A NIGHT IN THE KIOWA CAMP
We reached the dugout just before noon, and after unsaddling, watering,
and feeding our horses and partaking of a good dinner that Jack had
prepared we saddled up again. I now rode the gray mustang, as Tom had
suggested, and on one of our mules packed my bedding for the use of
Captain Saunders and myself at the Indian camp. We struck out down the
creek for the Kiowa camp, I leading the mule and the captain bringing
up the rear. This kind of campaigning was a revelation to Captain
Saunders and seemed to interest him greatly.
At the Indian camp Tom was anxiously awaiting me, and seemed surprised
to see me accompanied by the officer, whom I introduced, explaining the
occasion of his visit.
Under the impulse of his long and strict military training, Tom came
to "attention" and saluted and seemed somewhat surprised at the
captain's proffered hand. In the regular service hand-shaking between
an officer and a soldier or ex-soldier would be considered a breach
of army etiquette. Quickly comprehending the situation, Tom grasped
the extended hand and thereafter appeared to feel on terms of perfect
equality with the officer.
"I can't allow you to see old To hausen," Tom explained, "he's too sick
to see company; an' I can't devote much time to your entertainment
myself, captain, but I'll tell the Injuns to try an' make your visit
agreeable; an' you an' Peck'll have to get along the best you can."
Tom turned to an old Indian, who, he said, was next in rank to To
hausen, and explained to him in Mexican who we were and the object of
our visit. The old warrior then in a loud voice made an announcement to
the camp in the Kiowa tongue, after which he repeated to Tom what he
had told his people.
"This old fellow," explained Tom to the captain, "is named Lobo.
He told the Indians that I said: 'These two white men are our good
friends. One of them is a captain of soldiers from the fort. They heard
that our chief was very sick and they have come all the way from the
fort to bring some more good medicine for To hausen. They are good men
an', Kiowas, you must be good to 'em. Our camp an' all that we have is
at their service. Make them welcome, Kiowas.'
"Now," continued Tom, "as Lobo says, 'the camp is yours.' He has given
orders to his women to unsaddle your horses an' unpack your mule, an'
some of the youngsters will drive your animals out an' put 'em in
the herd. He has also ordered the women to clear out one half of his
lodge for your use, an' your saddles an' beddin' will be carried in an'
placed there, where you are to sleep. You are at liberty to go where
you please about the camp, enter any lodge you choose, an' you'll find
'em all friendly and agreeable; an' you an' everything you have will
be perfectly safe so long as you are their guest. Now, you'll have to
excuse me, for I must go to my patient."
"By the way, how is the old chief?" asked the captain.
"Pretty feeble. His age is against him, for he must be up in the
seventies. I'm getting the fever pretty well under control, and if he
gets no backset I think I can pull him through. I have my bed close by
him an' I try to keep the lodge at as even a temperature as possible;
but I have to do most everything myself, for these Injuns can't be made
to savvy how to take care of the sick. Now, I must go."
After seeing our animals sent out to the herd and our saddles and
bedding taken into Lobo's lodge, we went inside, spread our bed, and
then took a stroll about camp. Everything here--the Indians, their
dress and habits--was new, strange, and deeply interesting to Captain
Saunders, who had never before seen a wild Indian.
Noticing To hausen's dilapidated old ambulance standing near his lodge,
I said:
"Captain, do you see that old government ambulance?"
"Yes," he replied, "and I have been wondering at it and was going to
ask you if many of the Indians have such vehicles?"
"No. I don't know of another Indian on the plains who sports an
ambulance or any other wheeled vehicle to ride in. I must tell you how
he came by this one. In the spring of '59 the Kiowas were becoming
restless, and disregarding the warnings and advice of the old chief,
who was always friendly to the whites, they were inclined to follow the
lead of Satank, who is always unfriendly. They were threatening to go
on the war-path. Our command of four companies of First Cavalry, under
Major John Sedgwick, was sent out on the plains from Fort Riley with
orders to range along the Arkansas River to try to keep the Indians
in subjection. The Pike's Peak gold excitement was at its height
then, and an outbreak of the Indians would be a serious affair. Old
To hausen tried hard to keep the Kiowas peaceable, but succeeded in
holding only this small band of about a hundred warriors, the rest of
the tribe following Satank. To hausen often visited our camps and our
officers often gave him and his adherents presents. Our quartermaster,
Lieutenant James B. McIntyre, had this old ambulance on hand, and,
as it was about played out, he got it condemned by a board and was
thinking of burning it to get rid of the old trap, when it occurred
to him to make a present of it to To hausen if he would accept it.
The old fellow was very much pleased to think of riding about in such
a rig as our commanding officer sometimes used. Lieutenant McIntyre
had his blacksmith put the old rattletrap in serviceable shape; and
then put harness on a pair of the old chiefs mustangs and had them
broken to work by some of the soldiers and turned the outfit over to To
hausen. But neither he nor any of his men could learn to use the lines
and, after a few efforts they dispensed with the lines altogether,
and, putting a boy on each bronco of the team, they have since
navigated the ambulance in that shape. Indian-like, they generally
travel at a gallop, whether the ground is smooth or rough, and often
break something, but they tie it up with rawhide to hold the parts
together till they can get to Fort Larned or Fort Lyon, and then the
quartermasters have their men patch it up again for the old man."
As evening approached we returned to the home of Lobo, where a good
fire burning in the centre of the lodge made it quite comfortable
except for the smoke that nearly blinded us; but by lying down on our
blankets we found we could avoid this discomfort.
Tom dropped in for a few minutes to see how we were getting along and
to tell us that under the stimulating influence of the whiskey I had
brought the old chief was showing a decided improvement.
Two women had for some time been busy cooking a meat stew in a kettle
that hung over the fire. After a time I brought out and gave them some
coffee, sugar, and hardtack that I had brought in my saddle pocket to
add to the meal. After lifting the big kettle off the fire, the women,
with a great horn spoon, ladled out a dishful of the stew to each of
the guests first, and then to Lobo.
We ate hungrily. Lobo was the last one to "throw up the sponge" and
announce his perfect satisfaction by a prolonged Indian grunt, and then
as he leaned back against a pile of bedding, he added: "Muy wano!"
Before eating I had handed a plug of tobacco to Lobo, who had whittled
off enough to fill a great red-stone pipe and then returned the plug to
me. I tried to induce him to keep the plug, but he declined. As Tom had
intimated would be the case, a number of men dropped in after supper
to call on Lobo and his white visitors, and the big red pipe was then
brought out, lit with a coal of fire, and put on its travels, each
taking a puff and passing it to the next.
The Indians evidently appreciated the free tobacco I was furnishing,
for the pipe was soon smoked out, refilled, and emptied again and
again, till all were fully sated. After this some talk was indulged in,
and then the visitors went out one by one, till only the captain and I
and Lobo's family remained. Saunders and I soon after removed our coats
and boots and turned in.
During the evening the woman had carried in several armfuls of wood and
piled it convenient to the fire in the centre of the lodge, and, the
weather being quite cold, she got up several times during the night to
replenish the fire.
Saunders and I were both awake by daylight, but, as our host and his
family and the dogs still seemed soundly sleeping, we kept our bed for
a time to avoid disturbing them. Finally, old Lobo crawled out and,
wrapping his buffalo robe around him, went outside the lodge. In a few
minutes we heard him, in a loud voice, haranguing the camp, and a few
minutes later the camp was all astir.
After breakfast, on telling Lobo that we wished to return to our camp,
two of his boys drove the herd into camp and roped our animals, which
were quickly saddled and packed.
I took the remains of the plug of tobacco and the packages of sugar,
coffee, and hardtack out of our saddle pockets, carried them into
Lobo's lodge, and laid them down.
Captain Saunders, feeling disposed to reward the two boys for taking
care of our animals, offered each a silver half dollar. Their young
eyes brightened at sight of the money, for they knew it would buy them
something nice at the trader's store, but a hesitating glance at
Lobo seemed to decide them to refuse the proffered gifts, and with a
pleasant, "No quiero, señor" ("Don't want it, sir"), which their looks
belied, they turned away.
"Give them to me, captain," I said, "and I'll place them where they
won't reject the money." I carried the two silver pieces into the lodge
and put them with the other things. No objection was made to my leaving
these presents where they could be found, but Indian hospitality
forbade them openly to accept gifts from a guest.
At dinner Jack proposed that Captain Saunders and he should go out that
afternoon and kill some buffalo and put out some poison. The captain
was eager to go, for he was quite without experience in this form of
sport. After Saunders was armed, equipped, and mounted he and Jack rode
away and I turned to and attended to the dinner dishes.
It was near sunset when they got back to camp, reporting that they had
killed and poisoned some buffalo, and Captain Saunders had killed also
an antelope, the carcass of which he had tied on behind his saddle and
brought in.
"L'ave the captain alone for the makin's of a plainsman," exclaimed
Jack as he dismounted and began unsaddling. "He'll need but little more
instruction from any of us. He catches on quick. He'll soon be like an
old hand at the business. An' that horse of his is all right, too.
Ain't a bit afeard of a buffalo an' goes at 'em like he was used to it."
"Possibly the captain has had more experience of this kind," I
suggested inquiringly, "than we have supposed."
"Not a bit of it," replied Saunders. "This is actually my first glimpse
of frontier life; but I have always been interested in such matters and
have read everything I could find on the subject and have talked to old
plainsmen and in that way have acquired some ideas of such things. I
wish I could stay with you a week or two and hunt buffalo and antelope,
for it is noble sport; but this isn't what Uncle Sam is paying me for,
and I must go back to Fort Larned to-morrow. Still, I consider this
time well spent, for the experience I am getting out here is certainly
valuable to one who expects to do service on the plains."
"We shall be sorry to lose your company, captain," I replied; "but,
if you are going in to-morrow, why not take your antelope along as a
trophy of the trip? The weight will not be much, and we can fit it
behind the cantle of your saddle and tie it on so it will ride nicely."
"Yes," added Jack, "but that will have to be done to-night, for it'll
freeze hard before morning, and then you can't fit it on. I'll fix it
now."
He placed Saunders's saddle upon some sacks of grain, bent the antelope
carcass to fit snugly behind the cantle, tying the feet down to the
cinch rings, and left it to freeze in that position.
After supper Jack played the fiddle awhile, and we sang some songs;
but Saunders seemed more interested in drawing us out to tell of our
soldier experiences on the frontier and kept us yarn spinning till late
bedtime. In the morning, after breakfast, he struck the trail for Fort
Larned.