CAPTAIN SAUNDERS' FIGHT
Glancing around as Bill galloped away, I plainly saw, in the bushes at
the edge of the timber back of our burnt haystack, two Indian ponies
tied to some bushes, with saddles and bridles on. They were the mounts
of the two Kiowas who had entertained me throughout the night and one
of whom Bill had just killed.
The other fellow, who set fire to the haystack, I supposed had made
good his escape.
And, as I thought this, I naturally turned to look at the spot from
where he had fired the burning arrow.
"I'm sure I hit him when I shot at him out of the tent," I said to
myself. "I wonder if I hurt him much? I'll just step down there and see
if there is any blood on the ground."
As I approached the spot I saw something like the end of a dirty
blanket showing from behind the jutting bank where he had been
concealed, and, fearing that the Indian, wounded, might be lying there
waiting to shoot me, I cocked my rifle and crept cautiously around
to where I could see behind the projecting bank; and there lay the
Indian, sure enough, but without sign of life. On a nearer approach I
found he was dead and cold--probably having bled to death soon after I
had shot him.
On turning the body over to get a good look at his face, I was
somewhat astonished to recognize the features of old Broken Nose, the
medicine-man from To hausen's camp.
Leaving the body where it was, I hurried back to the tent to climb up
on the derrick with the field-glass, anxious to see what I could of the
fight between the Kiowas and soldiers out on the prairie. There was not
much to see.
Saunders' party had been delayed too long in making the detour to get
in the rear of the enemy. Lieutenant Wilson had made his attack at
daylight, according to orders, and the Indians, abandoning their siege
of the wagon, were retreating to the nearest point of the Walnut Creek
timber.
From my stand I could see Saunders' party trying to cut off the fleeing
Indians from the timber, but they seemed to succeed in intercepting
only a few of the hindmost ones. Saunders, Wild Bill, and party went on
in pursuit of the fleeing Kiowas until they passed out of sight behind
a point of timber.
Turning my glass toward the wagon, I could see a party of soldiers
gathered around it. Soon the wagon started moving toward our camp,
accompanied by the mounted men. The soldiers must have recaptured the
mules and harness.
As the wagon party came down the grade from the upland at a brisk trot,
it occurred to me that they would all be as hungry as coyotes, and,
rushing down into the dugout, I began doing what I could to prepare
something for them to eat.
Lieutenant Wilson came galloping on ahead to tell me the results of the
fight at his end of the line, not knowing that I had witnessed nearly
all of it through the glass. Jack and Tom, he said, were both wounded,
but not seriously. They had killed three Kiowas and two ponies before
the soldiers arrived, and the latter had killed five more Indians and
captured several ponies in the attack at daylight.
I told the lieutenant what arrangement I had planned for feeding his
men--which he said would be satisfactory--and also that we had grain
enough to give his horses a feed but no hay.
As the wagon came up I rushed to it to congratulate my comrades on
their escape and to ascertain the extent of their injuries.
"Only a few scratches," said Jack indifferently, in spite of his pale
looks, as he climbed out of the wagon with his left arm in a sling. "I
got an arrow through me arm, but Tom is worse hurted--a bullet through
his thigh but no bones broke. Have you anything to eat?"
I helped Tom out and supported him on one side as he hobbled down to
the dugout. Meantime, the lieutenant and his troopers were taking care
of their horses, after which some of them unharnessed the mules for us
while others started a fire and began to cook their breakfast.
As I entered the dugout with Tom, I noticed my blankets lying on the
floor, where I had dropped them on my hurried entry the night before,
and after helping the old man to a seat I gathered up the bedding to
make him a pallet. In doing this the bullet that old Broken Nose had
fired into the bundle dropped to the floor.
"There, Tom," I said as I picked it up and handed it to him, "is a last
token from your old friend, Broken Nose."
"What? Has the old rascal been here? Why didn't you kill him?" he asked
eagerly.
"I did. He's lying down the ravine yonder, a little way. He and another
had me corralled here all night, but I got Broken Nose and Wild Bill
got the other."
While I cooked breakfast I told them all about my little affair of the
past night.
"While the coffee's a-boiling, lieutenant," said Jack after I had
finished, "come on and we'll go and take a look at the dead Injuns. I
want to make sure that they're good and dead."
As they started out I called to them:
"While you're at it, go over to the brush yonder, behind the burnt
haystack, and bring in the two Indians' ponies. I haven't had time to
gather them in yet."
In a little while they returned, bringing the horses and tying them to
the wagon.
"You and Bill sure did a good job on them two," said Jack as he and
Wilson re-entered the cabin. "I'm only sorry I didn't have the pleasure
of doing the business for old Broken Nose myself, for I was owing him
that."
We had just finished eating our breakfast when one of the soldiers
called out:
"Here comes Wild Bill riding like the devil was after him! Wonder
what's up?"
Looking in the direction that Saunders's party had gone, we saw the
scout coming back alone, riding rapidly.
When he reached us he said that Captain Saunders and two of his men
were wounded, one horse killed and several wounded. One soldier was
thought to be fatally hurt; and Bill had come for our team and wagon to
haul them to our camp, as the two soldiers were unable to sit on their
horses.
We were soon busy hitching up the mules while Bill gave us the
particulars of their fight. It appeared that in chasing the fleeing
Kiowas, Bill, accompanied by several soldiers, had become separated
from Saunders and the main party, and the scout, not being at hand to
guide the captain, the latter in his eager pursuit of the enemy had
made the mistake of closely following the Indians into the timber,
which blunder they had anticipated and had ambushed the soldiers.
"I thought Cap. knew better than that," said Bill, "but it was partly
my fault. I knew he'd never fought Injuns before, and I ought to have
stayed with him and stopped him short of the brush."
In spite of his crippled condition, old Tom came hobbling out of the
dugout, with his little medicine-chest and a bundle of rags under his
arm for bandages, and insisted on going with the team to do what he
could for the wounded.
Jack's wounded arm prevented him from handling the team, so we left
him in camp and I went along to drive the mules. Lieutenant Wilson had
received orders to remain at our camp with his detachment until further
orders.
After being helped into the wagon, Tom's foresight prompted him to call
to me:
"Peck, throw in some bedding and get some grub--sugar, coffee,
hardtack, and meat--to take along, and a camp kettle and frying-pan and
a few tin cups."
I remembered the bale of buffalo robes I had cut open in the tent
the night before for my own comfort and, calling one of the soldiers
to help me, brought them out and tumbled them into the wagon, with
the desired rations and utensils. I then took the lines and whip and
started at a trot, guided by Wild Bill riding alongside.
As we trotted along I asked the scout:
"How many Kiowas did you and Saunders' party kill?"
"The returns are not all in yet," replied Bill, "but I think we got
seven or eight. I got three of them for my share. That was all I could
catch before they got into the timber; and, of course, when they got to
the brush I had to give up the chase and let them go."
"It's most too good a thing to hope that old Satank'll be found among
the killed," said Tom.
"No, I'm afraid we'll not find him among them," replied Bill
regretfully, "for I reckon his luck has saved him again, unless he may
be among them that were killed out near the wagon. If I can get time
I'll ride around over the prairie and take a good look at all of them,
and the old rascal may be found among them; but I'll be surprised if he
is, for he has wonderful luck in getting out of tight places."
"Don't you think, Bill," I asked, "that this was rather a badly managed
expedition of old Satank's, considering that he has the reputation of
being such a successful raider?"
"Yes, he's made a bad mess of it this time, sure, and a few more such
failures'll cause his followers to choose another leader. I think he's
losing his grip on the war-path, and we'll soon see Satanta or Big
Tree coming to the front as leader of the hostile Kiowas. When what's
left of these fellows get back to their big village and count noses,
there'll be such a howl against old Satank that I don't believe he'll
ever be able to get much of a following again. You mark what I tell
you, Satanta or Big Tree is going to be the war chief of the Kiowas
hereafter."
We found Captain Saunders and his men about two miles above our
camp, dismounted in the edge of the timber near the old Indian camp,
anxiously awaiting our arrival. Saunders himself had his head roughly
bandaged with an old handkerchief because of a glancing arrow wound
above his right ear, which had bled profusely over his face and clothes
but was not serious. His horse had received a bullet in the shoulder
which lamed him badly.
Supposing from Saunders' appearance that he was badly hurt, Tom was
going to him to dress his wounds when the captain said:
"Never mind me, Mr. Vance; I'm not hurt much; but if you can help poor
Dolan there, lying behind that tree, do what you can for him. He is
badly hurt--spitting blood and growing weaker--" talking as he led the
way to where the wounded man lay. "An arrow went through his breast and
lodged in the neck of a horse a couple of rods behind him. I had no
idea they could shoot those arrows so viciously."
On examining Dolan's wound, Tom's experience told him that the man was
past any help that he could render, for the arrow had gone through the
lung, and an inward hemorrhage seemed to be slowly sapping his life.
Dressing the wound and giving the man a stimulant, Tom and the captain
consulted together for a moment and then informed the patient that,
though his case was quite serious, it was not altogether hopeless and
that his only chance was to be hurried back to Fort Larned, where the
post surgeon could give him proper attention.
The other man who had been reported wounded had a broken arm. Tom
splinted and bandaged it, and the two were soon made comparatively
comfortable among the buffalo robes in the wagon. Several others had
received slight wounds but were "able for duty."
While this had been going on, Saunders' men had gotten out the grub and
utensils, fried some meat and made some coffee and now called us up
to eat. This was the first intimation to Saunders that there was such
a luxury as food in the outfit, and as he sniffed the pleasant aroma
of the boiling coffee he turned to Tom and me and thanked us for our
thoughtfulness.
"Captain," said Tom after we had eaten, "it's time that team was on the
way to Fort Larned. What are your plans for getting these men there? If
I can help you in any way, I'm at your service."
"Thanks," replied Saunders. "My plan is to send a half dozen men along
with the wagon as an escort and some responsible man in charge. I will
then move down to your camp and, taking Wilson and party from there,
move on down to To hausen's village and try to find out whether his
people have been harboring these hostiles; and then to-morrow we'll all
move into the fort. I will send a requisition in by the team to bring
out some grain for the horses to-morrow and any other supplies that we
may need. It will be best that we stay and see you all safely into Fort
Larned." Then turning to Wild Bill, he asked: "Do you think, Bill, that
six men will be a sufficient escort to go with the wagon and wounded
men--do you think there is any danger of their meeting hostile Kiowas?"
"None but dead ones," replied Bill. "The team can go through all right
now."
"Well," said Saunders, "I had thought of asking Mr. Vance or Mr. Peck
to take charge of the wounded men and see them through."
"Tom'll be the man for that," suggested Bill, "for the wounded men may
need some help on the way."
"Well, that's settled," said Tom impatiently, as he started for the
wagon without waiting for the captain's decision. "Captain, please
detail the escort and start them on after me; they can soon overtake
us." And, climbing into the wagon, he took up the whip and lines and
started.
The captain quickly mounted the escort and hurried them after the
wagon; and then he himself mounted the horse of one of the wounded men
and we set out for our camp, I riding one of the Kiowa ponies captured
in the fight.
The horses were a rather scrawny-looking lot, as the Indian ponies
generally are at this season of the year--the result of starvation
through the winter--but, no doubt, there was in them good mettle that
would show itself as soon as the grass came; for the Indian warrior
always selects his fleetest and toughest horse to ride when going on
the war-path.
Arrived at the camp, Captain Saunders had his men unsaddle and water
their horses and picket them out for an hour's rest before starting
down to To hausen's village.
Some of Lieutenant Wilson's men had killed several antelope and had
cooked up a great lot of the meat, anticipating that Saunders' men
would come in hungry, as they did. Saunders, Wilson, Bill, and I
adjourned to the dugout to eat the meal Jack had prepared for us.
While we were eating I told Captain Saunders something of my experience
of the previous night and exhibited the bullet that old Broken Nose had
fired into the bundle of blankets in my arms.