CAPTURED BY INDIANS.
Cheyenne was at length left behind, and, with the object of securing
companionship in my journey across Wyoming and Utah, I made the
acquaintance of two herders--rough men and plain of speech, but
apparently reliable and trustworthy. During the few days spent with
these pioneers of the Plains, I learned but little of their past lives,
yet I was thoroughly satisfied from the first that they would prove
invaluable guides in my otherwise lonely ride over the Rockies.
My new companions, Israel Gordon and a Mexican with unpronounceable
name, were on their way to Salt Lake City with a few mustangs and Indian
ponies, and we at once arranged to journey together as far as our
respective routes carried us.
On our first day out from Cheyenne we were much favored, having a clear
sky and a southwest wind, which tempered pleasantly the usual chilliness
of the season. A ride of thirty-three miles on an up-hill road brought
us to Sherman, the highest point touched in the Rocky Mountains by the
Union Pacific Railway. Here we halted for the night, had supper, and
slept under our blankets in the open air.
After a light breakfast the following morning, November first, we
continued our journey along the line of the Union Pacific. Still favored
with fine weather and our mustangs being in excellent condition, good
progress was noted in the march westward. I had now become quite well
acquainted with my new-made friends, and, as our ponies shook the dust
of many miles from their feet, we talked of the strange region through
which we were passing, and of the routes which led to objective points
beyond the mountains. During these conversations I learned that Gordon
was born in Vermont, and lived in that State until the close of the
Civil War, when he emigrated to Nebraska, and later to Wyoming, where
for several years he led a wandering life among the hunters and cow-boys
of the Far West. My other companion told me that he began life in New
Mexico, and at the age of twenty-one drifted into Colorado, from which
Territory he migrated to Cheyenne, in 1867. Both men were robust, strong
of limb, and thoroughly accustomed to the habits and practices of the
mixed population of the Plains.
As the reader may have observed, I have undertaken from the outset in
this chapter to give some idea of the life and habits of my
fellow-travelers, for, as will be discovered on another page, they were
destined to share with me the most trying ordeal of my journey from
Ocean to Ocean.
[Illustration: CAPTURED BY INDIANS.]
On reaching a point about a mile east of Skull Rocks, on the Laramie
Plains, we were surprised to find ourselves confronted by a band of
Indians--thirteen in number. This caused no uneasiness at first, as
Indians are often seen on these Plains. We soon discovered, however,
that they were on no friendly errand, and, upon a nearer approach, the
herders pronounced them a raiding party of Arrapahoes. They were
evidently in pursuit of plunder, were decked in war-paint, and as soon
as we came in range of their rifles sounded the war-whoop and bore down
upon us, in a manner that betokened anything but a peaceful visit, and
left no doubt in our minds as to the motive of their attack.
The Arrapahoes were at this time the friends and allies of the Sioux,
and the chief objects of their raid were doubtless revenge for white men
and horses for their warriors, who were then rendezvoused in the Black
Hills.
Fully convinced that we were in the presence of an enemy determined to
kill or capture our little party, no attempt was made to parley. The
ponies were hurriedly drawn together so as to form a barrier against the
assaults of the Indians, who were now in short range and gradually
closing in upon us. As they galloped around us, the Indians formed a
circle and kept up an incessant fire, to which we replied over the backs
of our ponies, but with little effect, as from their mode of attack they
were a constantly shifting target and difficult to reach, even with the
best weapons in use. My own equipment consisted of a carbine, such as I
had used in the cavalry service during the Civil War, and a 22-calibre
Colt's revolver. Gordon and the Mexican were each provided with a
Winchester rifle and navy revolver, while nearly all the Arrapahoes were
armed with Winchesters and revolvers.
But few moments were required to settle the unequal contest. Four of our
horses fell in rapid succession, including my own mustang; in the
meantime we brought down one Indian and three ponies. The Indian was
instantly killed by a shot from the Mexican.
On seeing one of their number fall, the Arrapahoes rushed upon us with
deafening yells, and with such force as to render resistance useless.
Our arms were taken from us, our horses quickly seized, and, in much
less time than it takes to tell it, we were mounted and riding at a
rapid pace to the northward, under a guard of six well-armed Indians,
who were carefully instructed as to their duties by their chief, Lone
Wolf. The remainder of the band were more or less occupied in scouring
the country for horses and other plunder, wanted for their encampment in
the Black Hills.
[Illustration: DECIDING THE FATE OF THE CAPTIVES.]
We rode at a trot or gallop until about ten o'clock at night, when a
halt was ordered by the chief, and all dismounted; a fire was built and
some antelope meat, secured during the day, was partially roasted and
distributed among the Indians and their captives. We were for some time
squatted around a big fire--our captors engaged in earnest conversation.
Gordon understood enough of their language to interpret that the
discussion related to their prisoners--that the friends of the Indian
killed at Skull Rocks, and who were in the majority, were in favor of
putting all of their prisoners to death for having shot one of their
number. Lone Wolf, however, interposed, saying it would be enough to
take the life of him who had killed their brother. Supper over, four
Arrapahoes approached us and seized the herder who had fired the fatal
shot. They led him to a stake which had been driven in the ground
about fifty yards from the bivouac; to this stake he was firmly bound by
lariat ropes. All of the Indians then began dancing around and torturing
their victim in the most brutal manner conceivable. Arrow-heads were
heated in the fire and held against his naked person. Three or four of
the Indians made a target of their captive, and amused themselves by
hurling at him their sharp-pointed knives, which, penetrating his body,
remained imbedded in the flesh, until he was nearly exhausted with pain
and loss of blood. These tortures were continued until our unfortunate
comrade lost consciousness, when one of the Arrapahoes, more humane than
his associates, advanced and ended his sufferings by a pistol-shot in
the head.
In the meantime Gordon and I were seated on the ground, bound together,
and unable to offer any relief to our suffering companion, who bore his
tortures with a greater degree of composure and fortitude than I ever
witnessed on the battle-field or within the walls of the dungeon, and,
while no stately column or monumental pile marks his resting-place, he
deserves to sleep beside the heroic martyrs of the border who have
risked life and suffered privation and hardship for the advancement of a
higher civilization.
Having disposed of the Mexican, several of the Indians now approached
Gordon and myself, and, separating us, seized me roughly by the arms,
and, dragging me to the stake, bound me to it and commenced a series of
dances, accompanied by much gesticulation and taunting, which they
doubtless intended as a sort of introduction to tortures which were to
follow. Lone Wolf, who had from the first seemed friendly, but who was
at this time some distance from the camp-fire, now rushed to my rescue
and dispersed our inhuman captors, who were loath to desist from their
devilish work. A few minutes later a brother of the Indian killed at
Skull Rocks removed the scalp of the Mexican, and, after he had fastened
it to his belt, all began dancing around the fire, singing and shouting
until they were thoroughly exhausted, when they squatted upon the
ground, apparently regretting that they had not been permitted to put
more trophies in their scalp locks.
An object of interest to us at this time was the horses which were
tethered by long lariat ropes to stakes which had been driven in the
ground at a convenient distance from the encampment. Could we but elude
the guard and mount the mustangs we were riding when captured, our
chances for escape would be all we could wish. As usual, we were bound
together, with two stalwart Indians in charge. The other Indians
disposed themselves around the fire and slept. I and my companion slept
very little, but pretended to do so. We were always on the alert and
seeking opportunities to escape. About two o'clock in the morning our
guards were relieved by two others, and all was again quiet around their
camp-fire. At the first streak of dawn, the Indians were up and had a
scant breakfast of dried buffalo meat and venison, which had been
secured from the ranches of frontiersmen during their raid of the
previous day; of this they gave us barely enough to satisfy hunger.
As soon as all were ready for the trail, Gordon and I were each given a
pony, which we mounted under the close scrutiny of the guard, and the
entire party started northward at a brisk trot. No real attempt to
escape had thus far been made and the watch became somewhat relaxed, the
attention of the Indians being devoted chiefly to foraging. When
opportunity seemed favorable for the capture of horses or cattle, a halt
was called by the leader, and three or four of the party were detailed
for this purpose. These foragers were expected to keep themselves and
their prisoners supplied with meat and such other rations as could be
found in the straggling cabins of frontiersmen, but, as their raids
often proved fruitless, we were, at best, scantily provided for, and
many times entirely without food.
[Illustration: ESCAPE FROM THE ARRAPAHOES.]
We were now skirting the Black Hills, and I had discovered by this time
that our captors were making their way to the Arrapahoe rendezvous,
about one hundred miles from Deadwood.
At the end of the second day the routine of the previous night was
repeated: the Indians built a fire, cooked and ate some antelope meat,
which had been brought in by the foragers during the afternoon, and then
lay down around the fire for the night, their two prisoners being again
bound together, with a guard on each side. Notwithstanding these
precautions, however, on the part of the Arrapahoes, I was quietly on
the alert, and, although feigning sleep, was wide awake and prepared to
take advantage of any circumstance which might prove favorable to an
escape. I passed the fingers of my right hand over the cord that bound
the left to my fellow-prisoner and felt sure that with patience and
persistence the knot could be untied and our liberty regained.
While the guards dozed and slept, as on the previous night, our eyes
steadily sought the arms and ponies. We were quite certain that any
attempt to escape, if detected and defeated, would result in immediate
torture and death; but were, nevertheless, firmly determined to make the
effort, let the consequences be what they might, for by this time we
were thoroughly convinced that, if taken to their encampment in the
Black Hills, the Indians would be most likely to detain us as hostages
for a long period, and in the end possibly, should the inclination seize
them, subject us to brutalities that only savages can devise. With such
reflections and but indifferent opportunity to put our plans for escape
to the test, we passed our second night in captivity.
At dawn of the third day, November second, after the usual breakfast of
antelope, Lone Wolf called his band together and, mounting, continued
his march northward, halting occasionally for rest and refreshment.
About eight in the evening all dismounted and bivouacked for the night.
The weather was now extremely cold in this high altitude, and was keenly
felt by the Arrapahoes and their white captives.
Shivering with cold and without blankets, Gordon and I, still bound
together at the wrists, lay down to sleep with our captors around a
smouldering fire. The Indians sought sleep--their prisoners thought only
of possibilities for escape.
With the experience I had gained in Southern prisons during the Civil
War and the herder's thorough knowledge of the Plains, I felt confident
that we could make our escape if we were constantly on the alert for the
opportune moment. During the early hours of the night we had each fixed
our eyes upon a pony. These animals were grazing near the camp-fire,
with their saddles on, ready for immediate use if required. Under the
pretence of being asleep we began snoring loudly, and the guards,
feeling at ease concerning their prisoners, slept at intervals, although
restless until midnight, when we found them sleeping soundly.
I now worked at the cord which bound me to my white companion and
ascertained that I could untie it. While making the attempt one of the
Indians moved in his sleep and I ceased my efforts for the moment, and
all was quiet again. The opportunity arrived at length, the knot was
loosened, and the noose slipped over our hands, which gave us liberty.
We quickly took possession of two revolvers, but the guards, being
awakened by our movements, were about getting on their feet, when we
dealt them stunning blows with the butt of the revolvers, forced them to
the ground, and gained needed time for our escape. Each rushed for a
pony, leaped into the saddle, and, before Lone Wolf and his band had
shaken off their slumber, we were urging our mustangs to their utmost
speed southward.
But a moment elapsed before all of the Indians were mounted and in
pursuit of their escaping captives; but this had the effect only of
spurring us to still greater speed. Finding several of our pursuers in
short range I turned in my saddle and sent a bullet among them; another
and another followed. One Indian fell from his horse, but the darkness
prevented our seeing if the other shots had told. The Arrapahoes
returned the fire, but luckily without any worse result than increasing
the pace of our flying ponies.
Away we tore over hill-top and through canyon until but three or four
Indians could be seen in pursuit, when Gordon, saying it would be much
better for both to take separate routes, at once dashed off through a
ravine to the right. One Indian considerably in advance of his
companions was at this time closing upon me, but I sent a bullet into
his horse, which put a temporary stop to pursuit and would have enabled
me to distance my pursuers in the saddle had not my own horse fallen an
instant later through a well-directed shot from the Indian I had just
dismounted.
I now dropped into a gulch, remaining hidden until morning. With the
coming light I found the coast clear, and, emerging from my place of
concealment, set out in a southwesterly direction, which brought me to a
cattle ranche late in the afternoon, grateful, indeed, for liberty
regained and for the freedom which enabled me to continue my journey
toward the shores of the Pacific. After listening to my story the
generous ranchmen whom I here met supplied me with food and a fresh
mustang. Again facing westward I pursued my course over the Rockies,
striking the Old Government Trail near Fort Steele at the end of three
days.