seen near

Topeka. South of the town are several large, erratic masses of pink and

bloody quartz, whose surfaces are so polished as to appear as though

vitrified. They were transported, perhaps, from the Azoic area near Lake

Superior.

CHAPTER XXV.

A SAVAGE OUTBREAK--THE BATTLE OF THE FORTY SCOUTS--THE

SURPRISE--PACK-MULES STAMPEDED--DEATH ON THE ARICKEREE--THE

MEDICINE MAN--A DISMAL NIGHT--MESSENGERS SENT TO WALLACE--MORNING

ATTACK--WHOSE FUNERAL?--RELIEF AT LAST--THE OLD SCOUTS' DEVOTION TO

THE BLUE.

On our return to Sheridan we were deeply pained to hear of the sad death

of Doctor Moore and Lieutenant Beecher, whose acquaintance we had formed

at Fort Hays, and the former of whom we had learned to esteem most

highly as a personal friend. A scouting party, not long before, had left

the post just named, under the command of General Forsythe, of

Sheridan's staff, and composed principally of those citizens who had

seen frontier service. Dr. Moore accompanied it as surgeon, and Lieut.

Beecher--a nephew of Henry Ward Beecher, and an officer of the regular

army--held the position of chief of scouts, which he had filled for some

time previously with much credit. The savages of the plains being again

upon the war-path, that brave and well-organized little party of fifty

were dispatched to pursue a band of Indians, which had appeared before

Sheridan and run off a lot of stock.

Some of the scouts were now in the town, and from one of them we

obtained an account of the expedition. Fresh from the mouth of that

sandy hell in the river's head, which had sucked out the life-blood of

so many of his companions, I wish my readers could have heard the story

told with the rude eloquence in which he clothed it. As it is, how

nearly they will come to doing so, must perforce depend on how nearly I

can remember his language.

"You see, captain," he began (it is considered impolite among this class

ever to address one without using some title), "we had the nicest little

forty lot o' scouts that ever followed the plains fur a living, and

trails fur an Injun. Thar wur ingineers, doctors, counter-jumpers, and a

few deadbeats, but every one of 'em had lots of fight, and not the least

bit of scare. Ther talents run ter fightin', an' ther bodies never run

away from it.

"It wur kinder curious, though, to see the chaps that wur not bred ter

ther business git along. They wur the profession folks. Some had a

little compass, not much bigger 'n a button, that they carried on the

sly. Good scouts don't need no such fixin's. These uns 'ud reach inter

ther pockets, as if they was going ter take a chaw o' terbaccer, and

gettin' a sly wink at ther needle, would cry out ter ther neighbors, 'I

say, hoss, we 're goin' a little too much east of north!' or, 'I tell

yer what, fel, we 're at least two p'ints off our course.' And all ther

time they couldn't have told south from west, without them needles. But

ther warn't a coward in the whole pack. Every one had a back as stiff

fur a fight as a cat.

"We struck a large Injun trail the fourth day out, and kept it till

evenin', but no other sign showed itself over ther wide reach that would

have told a livin' bein' had ever bin thar before us. Next mornin',

early, ther was a sudden fuss among our horses, and a cry from the

guard, and, afore we knew it, eight pack-mules had been stampeded, and

driven off. It wur a narrow call fur ther whole herd.

"The fellers had come down a ravine until they got close enough, and,

then suddenly rushin' along in the grayness, set the mules inter a crazy

run, and gathered 'em up, out of gun-shot. You may lick a pack-mule

along all day, and be afraid he 'll drop down dead, and yet give him a

fair chance to stampede, and he 'll outrun an elk, and grow fat on it.

"Stock and Injuns was both out of sight in a jiffy, and the order was

given to saddle, and recapture. We were just raisin' inter ther

stirrups, when some of the boys called out, and we saw the whole valley

ahead of us filled with Injuns comin' down. Ther warn't no mules lost

just then, and we kinder fell back onto a sort of high-water island in

the Arickeree. That, yer know, is the dry fork of the Republican. Bein'

low water then, as it is most of the time thar, nothin' but a dry bed of

sand was on each side.

"It seemed as if the whole Injun nation was coming down on us. Such a

crowd o' lank ponies, and painted heathen astride, yer never see. I

expected seein' of 'em would prevent _my_ ever seein' of my family agin.

'Jim,' says I to my chum, and 'Bill,' says he to me, and then we didn't

say nothin' more, but as the heathen come a chargin', we both put a hand

in our pockets, just as if the brains had been in one head, and then

both of us took a chaw o' terbaccer.

"For the next few hours ther wur an awful scrimmage, and a shootin', and

a hollerin', and a whizzin' of bullets, which made that the hottest

little island ever stranded on sand. The boys had all dug out, with

their hands, sort o' little rifle-pits, and fit behind 'em. We had good

Spencers, with a few Henrys, and the way those patents spit lead at the

devils' hearts wur a caution. The first charge, they cum close up to us,

and for a hull minnit, that stretched out awfully, we were afraid they'd

ride us down. It was reg'lar coffee-mill work then, grindin' away at the

levers, and we flung bullets among 'em astonishin'. As fast as one Injun

keeled, another'd pick him up, and nary dead was left on the field.

"They follered up the charge game by a siege one, and peppered away at

us from the neighborin' ravines and hills. Ther number wur about eight

hundred, and some had carbines, and others old rifles and pistols. A few

would sneak along in the bottom grass, and get behind trees, and then

thur would be a flash, and a crack, and the ball would come tearin' in

among us, sometimes burrowin' in a human skull, or elsewise knockin'

down a horse. And all around, on the ridges, the squaws were a dancin'

and shoutin', and the braves, whenever any of 'em got tired of shootin',

would join their ugly she's, and help 'em in kickin' up a hullabaloo.

"I reckon, arter they'd killed the last hoss, they must ha' had a

separate scalp-dance fur each one on us. Plain sailin' then, ther red

fellows thought--less than fifty white men down in the sand, and most a

thousan' Injuns roun' 'em, and more 'n a hundred miles to the nearest

fort; the weaker party bein' afoot, too, and the other mounted.

"But we soon made 'em pitch another tune, beside ther juberlatin' one.

We had took notice of a big Injun, with lots o' fixins on him, cavortin'

all round ther island, and a spurrin' up the braves. We made certain it

wur the medicine man, and found out arterward that he'd been tellin' on

'em ther pale-faces' bullets would melt before reachin' an Injun. Six on

us got our rifles together, and as ther old copper-colored Pillgarlic

cum dancin' round, we let fly. If Injun carcasses go along with ther

spirits, I reckon ther bullets we put into the old sinner, got melted,

sure enough. And what a howlin' thur was, as his pony scampered in among

the squaws, empty saddled!

"It wur an awful sight to look roun' among our little sand-works--twenty

killed and wounded men, covered with blood and grit. Our leader, Col.

Forsythe, was shot in both legs, a ball passin' through the thigh part

of one, and a second breakin' the bones of the other below the knee. He

wur a knowin' and cool officer.

"Lieut. Beecher, a nephew of the big preacher, was shot through the

small o' the back, and lay thar beggin' us to kill him. He too wur a

brave man, and didn't flinch, never, from duty nor danger. They say that

his two sisters were drowned from a sailboat on the Hudson, two years

ago, and that the old parents are left now all alone. Doc. Moore was

shot through the head, and sat thar noddin', and not knowin' no one. I

spoke to him once, and he kinder started back, as if he see the Injun

which shot him, still thar. He wur a good surgeon, and all the boys

liked him. I hev got his gun down at my tent, all full o' sand, whar it

got tramped arter he fell.[4]

[4] I obtained the weapon that I had loaned our friend, and have

carefully kept it since, as a memento.

"Culver lay dead on one side of our little island, shot by an Injun that

crawled up in the grass. Lots o' others was wounded, and our chances

looked as dark as ther night which wur coming down on us. But we was

glad ter see daylight burn out, as it kinder gin us a chance to rest and

think.

"That night was awful dismal. The little spot o' sand, down thar in the

river's bed, seemed ther only piece o' earth friendly to us, and we were

clingin' to it like sailors ter a raft at sea. The darkness all around

was a gapin' ter swaller us, and a hidin' its blood-hounds, to set 'em

on with ther sun. Night, without any thin' in it more 'n grave-stones,

is terrifyin' to most people, but just you fill it full of pantin's for

blood in front, and Death sittin' behind, among the corpses, and

watchin' the wounded, and a feller's blood falls right down to January.

It kinder thickens, like water freezin' round the edges, and your hands

and feet get powerful cold, and you feel as if you wouldn't ever be

thawed out, this side of the very place you don't want ter go to.

"Toward midnight, Stillwell and Trudell crawled out o' camp, to go for

relief. They were to creep and sneak through the Injun lines, and get

beyond 'em by daylight. Then they would lay by, and push on ag'in, when

dark cum, toward Wallace. That little spot of barracks, a hundred and

twenty-five miles off, kept up our hope mightily. It was our

light-house, like. We were shipwrecked among savages, and had sent a

couple of yawls off, to tell the keeper thar of danger. We knew if the

news reached, blue coats would flash out to us, like spots of light, and

our foes go before 'em as mist.

"But footin' it nights, and layin' by days, fur over a hundred miles,

through Injun country, is slow work, and we didn't, most on us, expect

much; and our hearts follered the little black spots, showin' us our two

companions a creepin' off into darkness, like a couple of wolves. It

took good men, too, from our little party, and fur awhile I was

faint-hearted. In our shipwreck, it seemed like takin' bottles which

might ha' helped to hold out, and flingin' 'em into ther waves, with

messages tellin' how and whar we went down.

"About two o'clock Lieut. Beecher died, havin' for some time begged the

men to end his sufferin's by shootin' of him.

"We all kept perfect quiet that night--no fire, nor wur ther a sound

heard, from our little island, by the heathen on the bluffs. An just

that quietness gave 'em the worst foolin' they ever had. It seems the

road down river had been left open by 'em, hopin' we would steal out and

run for it durin' the night. We bein' all on foot, they could overtake

us in the mornin', and worry on us out easy. Durin' the dark we waited

quiet, and watched, and passed water to our wounded, and sprinkled it

over some of 'em who couldn't drink.

"It wer just kinder palin' like way up in the sky, and we could see that

off down East, somewhar, ther mornin' was commencin' ter climb, when Jim

nudged me, and says, 'Chum, what's that?' We both stuck our ears right

up, like two jackass-rabbits, and listened. It wur all dark near the

ground, but we could hear a steady, gallopin' sound, comin' in toward us

from up the ravines, and over the hills. It wur like a beatin' of ther

earth with flails by threshers you couldn't see.

"The sound came a creepin' along the sod so quick we soon knew it wur

the Injuns, on ther ponies, comin' down ter pick up the trail. And now

we could see 'em a bobbin' along toward us in ther gloom, the rows er

ugly heads goin' up and down, like jumpin'-jacks. It just seemed as ther

side er ther night had been painted all full o' gapin' red devils, and

ther sun wur jest revealin' on 'em. 'Lay still!' wer the word, and each

man hugged his sand bank, just a skinnin' one eye, like a lizard over a

log. They 'd no idee we were thar, not bein' able to understand the grit

of that little forty, and they cum gallopin' along, careless-like, happy

as so many ghosts goin' ter a fun'ral. But it warn't _our_ fun'ral just

then. When they 'd got so close we could smell 'em, colonel guv the word

ter fire, and we let 'em have it. Stranger, you ain't no idee what a

gettin' up bluffs, and general absentin' of 'emselves ther wur. Arter

the fust crack, yer couldn't see an Injun at all, but jest a lot er

ponies, diggin' it on ther back track, and you knowed painted cusses

wer glued ter ther opposite side on 'em.

"We had fightin' until night ag'in, but no men were killed arter the

fust day. The savages were cautious-like, and took long range fur it. We

now commenced cuttin' off the hind quarters of our dead hosses, and

boilin' small pieces in a empty pickle-jar belongin' ter ther colonel.

Burke, he 'd dug a shallow well, too, which gave us plenty of water.

Hoss meat isn't relishin' at fust. One kin eat it, but, as ther feller

said about crow, he don't hanker arter it. Ther gases had got all

through ther carcasses, and we had ter sprinkle lots o' gunpowder inter

the pot, to kill the taste.

"The fust hoss cut up was my old sorrel. He didn't go well while livin',

and couldn't be expected to when dead. Instead of takin' a straight

course, and givin' some satisfaction, he jumped across all the turns

inside o' me, and brought up bump agin my hide, as if he wer comin'

through. He had that same trick o' cuttin' corners when livin', and I

perceded ter give him up as a uncontrollable piece of hoss flesh.

"When night come on agin, Pliley and Whitney attempted ter get through

ther Injun lines and make fur Wallace, but were driven back. Fur ther

next few days we kept eatin' hoss flesh, and fightin' occasionally. The

third night Pliley and Donovan succeeded in gettin' away.

"On the fourth day, Doctor Moore died. After the fifth, no Injuns was

visible, and we gathered prickly pears and eat 'em, boilin' some down

inter syrup. Our mouths were all full of ther little needles, and it

wer mighty hard keepin' a stiff upper lip. We were eatin' away on our

forty-eight horses, and watchin' and hopin'. We couldn't move, and leave

our wounded, or the Injuns would be on 'em right off. The poor fellows

had no surgeon, and were sufferin' terrible as 't was.

"Ther mornin' of ther ninth day broke with a cry of 'Injuns!' Now, human

natur' can't stand fitin' allers. To carry out my shipwreck idee,

fellers on a raft kin cling an' swaller water fur awhile, but they can't

fight a hull grist o' hurricanes. Hoss meat an' prickly pears ain't jest

ther thing, either, to slap grit inter a man. Ther were a big crowd

comin', sure enough, way off on ther hills. We were kinder beginnin' ter

despond, when a familiar sort o' motion on the fur dark line spelt in

air the word, 'Friend!' It wer the advanced guard o' relief, approachin'

on ther jump. Why, boy"--and the old scout seized hold of Semi, and

shook him in excitement--"talk of Lucknow and ther camels a comin', they

warn't nowhar. The blessed old blue cloth! If yer want ter love a color,

jest get saved by it once. When I get holed in ther earth, I 'll take

back ter dust on a blue blanket, an' if I get married afore, gal an'

I'll wear blue, an' the preacher'll hev ter swar a blue streak in jinin'

us!"

We afterward met others of the scouts--intelligent, clear-headed

fellows, with much more of cultivation than our rough friend

possessed--and they corroborated his story in every particular. I have

let him tell it in his own way, not only because vastly more graphic

than any words of mine could be, but also to the end that the reader

might become acquainted with a genuine frontiersman--one of that class

which is wheeling into line with the immense multitudes of Indians and

buffalo that time and civilization are bearing swiftly onward to hide

among the memories of the past.

That the savages suffered very severely in their several attacks upon

that little band of heroes on the Arickeree, was evident from the number

of bodies found by the relief, as it hastened forward from Fort Wallace.

The corpses were resting on hastily-constructed scaffolds, and some had

evidently been placed there while dying, as the ground underneath was

yet wet with blood.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE STAGE DRIVERS OF THE PLAINS--OLD BOB--"JAMAICA AND GINGER"--AN

OLD ACQUAINTANCE--BEADS OF THE PAST--ROBBING THE DEAD--A LEAF FROM

THE LOST HISTORY OF THE MOUND BUILDERS--INDIAN

TRADITIONS--SPECULATIONS--ADOBE HOUSES IN A RAIN--CHEAP

LIVING--WATCH TOWERS.

The stage drivers of the plains are rapidly becoming another inheritance

of the past, pushed out of existence by the locomotive, whose

cow-catcher is continually tossing them from their high seats into the

arms of History. What a rare set they are, though! No two that I ever

saw were nearly alike, and they resemble not one distinctive class, but

a number. The Jehus who crack their whips over the buffalo grass region,

and turn their leaders artistically around sharp corners in rude towns,

are made up on a variety of patterns. Some are loquacious and others

silent, and while a portion are given to profanity, another though

smaller number are men of very proper grammar. Some with whom I have

ridden would discount truth for the mere love of the exercise, while

others I have found so particular that they could not be induced to lie,

except when it was for their interest to do so.

In a village on the shores of Lake Champlain, in the frozen regions of

northern New York, where mercury becomes solid in November, and remains

so until May, I got on intimate terms, when a boy, with a stage driver.

During the long winters the coaches were placed on sleds, and well do I

remember the style in which "Old Bob," as he was universally called,

would come dashing into the town on frosty mornings, winding uncertain

tunes out of a brass horn, given him years before by a General Somebody,

of the State Militia. In front of the long-porched tavern, the leaders

would push out to the left, in order to give due magnificence to the

right hand circle, which deposited the coach at the bar room door.

Bearish in fur, and sour in face, Bob would then roll from the seat,

rush up to the bar, and for the first time open his mouth, to ejaculate,

"Jamaica and ginger!" The fiery draught would thaw out his tongue, as

hot water does a pump, and after that it was easy work to pump him dry

of any and all news on the line above.

That was many years ago, and in a spot half a continent away. One

morning, while at Sheridan, I heard the blast of a horn up the street,

whose notes awakened echoes which had long lain dead and buried in

boyhood's memory. A moment more, and out from an avenue of saloons the

overland stage rattled, and on its box sat the friend of my childhood,

"Old Bob." He had the identical horn, and it was the identical tune,

which I had so often heard in the by-gone years, the only difference

being that both were cracked, and the lungs behind the mouth-piece,

touched by the winters of sixty-odd, wheezed a little. As the coach came

to the door, I jumped up by the "boot," and grasping the old fellow's

hand, introduced myself. Old Bob rubbed his eyes, which were weak and

watery, and scanned me closely.

"Well, well, lad," he said, "your face takes me now, sure enough. I mind

your father and mother well, and you're the little rascal that stole my

whip once, when I was thawing out with Jamaica and ginger. Did you tell

me by the old tune? You did, eh? Well, truth is, lad, the horn won't

blow any other. It's got to running in that groove, and when I try to

coax any thing new out, it sets off so that it frightens the horses."

The coach was now ready for starting, and, as he gathered up the reins,

my friend of auld lang syne called out to me, "When you get back to York

State, if you see any Rouse's Point people that ask for Old Bob, tell

them he doesn't take any Jamaica and ginger now. Tell them he's out on

the plains, tryin' to get back some of the life the cussed stuff burnt

out of him." And away the stage coach rattled, and soon was out of

hearing.

Next day's down stage brought intelligence that Bob's coach had been

attacked by Indians, but the old fellow had handled his lines right

skillfully, and brought mails and passengers through in safety.

Our last day at Sheridan, for the Professor, was marked by two important

events, namely: a communication from the living present, and another

from the dead past. The first came, as the postmark showed, by way of

Lindsey, on the Solomon river. The Professor said it was simply an

answer to some scientific inquiries, but, to our intense amusement, he

blushed like a school-girl when Sachem bluntly remarked that the

handwriting was feminine, and that the scientific information in

question must certainly be contraband, as it was not offered for our

benefit at all.

A geologist in love is a phenomenon. The dusty museum is no place for

Cupid. In his flights, the mischievous boy is apt to hit his head

against fossil lizards, and his darts are intercepted by skulls which

were petrified before he ever wandered through Paradise and tried his

first barb on poor Adam. The atmosphere which inwraps the geologist

comes from an unlovable age, in which monstrosities existed only by

virtue of their expertness in devouring other monstrosities. No stray

spark of love-light flickered, even for an instant, over that waste of

waters and gigantic ferns.

It was apparent that science would suffer, unless the Solomon river was

included in our homeward route. We had examined the heart of Buffalo

Land, having traversed its center from east to west, and our party was

disposed to oblige the Professor by returning along the northern border.

Southward two hundred miles was the Arkansas, flowing near the southern

limit of the buffalo region. While there were some reasons why we

desired to visit it, and though it was, perhaps, equally rich in game,

it promised nothing of greater interest, upon the whole, than the

district we now proposed traversing. But of this more in the next

chapter.

Toward evening came our introduction to what we were pleased to imagine

was a beauty of the past, which happened thus: As we were wandering

among the Mexican teamsters loafing around the depot, an urchin, with

half a shirt and very crooked legs, ran up to us, and exclaimed, over a

half masticated morsel of cheese, "Mister, there's a bufferler!" His

crumby fingers pointed in a direction midway between the horizon and a

Mexican donkey, which its owner was trying to drag across the valley,

and there, true enough, on the side of a brown ridge, not a mile off, we

saw the game, feeding as usual.

Here was a chance for horseback hunting again, which we had not

attempted for several days. And what a splendid opportunity of showing

the natives how well we could do the thing! Our wagons had groaned under

the burden of pelts and meats with which we had loaded them, and we were

suffering just then from that dangerous confidence which first success

is so apt to inspire.

Half the pleasure of hunting, if sportsmen would but confess it,

consists in showing one's trophies to others. It was not at all

surprising, therefore, that the send-off found two-thirds of our force

in the field. The day was warm, and, though the hunters ran far and

fast, the bison went still further and faster, and escaped. He led us,

however, to greater spoil than his own tough carcass; for underneath the

sod which his hoofs spurned, lay a treasure which glittered as

temptingly to geological eyes as gold to the miner, when first struck by

his prospecting pick.

The Professor trotted out of town with becoming dignity, following the

hunters merely to avail himself of their protection, while examining

the ridges around. A mile out, the heat and his rough-paced nag proved

too much for him, and he threw himself upon the ground for a rest. Lying

there, watching idly the little insects wandering about, his attention

was attracted to a colony of burrowing ants, who, with a hole in the

earth half an inch in diameter, were continually coming up, rolling

before them small grains of sand and pebbles, the latter obtained far

below, and a small mound of them already showing the extent of their

patient labors. The Professor began to mark more closely the tiny

builders, imagining that he could distinguish one of the citizens going

down, and recognize him again as he came up again with his burden from

below.

Occasionally, it seemed to the observant savan, something blue was

brought out, which glittered more than sand. Looking closer, he

discovered that the shining particles were beads of some bright

substance, and resembling exactly those worn by the Indians of to-day.

It thrilled him, as if he had been brought face to face with the far-off

ages, when the world was young. Beneath, evidently, lay the dead of some

forgotten tribe, and horse and man were resting upon a place of

sepulcher. There was no mound to mark the spot, and if any ever existed,

the seasons of ages had obliterated it. The savage races which now roam

the plains never bury their dead, but lay the bodies on scaffolds, or

hang them in trees. And so these little ants, robbing the graves far

beneath us, were bringing to our gaze, on a bright summer day in the

Nineteenth Century, the mysteries of ages already hoary with antiquity

when Columbus first saw our shores.

We found ourselves wondering to what race the hidden dead belonged, and

whether the unpictured maidens of those days were pleasant to look upon,

or true ancestors of the hideous and unromantic creatures who, with

their savage lords, now roam the plains. Thinking of the tribes of the

past brought those of the present to mind, and, not wishing to have our

hair presented as tribute to some maiden wooed by treacherous Cheyenne,

we turned our horses' heads homeward, bringing the beads with us, safely

deposited in one of our entomologist's pocket-cases. They remain among

the trophies of our expedition, and Mr. Colon has lately written me that

he will have an excavation made, during the present year, at the spot

where they were found.

These beads, I can not but think, form one link in a chain connecting an

ancient people, perhaps the mound-builders, with the savage tribes of

the present. There is a tradition among some of the Western Indians

that, centuries ago, a people, different in language and form from the

red men, came from over the seas to trade beads for ponies. The

buffaloes were then larger, and the climate warmer, than now.

Dissensions finally arose, in which the strangers were killed. Is there

not reason to believe that this tradition gives us a glimpse of the time

when some of the large mammals still existed on the plains, and the

genial sun looked down upon pastures clothed in rich vegetation--a time

and region, probably, of perennial summer?

Once, during our stay in Kansas, we were directed by a hunter to a spot

where he had seen portions of an immense skeleton, and there found one

vertebra only remaining of a mastodon. It afterward transpired that,

shortly before our trip, some Indians had passed Fort Dodge with the

large bones lashed on their ponies, taking them to a medicine-lodge on

the Arkansas, to be ground up into good medicine. They stated that the

bones belonged to one of the big buffaloes which roamed over the plains

during the times of their fathers. At that period, the Happy Hunting

Ground was on earth, but was afterward removed beyond the clouds by the

Great Spirit, to punish his children for bad conduct.

Many reasons, besides dim traditions, exist for the belief that those

mysterious nations whose paths we have been able to trace from the

Atlantic west, and from the Pacific east, pushed inward until they met

in the middle of the continent. The numerous mounds in the Western

States, with the curious weapons and vessels which they contain, show

that the nations then existing, and migrating toward the interior, were

not only powerful but essentially unlike our modern Indians. To instance

but one illustration of this, there are near Titusville, Pa., ancient

oil wells, which bear unmistakable evidences of having been dug and

worked by the mound-builders. Thus they speculated in oil, which of

itself is a token of high civilization.

Coming east from the Pacific coast, we find existing on the very edge of

the desolate interior extensive ruins of ancient cities, of whose

builders even tradition gives no account. By these and other remains

which the gnawing tooth of Time has still spared to us, the people of

those days tell us that they were full of commercial energy; and who

knows but they may have been as determined as our nation has ever been,

to push trade across from ocean to ocean? It is highly probable also

that the Indians of the interior were then far superior to the present

tribes, as seems very fairly determined by many of the traditions and

customs which obtain among the latter.

In view of the foregoing considerations, it is not remarkable that the

beads, denoting, as they did, a place and manner of burial unlike that

of the savages of the plains, interested us so much. It was a leaf, we

could not but think, from the lost history of the mound-builders.

A noticeable feature of life on the plains is the sod-house, there

called an adobe, from some resemblance to the Mexican structures of

sun-dried brick. The walls of these primitive habitations are composed

of squares of buffalo-grass sod, laid tier upon tier, roots uppermost. A

few poles give support for a roof, and on these some hay or small brush

is laid. Then comes a foot of earth, and the covering is complete. When

well-constructed, these houses are water-proof, very warm in winter, and

cool in summer; but when the eaves have been made too short to protect

the walls, the latter are liable to dissolve under a heavy shower.

During a sudden rain at Sheridan, being obliged to turn out early one

morning to protect some goods, we discovered that the neighboring

habitation had resolved itself into a mound of dirt, resembling somewhat

a tropical ant-hill. We were still gazing at the ruins, when the owner,

clad in the brief garment of night-wear, came spluttering through the

roof, like a very dirty gnome discharged by a mud-volcano. While he

stood there in the rain, letting the falling flood cleanse him off, he

remarked, in a manner that for such an occasion was certainly rather

dry--"Lucky that houses are dirt-cheap here, stranger, for I reckon this

one 's sort o' washed!"

A person of small capital, as may readily be inferred, can live very

comfortably on the plains. His house may be built without nail or board,

and his meat may be obtained at no other expense than the trouble of

shooting it.

We saw many wooden buildings at the different stage stations, which had

subterranean communications with little sod watch-towers, rising a

couple of feet above the ground, at a distance of forty or fifty yards

from the main building. Loop-holes through their walls afforded

opportunities for firing, and if the wooden stations were burned, the

occupants could find a secure retreat. We heard of but one occasion in

which the tower was ever used, but then it was most effectively, the

savages, gathered close around the main building, being surprised and

put to sudden flight, by the murderous fire which seemed to spring out

of the ground at their rear.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OUR PROGRAMME CONCLUDED--FROM SHERIDAN TO THE SOLOMON--FIERCE

WINDS--A TERRIFIC STORM--SHAMUS' BLOODY APPARITION AND INDIAN

WITCH--A RECONNOISSANCE--AN INDIAN BURIAL GROVE--A CONTRACTOR'S

DARING AND ITS PENALTY--MORE VAGABONDIZING--JOSE AT THE LONG

BOW--THE "WILD HUNTRESS'" COUNTERPART--SHAMUS TREATS US TO

"CHILE"--THE RESULT.

"Gentlemen," said the Professor, next morning, at breakfast, "We have

well-nigh exhausted Buffalo Land. North of us some twenty miles, the

upper waters of the Solomon may be reached. I believe that district to

be rich in fossils; it is also interesting as the path over which the

red men have so often swept on their missions of murder. The valley

winds eastward and southward during its course, and will discharge us at

Solomon City, a point well back on our homeward journey. There our

expedition may fitly disband. Should it be considered desirable, during

the coming year, to explore the wild territories of the north-west, we

can meet at such place as may be designated. What say you?"

Our response was a unanimous vote in favor of accepting the programme

thus sketched out. Some of us desired the trip, and all knew that the

Professor would go at any rate.

Our path lay over the same undulating plain that we had been traversing

for many weeks, the wind blowing fiercely in our teeth. The violent

movement of the air over this vast surface is often unpleasant, and

during a severe winter is more dangerous than the intense cold of the

far north, as it penetrates through the thickest clothing. The winter of

1871-2, when numbers of hunters and herders were frozen to death,

illustrated this to a painful degree. The months of December and January

are usually mild, and no precautions were taken. On the morning of the

most fatal day, it was raining; in the afternoon, the wind veered and

blew cold from the north, the rain changing to sleet, and this, in turn,

to snow so blinding that objects became invisible at the distance of a

few feet.

After the storm, near Hays City, five men belonging to a wood-train were

found frozen to death. They had unloaded a portion of their wood, and

endeavored to keep up a fire, but the fierce wind blew the flames out,

snatching the coals from the logs, and flinging them into darkness. The

men seized their stores of bacon and piled them upon fresh kindling, but

even the inflammable fat was quenched almost instantly. One of another

party, who finally escaped the same sad fate, by finding a deserted

dugout, said it seemed as if invisible spirits seized the tongues of

flame and carried them, like torches, out into the awful blackness.

Thousands of Texas cattle perished during that storm. One herder, in

order to save his life, cut open a dying ox, and, after removing the

entrails, took his place inside the warm carcass.

We noted a curious incident, relative to the wind's fantastic freaks on

the plains, while at Sheridan. One day, during the prevalence of a north

wind, we observed all the old papers, cards, and other light rubbish

which ornament a frontier town, moving off to the south like flocks of

birds. Two days afterward, the wind changed, and the refuse all came

flying back again, and passed on to the northward.

On the first evening of our homeward journey from Sheridan, we encamped

on what appeared to be a small tributary of the upper Solomon. While the

tents were being pitched, and the necessary provisions unloaded, Shamus

strolled toward a clump of trees half a mile off, in hopes of securing a

wild turkey to add to his stores. He soon came running back in a great

fright, to tell us that, as he was passing among the trees, the black

pacer of the plains, with its bloody master in the saddle, had started

out of a bottom meadow just beyond, and fled away into the gloom. This

was a sufficiently ghostly tale in itself, but it was not all; Shamus

further averred that as he turned to fly, he saw a hideous Indian witch

swinging to and fro in a tree directly before him. The spot was

unwholesome, he assured us, and he urged instant removal.

It seemed evident that our cook had some foundation for his fears, as

his terror was too great and his account too circumstantial for the

matter to be simply one of an excited imagination. If there were Indians

close by, it was necessary that we should know it at once, and avoid the

danger of an attack at dawn. We organized a reconnoissance immediately,

and, six men strong, moved toward the timber. Scattering as much as

possible, that concealed savages might not have the advantage of a

bunch-shot, we cautiously reached the border of the trees, and entered

their shadows. We breathed more freely; if tree-fighting was to be

indulged in, we now had an equal chance. It is a trying experience,

reader, to advance within range of a supposed ambuscade, and the moment

when one reaches the cover unharmed is a blessed one. The logs and

stumps which seemed so hideous, when death was thought to be crouching

behind, suddenly glow with friendship, and one is glad to know that he

can hug such friends, should danger glare out from the bushes ahead.

As we walked forward, Shamus' witch suddenly appeared before us. It was

the body of a papoose, fastened in a tree.

The spot was evidently an Indian burying-ground. The corpse had been

loosened by the wind, and now rocked back and forth, staring at us. It

was dried by the air into a shriveled deformity, rendered doubly

grotesque by the beads and other articles with which it had been decked

when laid away. We had neither time nor inclination to explore the grove

for other bodies, preferring our supper and our blankets. As Shamus

stoutly held to the story of the phantom pacer, we were forced to

conclude that some stray Indian, from motives of either curiosity or

reverence, had been visiting the grove when frightened out of it by our

cook. In the gathering gloom, a red shirt or blanket would have

answered very well for bloody garments.

These burial spots are held in high reverence by the Indians, and their

hatred of the white man receives fresh fuel whenever the latter chops

down the sacred trees for cord-wood. On one occasion, a contractor

destroyed a burial grove, a few miles above Fort Wallace, to supply the

post with fuel. The first blow of the axe had scarcely fallen upon the

tree, when some Indians who chanced to be in the neighborhood sent word

that the desecrator would be killed unless he desisted. Messages from

the wild tribes, coming in out of the waste, telling that they were

watching, ought to have been warning sufficient. But he was reckless

enough to disregard them, and continued his work. The trees were felled

and cut up, and the wood delivered. The contractor went to the post for

his pay, and as he took it, spoke in a jocose vein of the threat which

had come to naught.

Soon afterward, he set out for camp. Midway there, he heard the rush of

trampling hoofs, and looking up, his horrified gaze beheld a band of

painted savages sweeping down upon him from out the west. Five minutes

later, he lay upon the plain a mutilated corpse, and every pocket

rifled. The Indians had fulfilled their threats. The trees which to them

answered the same purpose that the marble monuments which we erect over

our dead do among us, had been broken up by a stranger, and sold. They

acted very much as white men would have done under similar

circumstances, except that the purloined greenbacks were probably

scattered on the ground, or fastened, for the sake of the pictures, on

wigwam walls, instead of being put out at interest.

Our little adventure gave rise to another evening of "vagabondizing."

Each one of our men, including the Mexicans, had some Indian tale of

thrilling interest to relate, in which he had been the hero. Jose, a

cross-eyed child of our sister Republic, spun the principal yarns of the

occasion. He had commenced outwitting Death while yet an infant, being

content to remain quiet under a baker's dozen of murdered relations,

that he might be rescued after the paternal hacienda had taken fire, by

somebody who survived.

After a careful analysis of several thousand remarkable stories which

were told to us first and last during our journey, I have deemed it wise

to repeat only those which we were able to corroborate afterward. Among

the latter is a narrative that was given us by the guide on this

occasion, having for its text a side remark to the effect that crazy

Ann, the wild huntress whom we met above Hays, was not the first lunatic

who had been seen wandering upon the plains. About the close of 1867, a

small body of Kiowas appeared in the vicinity of Wilson's Station, a few

miles above Ellsworth, being first discovered by a young man from

Salina, who was herding cattle there. They rushed suddenly upon him, and

he fled on his pony toward the station, a mile away. The chief's horse

alone gained on him, and the savage was just poising his spear to strike

him down, when the young man turned quickly in his saddle, and

discharged a pistol full at his pursuer's breast, killing him instantly.

Meanwhile, the half-dozen negro soldiers at the station had been

alarmed, and now ran out and commenced firing. The Indians fled in

dismay, without stopping to secure their dead chieftain, who was at once

scalped by the station men, and left where he fell.

Next morning the soldiers revisited the place, and found that the band

had returned in the night, and removed the corpse. The negroes followed

the trail for a mile or more, in order to discover the place of burial,

and shortly found the chief's body lying exposed on the bank of the

Smoky. It had apparently been abandoned immediately upon the discovery

that the scalp had been taken, from the belief, probably, which all

Indians entertain, that a warrior thus mutilated can not enter the Happy

Hunting Ground. Now for the apparition in question. As the soldiers

approached the spot, a white woman, in a wretched blanket, fled away. In

vain they called out to her that they were friends; she neither ceased

her running, nor gave them any answer. The men pursued, but the fugitive

eluded them among the trees, and disappeared. A few days after, she was

again seen, but once more succeeding in escaping.

It afterward transpired that, a year or so before, a white girl had been

stolen from Texas, and passed into possession of one of the tribes. She

lost her reason before long, and, like all the unfortunate creatures of

this class among the Indians, became an object of superstition at once.

One morning she was missed by her captors, and a few days later a

Mexican teamster reported having seen a strange woman, near his camp,

who fled when he approached her. His description left no doubt of her

identity with the missing captive. I have since conversed with some of

the soldiers, then stationed at Wilson, and they assured me that the

white girl was plainly visible to them on both occasions. As she was

never afterward seen in the vicinity of civilization, the poor creature

is believed to have perished from exposure. Possibly she was making her

way to the settlements, when frightened back by the negroes, who may

have resembled her late tormentors too closely to be recognized as

friends.

After one has been for months passing over a country stained every-where

by savage outrage, it is easy to understand how the man whose wife or

sister has met the terrible fate of an Indian captive, can spend his

life upon their trail, committing murder. For murder it is, when

revenge, not justice, prompts the blow, and the innocent must suffer

alike with the guilty.

While breakfast was preparing next morning, some fiend suggested to one

of our Mexican teamsters that the Americans might like a taste of

Mexico's standard dish, "chile," of which, the fellow said, he had a

good supply in his wagon-chest. Shamus was consulted, and assented at

once, seeming delighted with the prospects of astonishing our palates

with a new sensation. Know, O reader, of an inquiring mind, that chile

consists of red pepper, served as a boiling hot sauce, or stew. It is

believed to have been invented by the Evil One, and immediately adopted

in Mexico.

Shamus succeeded admirably in his design of concocting a sensation for

us. Our alderman was _ex-officio_ the epicure of the party, half of his

duties as a New York city father having been to study carefully all

known flavors. He always tasted new dishes, and on our behalf accepted

or rejected them. When, therefore, the savory stew came before us, he

experimented with a mouthful. Immediately thereafter a commotion arose

in camp, and Shamus fled before the righteous wrath of Sachem.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE BLOCK-HOUSE ON THE SOLOMON--HOW THE OLD MAN DIED--WACONDA

DA--LEGEND OF WA-BOG-AHA AND HEWGAW--SABBATH MORNING--SACHEM'S

POETICAL EPITAPH--AN ALARM--BATTLE BETWEEN AN EMIGRANT AND THE

INDIANS--WAS IT THE SYDNEYS?--TO THE RESCUE--AN ELK HUNT--ROCKY

MOUNTAIN SHEEP--NOVEL MODE OF HUNTING TURKEYS--IN CAMP ON THE

SOLOMON--A WARM WELCOME.

On the second day we reached the Solomon, and directed our course down

its valley. Shamus' face was as bright as if he was about to blow up an

English prison, which, for so pronounced a Fenian, indicated a happiness

of the very highest degree. It was evident that Irish Mary had hold of

the other end of our cook's heart-strings, and was twitching them

merrily. Cupid had indeed found us in the solitude, and, as Sachem

expressed it, was "whanging away" at two of our number, at least, most

remorselessly.

Two days' ride brought us to the forks of the river, where a block-house

had been built a year or two before, and in which we expected to find a

resident. Since its abandonment by the troops, it had been occupied by

an elderly man, known as Doctor Rose, who, solitary and alone, was

holding this frontier post, that, when civilization came, he might

possess it as a farm. We were disappointed. The barricade was deserted,

and every thing about it as silent as the grave. No curling smoke uprose

among the trees, and the everlasting hills and dusky prairies stretched

away on all sides in weird, wild desolation. We shook the door, and

called, but found no answer. It was fastened upon the inside, and as we

had no right to force it, we passed on, and encamped by the "Waconda

Da," or Great Spirit Salt Spring, a few miles below.

We did not suppose that the old man we had sought was so near us. Up on

a high ridge only a short distance off, his body was lying, another

victim of Indian murder. Savages had been raiding through the

settlements below, and thinking himself exposed, he had contrived to

fasten the door of the block-house from the outside, and attempted to

escape in the night. No one but the red murderers saw the old man die,

and how and when they met him will never be known; but his body was

found near the roadside, where the path wound over a high ridge, and

within sight of the Waconda, and there it was afterward laid in its

lonely sepulcher by his sorrowing family.

Down on a creek below, the savages, on the previous evening, had been

sweeping off the thin line of settlements, as a broom sweeps spiders'

houses from the wall. Perhaps some dark demon eye, glancing up from the

crimson trail, saw the old man, bending under the weight of years,

feebly trying to save the few remaining days left him, and turned

pitilessly aside to hurl him into that grave which, at best, could not

be far off. No struggle was visible where he fell, and it is probable

that they approached him with a treacherous "How, how?" and a

hand-shake, and, as he gave the grasp of friendship, struck him down,

and launched him into eternity.

Waconda Da, Great Spirit Salt Spring, is among the most remarkable

natural curiosities of the West, and is held in great reverence by the

native tribes. It presents the appearance of a large conical mass of

rock, about forty feet high, shaped like an inverted bowl, and smooth as

mason-work. In the center of its upper surface, is the spring, shallow

at the rim, and in the middle having a well-like opening, about twenty

feet in depth. Into this pool the Indians cast their offerings, ranging

from old blankets to stolen watches, thereby to appease the Great

Spirit. (From his location, Sachem thought the latter must be an old

salt.)

We fished with a hooked stick for some time, and were rewarded by

bringing up a ragged blanket and a shattered gunstock. All around the

rim of the opening were incrustations of salt, and the brackish water

trickled over, and ran in little rivulets down the huge sides. At the

base of the rock, a dead buffalo was fast in the mud, having died where

he mired, while licking the Great Spirit's brackish altar.

[Illustration: WACONDA DA--GREAT SPIRIT SALT SPRING.]

As no remarkable spot in Indian land should ever be brought before the

public without an accompanying legend, I shall present one, selected out

of several such, which has attached itself to this. To make tourists

fully appreciate a high bluff or picturesquely dangerous spot, it is

absolutely essential that some fond lovers should have jumped down

it, hand-in-hand, in sight of the cruel parents, who struggle up the

incline, only to be rewarded by the heart-rending _finale_. This, then,

is

THE LEGEND OF WACONDA.

Many moons ago--no orthodox Indian story ever commenced without this

expression--a red maiden, named Hewgaw, fell in love. (And I may here be

permitted to quote a theory of Alderman Sachem's, to the effect that

Eve's daughters generally fall into every thing, including hysterics,

mistakes, and the fashions.) Hewgaw was a chief's daughter, and

encouraged a savage to sue for her hand who, having scalped but a dozen

women and children, was only high private or "big soldier." Chief and

lover were quickly by the ears, and the fiat went forth that Wa-bog-aha

must bring four more scalps, before aspiring to the position of

son-in-law. This seemed as impossible as Jason's task of old. War had

existed for some time, and, as there was no chance for surprises,

scalp-gathering was a harvest of danger.

There seemed no alternative but to run for it, and so, gathering her

bundle, Hewgaw sallied out from the first and only story of the paternal

abode, as modern young ladies, in similar emergencies, do from the third

or fourth. Through the tangled masses of the forest, the red lovers

departed, and just at dawn were passing by the Waconda Spring, into

whose waters all good Indians throw an offering. Wa-bog-aha either

forgot or did not wish to do so. Instantly the spring commenced

bubbling wrathfully. So far, the Great Spirit had guided the lovers;

now, he frowned. An immense column of salt water shot out of Waconda

high into air, and its brackish spray dashed furiously into the faces of

Wa-bog-aha and Hewgaw, and drove them back.

The saltish torrent deluged the surrounding plains--putting every thing

into a pretty pickle, as may well be imagined. The ground was so soaked

that the salt marshes of Western Kansas still remain to tell of it, and,

a portion of the flood draining off, formed the famous "salt plains."

Along the Arkansas and in the Indian Territory, the incrustations are

yet found, covering thousands of acres. The Kansas River, for hours, was

as brackish as the ocean, its strangely seasoned waters pouring into the

Missouri, and from thence into the Mississippi. It was this, according

to tradition, which caused such a violent retching by the Father of

Waters, in 1811. The current flowed backward, and vessels were rocked

violently--phenomena then ascribed by the materialistic white man to an

earthquake.

Too late the luckless pair saw their mistake, and started for the summit

of Waconda, just as the angry father put in his very unwelcome

appearance. Had they avoided looking toward the spring, all, perchance,

might yet have been well. Without exception, the medicine men had

written it in their annals that no eye but their own must ever gaze back

at Waconda, after once passing it. Tradition explains that this was to

avoid semblance of regret for gifts there offered the Great Spirit.

Sachem, however, is of the opinion that in giving these orders the

medicine men had the gifts in their eye, and simply wished time to put

them in their pockets. Hewgaw could not resist the temptation to peep.

Immediately around the rock all was quiet, while without the narrow

circle the descending torrents were dashed fiercely by the winds. The

beasts of the plains, in countless numbers, came rushing in toward the

Waconda, their forms white with coatings of salt, and probably

representing the largest amount of corned meat ever gathered in one

place.

All the brute eyes--knightly elk, kingly bison, and currish wolves--were

turned toward the top where Wa-bog-aha and Hewgaw stood, casting their

valuables, as appeasing morsels, into the hissing spring. It refused to

be quieted. Suddenly, the lovers were nowhere visible, and the salt

storm ceased. Nothing could be found by the afflicted father, except a

tress of his daughter's hair--perhaps her chignon.

The old chief declared that, just as the end was approaching, the clouds

were full of beautiful colors, and the air glittered with diamonds. The

white man's science, however, coldly assumes that these appearances were

only the rainbows and their reflections, playing amidst the crystal salt

shower.

* * * * *

Sabbath morning dawned upon our camp, and according to our usual custom,

we lay by for the day. At ten o'clock, the Professor read the morning

service. It must have been a strange scene that we presented, while

uncouth teamsters and all--our family-pew the wide valley, with its

seats of stones, and logs--sat listening to the beautiful language that

told how the faith of which Christianity was born was cradled in a land

as primitive and desolate as that which we were traversing. There, the

wild Arab hordes hovered over the deserts; here, America's savage tribes

do the same over the plains.

Our priest stood near one of Nature's grandest altar pieces, "Waconda

Da." Reverence from the most irreverent is secured among such scenes and

solitudes. Away from his fellows, man's soul instinctively looks upward,

and yearns for some power mightier than himself to which to cling. The

brittle straw of Atheism snaps when called upon for support under these

circumstances, and the blasphemy which was bold and loud among the

haunts of men, here is hushed into silence, or even awed into

reverential fear.

The Professor improved the opportunity to deliver an excellent discourse

upon the wonderful evidences of God's power which geology is daily

revealing. His peroration was quite flowery, and in a strain very much

as follows:

"Science is yet in its infancy, and many things which seem dark to us

will be clear to our descendants. Future generations will doubtless

wonder at our boiler explosions, and our railroad accidents. Lightning

expresses will be used only for freight, while machines navigating the

air, at one hundred miles an hour, will carry the passengers. Steam,

electricity, and the magnetic needle have all been open to man's

appropriative genius ever since the world offered him a home, and yet

he has only just now comprehended them. The future will see instruments

boring thousands of feet into the earth in a day, and developing

measures and mysteries which the world is not now ripe for

understanding. Perhaps, the telescopes of another century may bring our

descendants face to face with the life of the heavenly bodies, and give

us glimpses of the inhabitants at their daily avocations. Who knows but

that the beings who people other worlds in the infinite ocean of space

around us, compared with which worlds our little planet is insignificant

indeed, are able, by the use of more powerful instruments than any with

which we are acquainted, to hold us in constant review? Our battles they

may look upon as we would the conflicts of ants, and they wonder,

perchance, why so quarrelsome a world is permitted to exist at all."

Next morning Sachem was up at daybreak, examining the spot where Hewgaw

and Wa-bog-aha met their fate, and underwent their iridescent

annihilation. His offering to their memory we found after breakfast,

tacked up in a prominent position beside the spring. The inscription,

evidently intended as a sort of epitaph, was written on the cover of a

cracker-box, and struck me as so peculiar that I was at the pains of

transcribing it among our notes. I give it to the reader for the

purpose, principally, of showing the unconquerable antipathies of an

alderman.

IN MEMORIAM.

Lot's wife, you remember, looked back,

(What woman could ever refrain?)

And instantly stood in her track

A pillar of salt on the plain.

If all were thus cursed for the fault,

Who peep when forbidden to look,

The feminine pillars of salt

Could never be written in book.

Hewgaw was an Indian belle

Which no one could ring--she was fickle;

Some scores of her lovers there fell

(Where she did at last) in a pickle.

Thus salt is the only thing known

Entirely certain of keeping

Flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone,

Out of the habit of peeping.

Unless the tradition has lied,

Our maiden may claim, with good reason,

That she is a well-preserved bride,

And certainly bride of a season.

Wa-bog-aha big was a brave--

The Great Spirit salted him down:

Braves seldom get corned in the grave,

They 're oftener corned in the town.

My rhyming, you find, is saline,

Quite brackish its toning and end;

The moral--far better to pine

Than wed and get "salted," my friend.

Soon after sunrise we took our way down the river, intending to reach

the Sydney farm on the following day, and there spend the necessary time

in preparing our specimens for immediate shipment when we should arrive

at Solomon City. The Professor made desperate efforts to appear entirely

wrapped up in science, and his devotion to geology was something

wonderful. Hitherto he had been inclined to urge us forward, but now he

made a show of holding us back. Did he do so with a knowledge that our

necessities for food and forage would be sufficient spur, and was he

simply shielding his weak side from Sachem's attacks?

We had proceeded but a few miles on our journey, when the guide rode

back, and reported fresh pony tracks across the road ahead of us. This

was an unquestionable Indian sign, but as the trail seemed to be leading

north, we took no precaution; our route was over a high divide, where

ambushing was impossible.

Approaching Limestone Creek, the road wound down the face of a

precipitous bluff, into the valley below. We had just commenced the

descent, when the now familiar cry of "Injuns!" came back from the men

in front, and following closely on the cry we heard the echoing report

of firearms. We looked in the direction of the sound, and saw close to

the trees an emigrant wagon, while beyond it, but at fully one hundred

yards' distance, four or five Indians were riding back and forth in

semi-circles, and firing pistols. The emigrant stood beside his oxen,

with rifle in readiness, but apparently reserving his fire.

"That man knows his biz!" exclaimed our guide, as he urged the teams

forward, that we might afford rescue. "Injuns never bump up agin a

loaded gun."

A gleam of calico was visible in the wagon, and another rifle barrel,

held by female hands, seemed peering out in front. The general aspect of

the assailed outfit reminded us strongly of the Sydney family, and

suspicion was strengthened by a very unscientific yell from the

Professor, as he started off at break-neck speed down the bluff for a

rescue, with no other weapon whatever in his hand than a small hammer he

had just been using for breaking stones. Mr. Colon seemed equally

demented, following close upon Paleozoic's heels with a bug-net. Shamus,

at the moment, happened to be astride his donkey, and giving an Irish

war-whoop which reached even to the scene of combat, straightway charged

over the limestone ledges in a cloud of white dust. Our appearance upon

the scene was a surprise to Lo. The Indians stood not upon the order of

their going, but "lit out on the double-quick," as our guide expressed

it, and were soon out of sight.

We found that the emigrants were named Burns, the family comprising the

parents and their two children. The man stated that he had no fear of

the savages. He had been twice across the plains, and made it a rule

never to throw a shot away. "If they can draw your fire," said he, "the

fellows will charge. But they don't want to look into a loaded gun."

Mrs. Burns had come to her husband's rescue with an expedient worthy the

wife of a frontiersman. Having no gun, she pointed from under the

canvass the handle of a broom. This, being woman's favorite weapon, was

handled so skillfully that the savages imagined it another rifle. In our

log-book she was chronicled at once as fully the equal of that

revolutionary hero, who one evening made prisoner of a British officer,

by crooking an American sausage into the semblance of a pistol, and

presenting it at the Englishman's breast.

There were two of our party who did not rejoice as they should have

done, after rendering such timely aid to the Burns family. How romantic

had the rescued party only proved to be the one which was at first

suspected!

Where this little scene occurred, there are homesteads now, which will

soon develop into thrifty farms. The blessing of a railroad can not be

long deferred. A year, a month, even a week sometimes, makes wonderful

changes in Buffalo Land, when the tide of immigration is rolling forward

upon it. Before the present year is ended, the beautiful valley of

Limestone Creek will be teeming with civilized life, and the savage red

man, there is good reason to believe, has departed from it forever.

After bidding the Burns family good-bye, we traveled without further

adventure until near noon, when the guide rode back, and directed our

attention to some elk, which he pointed out, some distance ahead. The

bodies of the herd were hidden by a ridge, but above its brown line we

could plainly see their great antlers, looking like the branches of

trees, moving slowly along. There was but one method of getting near the

game, and that was immediately adopted. Up the side of the sloping

ridge we carefully crawled, and, reaching the summit, peeped over. Half

a dozen big antlered fellows, and as many does, were feeding along the

slope below. Only one of them, a splendid male, was within shooting

distance at all, and even for it the range was long. The guide and Muggs

fired together, breaking the poor creature's shoulder.

What a startled stare the noble animals flashed back at the crack of the

rifles, and how quickly they disappeared. Their trot was perfectly

grand--great, firm strokes which seemed to fairly fling the bodies

onward. We had hardly time to realize having fired, when their tails

bade us distant adieu. It is said that no horse can keep up with the

trot of the elk. If charged upon suddenly, however, from close quarters,

he is frightened into an awkward gallop, and may then be overtaken

easily.

Our wounded game looked formidable, and we approached cautiously. He

made several efforts to run, but each time fell forward, in plunging

slides, on his nose and side, rubbing the hair from the latter, and

daubing the ground with blood from his nostrils. Muggs felt free to

confess that even the pampered stags of England, when perilously roused

from their well-kept glens, by over-fed hunters in killing coats and

boots, never presented such a picture of wild beauty and agony, colored

just the least bit with danger. At this "kill" we lost our black hound.

Tempted to incaution by the sight of the noble elk standing wounded and

at bay, or else excited by its blood, the dog sprang forward. A chance

blow of the massive horns knocked him over, and in an instant more the

beast had stamped him to death.

We finished the elk by a united volley, and added him to our trophies.

The horns, resting upon their tips, gave space for one of our Mexicans,

five feet two in stature, to pass beneath them erect. Elk hairs are

remarkably elastic. Single ones obtained from this specimen stretched by

trial with the fingers, and detached from the skin so easily that the

latter seemed worthless.

During the day we found and secured the remains of two saurians--one

about eight and the other ten feet in length, and also the tooth of a

fossil horse, quite a number of curious bubble-shaped pieces of iron

pyrites, and some fine petrifactions, in the way of butternuts and

fragments of trees. The soft, white limestone, mentioned more than once

before in this record of our expedition, appeared along our paths in

fine outcrops, and contained very perfect fossil shells.

Abe, our guide, told us that a year or two previous, during a winter of

unusual severity, he had found a flock of Rocky Mountain sheep feeding

near the Solomon. This was the only instance which came to our knowledge

of that animal having been seen upon the plains.

We had an amusing experience, before night, with turkeys, hunting them

in novel style. The birds were wild from recent pursuit, and, the

instant they saw us, would leave the narrow fringe of timber, and run

off into the ravines. Then would commence a ludicrous chase, each rider

plying spurs, and pursuing. There went Sachem, on his long-legged

purchase, the beast staggering and stumbling through ravines; and Semi

also, upon Cynocephalus, whose abbreviated tail was hoisted straight in

air, while at the other extremity his nose stretched well out and took

in air under asthmatic protests. Rearward was the Mexican donkey,

arguing the point with Dobeen whether or not to enter the race. Ahead of

all went the wild turkeys, running like ostriches. The bird is a heavy

one, and its short flights and runs, therefore, though rapid, can not be

long continued. Seeing the pursuit gaining, it would turn to the woods

again for protection. Other riders would there head it off, and soon,

completely exhausted and only able to stagger along, it was easily

taken. In this manner, we obtained over twenty turkeys while passing

along the river.

[Illustration: MORE OF OUR SPECIMENS--PHOTOGRAPHED BY J. LEE KNIGHT,

TOPEKA, KANS.

PRAIRIE CHICKENS.

HEAD OF AN ELK. WILD TURKEY.

BEAVER.]

That evening we reached the little settlement on the Solomon, which was

the Canaan of all our wanderings to certain members of our party, and

went into camp among the Sydneys and their neighbors. Our welcome was a

warm one, and it took Shamus but a few moments to find our friend's

kitchen, where he at once installed himself in the dual capacity of

lover and assistant cook, discharging the duties of each position to the

entire satisfaction of all concerned. Our supper with the Sydney family

seemed like civilization again, notwithstanding that we were still on

the uttermost bounds of civilized manners and customs. The Professor,

sitting next to Miss Flora, was the very picture of happiness, and "all

went merry as a marriage bell." Even Sachem ceased to sulk before the

meal was ended.

At dusk, as we were assuring ourselves by personal inspection that the

camp was in proper order, a familiar form came stalking toward us in the

gathering gloom. "Tenacious Gripe!" cried the Professor; and so it was.

Our friend's ribs had been repaired, and he was now on a mission along

the Solomon river, holding railroad meetings in the different counties.

The progressive westerner, when he has nothing else to do, is in the

habit of starting out on a tour for the purpose of inducing the dear

people to vote county bonds for a new railroad, and such a westerner was

Gripe.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OUR LAST NIGHT TOGETHER--THE REMARKABLE SHED-TAIL DOG--HE RESCUES

HIS MISTRESS, AND BREAKS UP A MEETING--A SKETCH OF TERRITORIAL

TIMES BY GRIPE--MONTGOMERY'S EXPEDITION FOR THE RESCUE OF JOHN

BROWN'S COMPANIONS--SCALPED, AND CARVING HIS OWN EPITAPH--AN IRISH

JACOB--"SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST"--SACHEM'S POETICAL LETTER--POPPING

THE QUESTION ON THE RUN--THE PROFESSOR'S LETTER.

Supper over, we made an engagement with our hospitable friends for their

presence at a sort of "state dinner" we proposed giving the next day,

and then returned to our own camp. A number of the settlers soon came

strolling in, and among them one bringing a most remarkable dog, of the

"shed-tail" variety. The animal was well known to fame in that section,

for having attacked some Indians who had taken his mistress captive and

were endeavoring to place her upon one of their ponies, and so delaying

them that the neighbors were able to arrive and give rescue. It was

claimed that thirty shots were fired at him without effect, which, if

true, proved that either those Indians were exceedingly bad marksmen, or

that the small fraction of caudal appendage which the beast possessed

acted as a protective talisman.

We had often seen dogs without tails, but previous to this had always

supposed that a depraved human taste, not nature, was at the root of it.

Tail-wagging we had considered as much the born prerogative of a dog as

a laugh is that of man. It is true some men do not laugh, but the child

did. A dog's tail embodies his laughing faculty, or rather one might

call it a canine thermometer. It rises and falls with his feelings, in

moments of depression going down to zero between his legs, and again

rising when the canine temperature becomes more even.

"That thar dorg, stranger, is of the shed-tail variety," said its owner,

when we solicited information. "Whole litter had nothin' but stumps.

Killed most on 'em off, 'cause, havin' nothin' to wag, visitin' people

couldn't tell whether they was goin' to bite, or be pleased. Some time

ago, a travelin' school-teacher giv' him a plaguy Latin name, but we

call him Shed, for short. He knows, just as well as you and I, that he

's in the wrong, latterly, and as soon as you look at him, or touch

where the tail ought ter be, he hides and howls. He 's sensitive as a

human."

Saying this, our new acquaintance leaned over the dog, which was lying

asleep, and gave the animal what he called a "latterly touch." Although

it was but the gentle contact of a finger tip, the poor creature jumped

up, uttered a dismal howl, and fled off among the wagons.

"That dorg," continued the owner, "would be one of the best critters

out, if it wasn't for his short cut. He 'll fight Injuns, or wild cats,

and take any amount of blows on his head, if they 'll only avoid his

misfortin.'"

We remarked that he seemed to have been shot in the side, some time.

"Yes, got a whole charge of quail shot slapped inter him. You see the

way it was, wer this. Most every section has one or two scraggy,

rattle-brained fellers, allers loungin' round, takin' free drinks, and

starvin' ther families. Whar we come from was one of this sort, never of

no account to no one. We had a temperance meetin' one day, and this Hib,

as they called him, wer opposed to it. He was afraid they 'd shut up Old

Bung's whisky shed. Well, we was all a gathered, listenin' to the

serpent and its poisoned sting, and that sort o' thing, and had about

concluded to go for Old Bung, when that contrairy, ornery Hib broke us

up. He goes and gets a fresh coon skin, and sneaks all round the

school-house, draggin' it arter him, and makin' a sort o' scented

circle. Then he goes and gets Shed Tail there, who was powerful on

coons, and sets him on that thar track. Shed give just one sniff, and

opened right out. The way he shied round that school-house wer a sin. In

five minutes, all the dogs of the village were at his heels, and goin'

round that circle like the spokes in a wheel.

"It was just a round ring of the loudest yelling you ever heard. Every

dog thought the one just ahead of him had the coon. All the meetin'

folks come a pourin' out, with sticks and chairs, and what with beatin'

and coaxin' they got all off the trail but old Shed. Half the people

went to chasin' that dorg, while the balance held onto the others. But

Shed just stuck to that coon track, like all possessed, dodgin' atween

our legs, or sheerin' off, and catchin' ther trail agin just beyond. He

finally upset Old Squire Bundy's wife, and the Squire got mad, and

slapped some No. 7 into his ribs."

The shed-tail's owner, waxing more and more eloquent with his subject,

had just commenced the narrative of another Indian battle in which his

favorite had figured, when we became interested in a wordy political

combat between Tenacious Gripe and a genuine specimen of the

"reconstructed," the first and only one of that genus that we saw in

Kansas. His clothes had the famous butternut dye, and his shirt bosom

was mapped into numerous creeks and rivers by the brown stains of

tobacco overflows. The dispute waxed warm, and grew more and more

prolific of eloquence. At length, the reconstructed beat a retreat, and

our orator was left in triumphant possession of the field.

Drawing fresh inspiration from his success, Gripe devoted another hour

to an account of the early struggles in Kansas against these "mean

whites." He gave us many vivid descriptions of the time when men died

that their children might live. Among other relations was that of the

expedition under Montgomery, to rescue the two companions of old John

Brown from the prison at Charlestown, Virginia, a short time after the

stern hero himself had there been hung.

The dozen of brave Kansas men interested in the enterprise reached

Harrisburg, with their rifles taken apart and packed in a chest, and

sent scouts into Virginia and Maryland. It was the middle of winter, and

deep snow covered the ground. They intended, when passing among the

mountains, to bear the character of a hunting party. Every member of

that little band was willing to push on to Charlestown, notwithstanding

the whole State of Virginia was on the alert, and pickets were thrown

out as far even as Hagerstown, Maryland. The plan was, by a bold dash to

capture the jail, and then, with the rescued men, make rapidly for the

seaboard. Although the expedition failed, it gave the world a glimpse of

that heroic western spirit which was not only willing to do battle upon

its own soil, but content to turn back and meet Death half-way when

comrades were in danger.

Gripe did not accompany the expedition. Yet he grew so eloquent over the

deep snow that stretched drearily before the little band, the gloomy

mountains which frowned down defiance, and the people, far more

inhospitable than either, who stood behind the natural barriers, filled

to fanaticism with suspicion, fear, and hate, that we were sorry he had

not been of the party. A man of such congressional qualifications as

were his, might have been able to steal even the prisoners.

On other matters of Kansas history, Gripe could speak from personal

experience. He had twice entered the territory during the period when

the Free State and pro-slavery forces were doing battle for it. In one

instance, the journey had been overland through Missouri, and in the

other, up the Missouri River. On the first occasion, he had suffered

numberless indignities at the hands of border ruffians, and would have

been killed, had there been any thing in the least degree stronger than

suspicion for them to act upon. On the other trip, the steamboat was

stopped at Lexington, and a pro-slavery mob boarded the vessel, and

searched for arms. The whole fabric of Kansas material which Gripe wove

for us that evening was figured all over with battles, and murders, and

tar-and-feather diversions. Had we been writing a history of the State,

we might have accumulated a fair share of the material then and there.

Another subject this evening discussed around our camp-fire was the

future of the vast plains which we had been traversing. Two or three of

the settlers were ranchemen, who had lived in this region for many

years. They were very enthusiastic about the section of their adoption,

and affirmed stoutly that within fifteen years the whole tract would be

under cultivation.

I can answer for our whole party that, beyond a doubt, the climate is

healthy and the soil rich. For the first one hundred miles, after

reaching the eastern boundary of the plains, springs and pure streams

abound. Further west, the water supply is not so plentiful. On only one

occasion, however, did we suffer any inconvenience from this, and that

was upon the very headwaters of the Saline. Going into camp late, coffee

was hastily prepared, and the quality of the water not noticed. It

proved to be quite salty, and as we drank liberally of the coffee, and

were unable afterward to find a spring, our sufferings before morning

amounted to positive torture. Each one of the party found that his lungs

were benefited by our sojourn on the plains. I believe that a

consumptive could find decidedly more relief in Buffalo Land than among

the mountains further west.

During the evening, we added considerably to our already very full notes

concerning the wild tribes of the western plains. So many are the "true

tales of the border" which one can hear in a few months of such

journeyings as ours, that the recital of even a tithe of the number

would become tiresome. The red-bearded owner of "Shed-tail" added to our

store, by relating an adventure which he claimed had occurred to himself

and Buffalo Bill, when they were teamsters together in an overland

train. It was to the effect that while riding ahead of the wagons, to

find a crossing over the Sandy, they discovered the skeleton of a man

lying at the foot of a cottonwood tree. As they dismounted for the

purpose of finding some means, if possible, of identifying the remains,

their attention was caught by letters cut in the bark. These they

deciphered sufficiently to see that it had been an attempt by some weak

hand to carve a name. A broken knife, lying near the bones, told plainly

enough who the worker at the epitaph had been, and other signs revealed

to the frontiersmen the whole death history. The man had been assailed

by savages, scalped, and left as dead. The work of the knife showed that

he must have recovered sufficiently to crawl to the tree, and there

make a faint effort to leave some record of his name and fate. The

straggling gashes indicated that he had continued the task even while

death was blinding his eyes. A few more drops of blood, and perhaps the

mystery of years, now shrouding the history of some family hearth-stone,

would have been cleared away.

We had no opportunity of verifying this story of red beard's, but as no

occasion existed for telling a lie, and the neighbors of the narrator

there present seemed much interested in the account, we accepted it as

truth. It was apparently no attempt to impose upon the strangers. But I

would here state, as a specimen feature of the frontier experience of

all travelers, that whenever, at any of our camps, surrounding ranchemen

or hunters discovered any member of our party taking notes, there were

straightway spun out the toughest yarns which ever hung a tale and

throttled truth.

Of one fact our journey thoroughly convinced us. Lo's forte has no

connection with the fort of the pale-faces. An unguarded hunter, or a

defenseless emigrant wagon, or unarmed railroad laborer, gratifies

sufficiently his most warlike ambition. The savages of the plains, in

their attacks upon the whites, have been like bees, stinging whenever

opportunity offers, and immediately disappearing in space. Their excuses

for the murders they commit have been as various as their moods. At one

time it is a broken treaty, at another the killing of their buffalo, and

trespassing upon the hunting-grounds, and again it is some other

grievance. It may be some gratification for them to know that it is

estimated that, until within the last three years, a white man's scalp

atoned for each buffalo killed by his race.

In our various wars with the Indians, it is worthy of remark the bison

have been like supply posts at convenient distances, to the hostile

bands. Traveling without any supplies whatever, and therefore rapidly, a

few moments suffice to kill a buffalo near the camping spot, and roast

his flesh over the chips. The pony, meanwhile, makes a hearty meal on

the grass. On the other hand, our troops, in pursuit of these bands,

have had to encumber themselves with baggage wagons, or pack-mules,

bearing food and forage.

Among our notes, I find recorded many incidents illustrative of the

aptitude which the savage mind possesses for dissimulation. For

instance, in our council at Hays City, White Wolf could apparently

understand only our sign language; yet when the interpreter advised the

Professor, in good English, not to accept the little Mexican _burro_,

unless content to return its weight in something much more valuable than

jackass meat, the chief could not refrain from smiling. As Indians are

not given to facial revelations, the colloquy must have struck him as

very apropos and very amusing. We concluded then and there, that it was

unsafe to talk Indian sign with the savages for effect, and meanwhile

express our real sentiments to each other in English; and upon this

opinion we habitually acted thereafter.

This was our last night together as a party. The Professor had signified

his intention of remaining a few days longer upon the Solomon, for the

purpose of studying the surrounding country. Shamus had asked a

discharge, in order to engage as farm hand for Mr. Sydney--an Irish

Jacob taking to agriculture as a means of obtaining his Rachel. We

received numerous invitations to divide our party for the night among

the settlers, and, glad to enjoy again the luxury of a roof, Sachem and

I gratefully accepted the hospitabilities of a neighboring log-cabin

among the trees.

The next day was busily occupied in separating from our loads such

things as the Professor and Shamus required for their further sojourn in

the Solomon valley. The morning following, we bade them both good-bye,

and have seen neither leader or servant since. With but one mishap, the

remainder of our party reached safely the more familiar haunts of

civilization. Doctor Pythagoras was the victim of our exceptional

misfortune. While attempting to mount his transformed prize-fighter, the

metamorphosed bully struck out from the shoulder, and the doctor was

floored. We found it necessary to carry him upon a rude stretcher to

Solomon City, and provide him with a section on a sleeping car for

transit to the East. As we shook his hand at parting, and bade him a

last good-bye, he exclaimed, "My young friends, I can not die yet. I

shall recover and outlive you all. I believe in the theory of the

'survival of the fittest.'"

Ever since our return, the tide of emigration, pouring onward from the

Atlantic, has lapped further and further out upon the surface of the

plains; and still, as truly now as when good old Bishop Berkeley first

wrote the line, "the Star of Empire westward takes its way."

* * * * *

While I was preparing these notes for the press, I received the

following characteristic letter from Sachem, dated at his haunt in New

York. It was at first a puzzle, but I found the key in a note inclosed

by him, which he had lately received from the Professor.

SACHEM'S LETTER.

To crack a head and break a heart,

Are known as Paddy's forte;

In kitchen, jail, or low-back cart--

No matter where--he 'll court.

To don a rig, and dance a jig,

Attend a wake or wedding,

He 'll sell his own or neighbor's pig

And only rag of bedding.

He lives a happy, careless life,

Hand to mouth, and heart in hand;

Ready for either love or strife,

Building castles on the sand.

With peck of trouble ever full,

Good measure, running over,

He deals in stock--the Irish bull,

And with it, lives in clover.

Love's labor is the only taste

That Paddy's mind inherits:

He thinks, where maidens run to waste,

The harem has its merits.

And so Dobeen, upon his course,

Love's gallop quick began;

The gal up on the other horse,

He courted, as they ran.

The bows around the maid were more

Than suited to her mind;

Cupid and Shamus rode before,

The savage rode behind.

They each pursued the maiden coy,

Two wooed her _a la_ bow;

The arrow tips of one were joy,

The other's tips were woe.

'T is said that Shamus won the race,

And saved his hair and bacon:

If Mary loved his wooing pace,

His heart may stop its achin'.

And this was the Professor's letter, which had evidently set the

aldermanic machine to grinding doggerel again:

"ON THE SOLOMON, }

LINDSEY, OTTAWA COUNTY, KANSAS. }

... "I have run down here after my mail. Am progressing finely with

my studies. Shamus had an adventure yesterday. Mary and he rode

over on horseback to a neighbor's, a mile away, and on the return

were pursued by an Indian. Hard riding brought them in safely. Mary

tells her mistress that, during the terrors of the chase, Shamus

would not refrain from courting. He lashed her horse, and spurred

his, and popped the question, alternately.

"I shall probably remain here a month or so longer, as I am much

interested in the _Flora_ of the Solomon Valley."

The italicized word in the last sentence is underscored, and its initial

letter bears evidence of having been maliciously transformed into a

capital by Sachem.

THE END.

APPENDIX.

PRELIMINARY TO THE APPENDIX.

The officials of the new States and Territories are constantly

overwhelmed with letters of inquiry from all parts of our own country

and the Canadas, and even from Europe. Some of the writers wish

particulars concerning the opportunities that exist for obtaining homes;

others seek information as to the best points for hunting; while what to

bring with them, in the way of household goods, and farming implements,

or guns, dogs, etc., is the common question of nearly all.

While engaged in preparing "Buffalo Land" for the press, I published in

a newspaper at Topeka a brief summary of the information then at my

command upon the subjects above named. The result was the receipt of a

large number of letters, asking for all sorts of details, many of which

I found it impossible to answer through the mail. This fact, added to

the requests of various public officers, whom I take pleasure in thus

obliging, has induced me to attach an appendix to the present volume,

containing a condensed statement of such matters (not elsewhere

described in this work) as will assist parties westward bound, whether

emigrants, sportsmen, or tourists.

The Appendix which follows is divided into three chapters. The first of

these embodies information of especial interest to the immense army of

home-seekers who, from every quarter, are turning their eyes eagerly and

hopefully toward the free and boundless West. The second chapter is

designed for the use of the sportsman, and the third furnishes very

valuable and instructive details concerning the topography, resources,

climate, etc., of the plains, and, more particularly, a description of

the larger streams, with their contiguous valleys, which drain the vast

area included within the limits of Buffalo Land.

W. E. W.

APPENDIX.

CHAPTER FIRST.

FURTHER INFORMATION FOR THE HOME-SEEKER.

APPENDIX.

CONTENTS OF CHAPTER FIRST.

PAGE

COME TO THE GREAT WEST, 435

SHOULD THERE NOT BE COMPULSORY EMIGRATION, 436

"GET A GOOD READY," 437

HOMESTEAD LAWS AND REGULATIONS, 438

THE STATE OF KANSAS, 447

THE COST OF A FARM, 448

A FEW MORE PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS, 449

APPENDIX.

CHAPTER FIRST.

_FURTHER INFORMATION FOR THE HOME-SEEKER._

COME TO THE GREAT WEST!

The Western States and Territories afford unexampled inducements to the

surplus energy and capital of the East and Europe; and the field which

they spread out so invitingly to the emigrant's choice is as wide as it

is magnificent. Hundreds of millions of acres of rich land--embracing

bottom and prairie, timber and running water--are open for settlement.

Counties are to be populated, and towns built, all over the new States

and Territories. Each of these latter is an empire in itself. Great

Britain could be set down within the borders of any one of them, and yet

leave room for some of the German principalities. The records of the

Agricultural Bureau at Washington show that, wherever the new soil has

been cultivated, both the yield per acre and the quality of the crops

produced are better than in the older States. The balance of power is

moving westward, and the capital of the nation, it can scarcely be

doubted, must eventually come also.

There is no reason why people should starve in the great cities of this

broad and heaven-favored land of ours. Business men, so often besieged

and worried with applications for positions in their stores and

counting-rooms, might with advantage tack up a copy of the Homestead Law

by their desk, and keep a further supply on hand for distribution. Every

few months some poet sings of the ill-paid seamstress in the crowded

town, or some hideous murder brings to light the heroine of the

garret-stitched shirt. Yet, meanwhile, at Denver City, house-girls have

been getting from six to ten dollars per week, and thousands could find

comfortable homes throughout Kansas, Nebraska, and Colorado, with

remunerative wages. Abroad, men toil, and women work in the fields, and

in one year pay out from the scanty earnings which they wring from a

stingy soil more than enough to purchase one hundred and sixty acres of

good land in the great and growing West.

SHOULD THERE NOT BE COMPULSORY EMIGRATION?

Except in the case of the very decrepit, or totally disabled, there can

be no excuse for begging, in a country which offers every pauper a

quarter-section of as rich land as the sun shines upon. I suppose the

millennium will commence when laws compel the cities to drive from them

the idle and vicious, and make them tillers of the soil in the wilds.

Instead of brooding in the dark alleys, and breeding vice to be flung

out at regular intervals upon the civilized thoroughfares, these

germinators of disease and crime would be dragged forth from their

purlieus and hiding-places, and disinfected in the pure atmosphere of

the large prairies and grand forests. Granting that it might be a heavy

burden upon their shoulders at the outset, the present generation of

reformers would have the satisfaction of knowing that the sores were

cleansed, and that moral and physical disease was not being propagated

to suffocate their children; and even although some of the present

multitude of evil-doers might not be reclaimed, most of their children

certainly would be. It is more profitable to raise farmers than

convicts. Instead of building jails to hold men in life-long mildew, our

artisans might be building steamers and cars, to carry their products to

the seaboard.

"GET A GOOD READY."

Of the immense and almost boundless tracts of Western land that invite

the emigrant's choice, the larger part can be homesteaded and

pre-empted, and the remainder purchased on favorable terms from the

different railroads. The competition among the latter for immigration

has induced low prices and superior facilities for examination.

Where a number of families are coming together, the best way, as a rule,

is to select commissioners from the number, to go in advance, and spy

out the land, which can be done at comparatively trifling expense. On

giving satisfactory proof of their mission, such representatives are

nearly always able to secure low rates of fare and freight. In this way,

two or three reliable agents can select a district in which a colony may

settle, and make all the necessary arrangements for its transportation,

and each family save a number of dollars, which will give back compound

interest in the new home.

"Get a good ready" before starting, and have your route plainly mapped

out; otherwise, you will buy experience at the sacrifice of many a

useful dollar. And pray that your flight be not in the winter. Come at

such season as will enable you to provide at least some shelter and

supplies before the inclement months come on.

Furniture and provisions can be purchased at very reasonable rates at

the West, and no necessity exists, therefore, for bringing one or two

car loads of broken chairs, and partially filled flour barrels. Good

stock will repay transportation, but common breeds are abundant and

cheap on the ground. Texas yearlings can be purchased for about six

dollars per head in Kansas.

HOMESTEAD LAWS AND REGULATIONS.

The following is an epitome, by a former Register of a United States

Land Office, of such laws and regulations as pertain to the securing of

Government land:

The Pre-emption Act of September 4, 1841, provides, that "every person,

being the head of the family, or widow, or single man over the age of

twenty-one years, and being a citizen of the United States, or having

filed a declaration of intention to become a citizen, as required by the

naturalization laws," is authorized to enter at the Land Office one

hundred and sixty acres of unappropriated Government land by complying

with the requirements of said act.

It has been decided that an unmarried or single woman over the age of

twenty-one years, not the head of the family, but able to meet all the

requirements of the pre-emption law, has the right to claim its

benefits.

Where the tract is "offered," the party must file his declaratory

statements within thirty days from the date of his settlement, and

within one year from the date of said settlement, must appear before

the Register and Receiver, and make proof of his actual residence and

cultivation of the tract, and pay for the same with cash or Military

Land Warrants. When the tract has been surveyed but not offered at

public sale, the claimant must file within three months from the date of

settlement, and make proof and payment before the day designated in the

President's Proclamation offering the land at public sale.